Mrsblogalot

"Really, you have no idea what goes on", a mother loftily informed me one afternoon while waiting for our kids to come home on the bus.

"There has always been a silent war between Stay at Homes and Working Mothers in school" she continued to educate.

Huh?

"And it is uglier than you can imagine" she continued

Umm, I believe I just asked her how she was doing.

"Oh and the other day, during my son's swimming lesson at the YMCA, I was discussing some of my child's challenges with one of the instructors when another woman spat out 'Sheesh, you new mothers think you know everything don't you?"

New Mothers vs. what? Old Mothers? Stay at Homes vs. Working Mothers?

Well .....WTF vs. WTH   While you're at it.

"I think that you are watching a little too much C.S.I. girlfriend" I remarked jokingly.

Where the hell was that bus?

"Maybe you need to get out more" I added with a nervous

laugh while I concentrated intently on rocking back and forth from heel to toe.

"You see??!! That is exactly what I'm talking about! You wouldn't understand

because you are not in it like I am".   Was that spittle on my face?

I noticed that she was starting to get a bit agitated.

Hey, easy mama. "I know what goes on in the PTO. I know what mother's are

saying" she announced.

Yeah, but did you know about all of the side effects for the medication you are

obviously taking?

"They can't just come in and make decisions once in a while or when it is convenient for them. I make it my business to be at every meeting no matter what. If you aren't going to be there on a regular basis, part-time participation should not be allowed"

I thought she might soon be in desperate need of a paper bag.

Okay, I did not sign up for PTO Alien mothers waiting at the bus stop.

Should I even attempt to get into how I work and still manage to keep in touch with what is going on at the school or should I check her for weapons first?

She was obviously waiting for me to speak. Was it my turn already?

"Uh, yeah, sounds crazy. I never knew" were the pearls of wisdom that weakly sputtered out of the side of my mouth.

Alien mother just rolled her eyes and declared cryptically "Just wait. You'll see when your son gets older".

More things to worry about when my son gets older? Um, no thank you.

Was this a twilight zone episode that never was? Are there truly such rivalries out there that need further scrutiny or total annihilation or was this just my lucky day to have such a special encounter with the Queen of the Mother Underworld?

You know what? Maybe I don?t want to know.

Shut up you know I do!!!? Tell me! Tell me! I have to know!

Mother Underworld: Fact or Fiction?

mrsblogalot

You just can't keep a good blog down

I personally don't like the term Newbie. In fact, I hate it.

We are all new at some point; new to a town, new to a club, new to a website, new to an experience. But why would anyone voluntarily thrust this Newbie label upon themselves by way of an apologetic introduction? I don't remember anyone ever introducing themselves to me as a Newbie mother or a Newbie wife. I have heard people introduce themselves as an alcoholic...but that is another story (not mine).

At what point do you shed the Newbie label? Is there a ceremony? Is there a graduation term when you actually feel that you are no longer a Newbie? Is there a Becoming of Dobie Celebration that I'm not aware of? Should I be shopping for an outfit?

The thing is, you probably are already a Dobie but might be afraid to come out as one. You apologize by Newbieizing yourself so that should you (heaven forbid) not be perfect in any way, you will be comforted by the collective sigh of understanding for all of your unknowing flaws. Ahh...she's a Newbie that's o.k.

Why even label yourself in the first place?

I guess that my hatred for the "N" word might have come from a story I saw once on the news a long time ago. It was about a senior citizen who had always dreamed of becoming a dancer. She said she just wanted to be able to say "I am a Dancer" before she died. Never once did she take a dance lesson or pursue this dream throughout her long life. But then, in her seventies, she went to her local dance studio and signed up for basic ballroom dancing lessons.

The local interest camera man followed her around the studio for a few days and during that time, he captured an exhilarated and lovely woman twirling and dancing enthusiastically to her own pace. When the camera man zoomed in for the final shot, her flushed and happy face broke into a wide grin and stated "My name is Jana and I am a dancer". I almost cried (Well I cry at game shows but still).

She was a dancer! She didn't say she was a Newbie dancer. She didn't even make the statement dripping in apology sauce. Nor did she mention the novice word once. She was a dancer. Because she was dancing! Because she was Doing!

From that moment on, I have always felt that if you Do....you are! If you talk about what you want to do....well then, I guess that you are just talking about what you want to do. That's not even being a Newbie. That's being a Wannabe.

Usually, most people join groups because something draws them to it. Could be a dormant passion or possibly an unknown passion that triggers something deep inside of them. You know it's real when you are absolutely burning on fire to get whatever it is started. When you won't or can't stop until you are finally in motion or working towards its completion. Wherever you join, you are there for a reason. And you know it!  Or you wouldn't have joined in the first place. Right? Don't hide behind that Newbie title!

Don't be afraid to shoot yourself out of the cannon at full force! Ready. Aim. Fire!

Introduce yourself. Not a label.

