Mr. PTT

I've been doing a lot of sighing lately. Not somber sighing. The kind of sighing that is a placeholder for screaming. The kind of sighing that forces you to bite your tongue, take a deep breath, and sometimes turn away.

This sighing came about with the new visitor in my home. I call him a visitor because I pray to Dear God, this is just a "visit" and he will soon go away. Far, far away. I will call him Mr. PTT -- Mr. Pre-Terrible-Twos. This friend, is not my child. He only likes to pop up every once in a while at the most inopportune times and say, Wazzzz up??!!! However, he and my child have seemed to hit it off lately. They're chummy. Even conspire against me.

Yesterday, Cub and I went to the bank. He loves the bank. We enter in all happy. He's holding my hand and walking, greets our usual Customer Service lady with a big, toddler, "Hi!". Then continues walking like he owns the place, dragging me along. Everything was all good. Then Mr. PTT showed up out of nowhere. Like, Blaaaahhhhhhhhhh! And my sweet child was gone. I was left holding this kicking, screaming, defiant person.

So I, sigh, and take a deep breath. Finish my transaction as quickly as possible and leave the bank.

Perhaps a little FroYo will bring back my Cubster. So we leave the bank and my child is back. Everybody happy. We've only had frozen yogurt one other time together. And it was just a taste. But since the shop is next to the bank, why not. We go in, help ourselves to the self-serve yumminess and sit down to eat a fruity yogurty snack. Cub takes a few bites, mmmm. Pleasantly sitting on mommy's lap then --- BLAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! Mr. PTT shows up again! Taking the spoon from me -- and he's STRONG -- and manages to splat the yogurt off the spoon all over my face and clothes. Nice. Then kicks out of my lap and wants to go monkey on me.

Once again, we leave and my Cub returns, happy camper and all. We go visit a dog grooming place, talk to the nice guy cutting the dog, meet some other kids, talk with their mom, talk to whoever else all this time and then get to our car. When I get inside to drive off, I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and I had a quality drop of dried yogurt on my nose like Rudolf the Red Nosed Yogurt Fool! And could only sigh, embarrassed as can be that all those people were probably staring at my nose and never said a word.

The Sisterhood of Motherhood

Many people can become mothers. Whether young or old. Medical science has proven and surprised us on both ends with that fact.

You don't have to go through a rites of passage, pledge a mom sorority -- although I'm sure there are many "Delta Drama Mamas" out there, not to be taken personal Deltas! -- or go through some painful initiation -- which some may associate with childbirth. But one of the perks of motherhood I cherish the most is the "Sisterhood of Motherhood". Which is open to everyone.

The other day I was at Whole Foods. I never sit down to eat in their cafe area, but since I had Cub with me and we had time to kill, let alone a piping hot delicious latte, I decided to take a seat. Besides there were some young kids playing over at the long communal table and I thought he'd enjoy watching them play and I could enjoy savoring my latte. So we took a seat beside the kids and their mom. The mom was staring ahead. Zoning out. While the kids tugged and pulled at her and... WHINED! She finally dropped her head onto the table and closed her eyes, shutting them out. I smirked to myself remembering feeling that way just a day before. Then I said to her, "You look like me yesterday." She raised her head and smirked. Then said, "Oh, my god! How do we do this?!" We both laughed. Her face brightened up. It was a Saturday morning and wet outside. There wasn't much to do with the kids and she couldn't fathom being with them for another two hours without a break. So I suggested taking them to the library. A light went off in her head. Of course, the library! Duh! She was relieved I made that suggestion. In all her tiredness her mind had gone blank. So there they were at Whole Foods, driving mom crazy.

As we talked more and the kids started to play together, her whole demeanor changed. Suddenly she was re-energized, refocused, and ready to take on the kids. Just a moment of being able to bond with another mom and yes, vent, did wonders. Like an espresso shot of relief. They left shortly after that, headed to the library. And we left too. Both of us grateful for the interaction.

The day before when I was losing it, I had called another mommy friend. To vent. I felt a little embarrassed but had to talk with someone. I was at that -- Oh, my god! moment. And my friend laughed and said, "You're just having one of those moments?? I go through that at least once or twice a week!" Hearing her say that removed the huge block of guilt balancing on my head. I then felt, renewed. Like, "Okay, I'm not crazy. This is normal."

What would we do without the sisterhood of motherhood?! I would probably hide under my bed and never come out.

Marble Poop

The other morning. 4 AM in the morning, that is. I went into Cub's room to change his diaper. When I got into the room, it smelled a little "poopy" but after I lifted him from the crib and did the sniff test, I passed it off as gas