Now who wants to start the Happy Dobie Dance?

mrsblogalot

Create Your Own

Guest Blogger: Jill Livingston

Visit Jill's Blog

Imagining Life Without Children

This morning, capturing the pure essence of why I have children, my little four year old woke me up in bed by whispering in my ear, 'mommy, do you see how beautiful it is outside'? When people ask me if I love having children my answer is always conflicted. Honestly, I love having children. It is my vocation, my life, it is what I signed up for. There would be no magic for me without my children showing me the world through their eyes and helping me to understand the value of nature to a higher degree. They also bring back memories of how I viewed the world when I was little. They brought back a memory from when I must have been four of a Christmas tree that actually grew it's own candy.

A house without children would be, would "be quiet"! I would die in a quiet house. Granted I could play the music I wanted to play without a nine year old DJ changing the songs. I could watch movies, listen to NPR and read without answering any questions. I would barely have to clean the house and my beloved objects wouldn't "got broke all by itself". There would be no Koala Bumpers stuck to our new, beautiful wood floors and no boogers or bottoms to wipe. I would not walk into a bathroom and find a dump the size of a large colon curled around the toilet. I could feel sexy and strut around the house in lingerie and lounge in erotic poses on all white furniture when the mood presented itself.

I would have no processed food in the house, I would sleep, and best of all I would share more intimate moments with my husband! I would mention more but I know that my little nieces read every blog I write and I don't want to shock them!

Without children my purpose may shift to something less valuable. I would see things differently and perhaps not so optimistically. I may not care so much about trying to revive our planet to ensure that my children will not suffer when I am gone. If I were asked if I would do it all over again knowing what I know now my answer would be....definitely. My husband, Wade's, answer might be slightly different.

                                        vs.      

Before the last Spring Break back in March a child in my son?s class told my son a story. It was the story of Bloody Mary. Heard of her? No? Well let me fill you in. Apparently, Bloody Mary lives in toilets, sinks and bathtub drains and comes out to kill little children. The 1st grade story teller swears on her heart that this story is true to my son and cements the theory by telling him that Bloody Mary in fact, killed her own little sister.

Now I think I would even be afraid at this point. Wouldn't you?

Since that day way back in March, my son will still not go to the bathroom, take a shower or brush his teeth without me in there with him or hovering somewhere outside the door within his sight. Day or night. We are in what now? August???? Let's see March?April?Ma?

My husband and I have tried to be as convincing as possibleas we lectured, cajoled, soothed, assured, swore and promised him over and over that there was absolutely no such thing as Bloody Mary.

'Would we ever lie to you?' we repeatedly asked. 'Trust us!' we pleaded.

One day, towards the end of the school year, his teacher called me to complain that my son was spreading this horrible story on to other children and scaring the bejeezes out of them. So I took a breath. Waited five seconds and then proceeded to enlighten her on the origin of the Bloody Mary story. I also glossed over my son?s new won?t go alone bathroom habits.

'Oh I'm so sorry', she says. 'Poor Baby' she continues.

Well of course he is talking about it! That is how kids process things. Can you imagine what has been going on his head?

So since the whole class was now in on the tale, I asked, and she agreed, to please instruct all of the kids collectively on the truth of this fabled drain drenched fiend.

Perhaps the whole high teacher authority thing would finally bring the truth home.

Ah...nope what are we in now August?

I never took into account the vulnerability of a child?s imagination. Perhaps because I never cursed it before. And I feel for him. His fear is definitely real even if the cause is not. I guess I can't pick and choose when to activate or deactivate his healthy imagination.

Which is why I'm glad that I make it a point not to encourage the Easter Bunny because I feel a life sized stuffed rabbit is far scarier than anything that pops out of a drain. Might as well have a giant Evil Clown prancing around while your at it. 

But to that, I have successfully convinced him that there is a big fat man in a red suit that squeezes his fat ass down a chimney and brings toys to all the boys and girls in the world in just one night. Yes, to his question-even in apartment buildings. He is a magical fat ass after all.

I've also convinced him that the Tooth Fairy is one fine bed-hopping chick.

The 3 Stages of the Tooth Fairy.

You believe in the tooth Fairy

You don?t believe in the tooth fairy

You are the tooth fairy

Full disclosure on Santa- when to tell your child that Santa is not real (oh he's not?)

You don't! You let your child tell you.

It will come in forms like 'hey mom, we just saw Santa in the Mall how can he be at Kmart also?' or 'What do reindeer drink for gas? I never see any signs at Shell?'

So why should he believe me when I tell him that some bloody drain kid sucker doesn't exist? Look at all of the crap I have filled his head with so far. Granted it is good crap but let's call a turd a turd shall we?

Why should one be real and the other not? Children don't discriminate, they believe in all things fake equally for now anyway.

Why? Because wondrously and thankfully their imaginations are too strong to be broken.

And that is what I want! Truly! They are only little once and I want him to have the journey of magical thoughts and dreamy Christmas Eves. I worship that special place in a child?s heart!

But for now, I guess that I just have to deal with the flip side to that wonderful coin and fight the evil battles of the dark side of his imagination.

So if you need me? I'll be in the John with my kid (-:

mrsblogalot

Twist and tear and boogie woogie

If a blog posts in the forrest does it still make an impact? 

Ahem?Testing?Testing? 1 2 3, Is this thing on?

Since I have become addicted to blogging, I haven't given that much thought as to who (if anyone) was reading my blogs or what (if at all) kind of impact my words would actually have. In the dense forest of so many wonderful and highly talented bloggers, would I even be noticed?

Would anyone read a word of what I've written?

Who knows? Not who cares? Let's not get crazy. But who really knows?

I have been so all consumed with the creation of each and every blog that burns to get out of me that I haven't looked back much. Once I am finished with one blog, I am just itching to get on to the next.

So if I write a blog and nobody reads it and it doesn't change the world, what's the point right?

Wrong.

My blogs admittedly will never change the world but I have to say that they sure have changed me.

Reading blogs have also been altering. I have read many a blog and though I might not have commented on all of them, they definitely did and continue to enlighten, educate, amuse and comfort me in so many ways.

Once your words are out there, who knows who they will touch? Well, you may never know or  you could be rewarded with some lengthy detailed comments below your posts that acknowledge and validate all of your efforts (if your lucky).

In either case, if blogging moves you, it is enough. If having any platform for your passionate thoughts and ideas is giving you a secret thrill, believe me, you will move others. Passion gets around. It's the real deal.

Well, here's hoping that all of us Still Waters continue to produce stirring internal and external blog waves!

Surfed or not 

When I was little I envisioned an Only Child as living a life of illuminated, jewel speckled cocooned joy. Having to share a room and everything else with my brother painted a very imaginative picture of the other side of sibling throughout the get-off-it's-mine years.

But as the now mother of a wonderful Only child, I could have never even imagined the extreme loneliness that could be trapped inside that dazzling shell.

It became quite apparent after 730 requests for us to make him a brother or sister (which adds up to one request per day for the past two years).

So after 730 excuses, explanations and pitifully obvious distraction bribes we decided to tackle the problem in a different way.

If we can't make more (44 years old-one and done thank you), let's rent some! At least for an hour or two.

Yes! Play dates! Many Many play dates! The perfect solution to our lonely Only Child problem!

Take him out like a car wash and have him come back all shiny and played with. Maybe the make me one requests will be cut in half this year!

Well easy schmezy in theory.

What I didn't take into account was that, in order for my son to have friends, I had to make friends first. And I discovered that my rudimentary let's be friends skills were painfully rusty.

So on top of that, there are so many things to think about for my master plan to work: The kids have to get along? The parents have to get along?. Coordinating time schedules made? Complimentary hygiene beliefs agreed upon, acceptable kid and Mom friendly non life threatening venue? etc.

I personally have happily maintained a solid handful of great friends throughout the years. And they are a small but mighty group and so enough for me. I was never one who needed a gang of girls or a heavy social activity schedule (I don't even enjoy shopping but I swear to come back as a real girl in my next life). In fact, the mere thought of too much girl stuff could make me break out in a cold sweat. So when I had to make friends, I have to admit, I had a very hard time at first.

When was the last time that I had made a new friend?

Hmmm?.Well there was?Then, what was her na?. What about?.Nope, can't remember.

But loving my son more than air pushed me to take a leap out of my comfort zone big time.

If I expect him to learn the basics of everything in life then the least I can do is revisit some of them.

I did run into some obstacles. I found that Moms with two or more kids that have the awesome and innate ability to take everything in stride can make me look like a hovering lunatic when it comes to my son.

I don't like looking like a lunatic.

I had such a hard time jump starting my master Play-Date-plan because I was not comfortable with just dropping him off and picking him up later as many willing play-date-moms were suggesting.

Am I a lunatic? How do I just drop The-Reason-I-Live-And-Breathe at someone's house? Someone that I only know in school-pickup -'let's-get-the-kids-together-sometime' passing?

Many of them were willing to drop their kids off at my house as well (not knowing me any better) and two of them actually did just that!

Here I had made ready all the appropriate entertainment snacks and beverages to not only supply for the child who was coming to play but his mom as well. But you know what happened? They let the child out of the car and shouted 'See you in a few hours' to me and their child and left.

I know, right?

I even tried to coax them inside more than willing to supply a full resume of my non-criminal background and fingerprints along with a complete tour proving that there were no sinkholes or alcoholic relatives partaking on the couch (not that day anyway). Perhaps give them some peace of mind- if they didn?t plan on staying for the full visit.

 Now I wasn't worried about them leaving their precious one with me because I know me. But they didn't. Shouldn't they want to get to know me first before leaving their child in my care?

Perhaps if I had a few more kids, these things wouldn't seem so magnified to me and I can then watch the mom scoop up a thrown pacifier off of the floor and kiss it up to the sky and place it back in the baby's mouth without cringing. But I guess at this stage, I will never find out.

Luckily, I have met some great moms with fantastic kids that do share my lunacy about new play date drop offs and it is actually kinda fun making new friends all over again.

So Play Date to Play Date, I feel that I am working my way to a comfortable place where my Only and I can both be happy.

Hey, wanna be friends? 

mrsblogalot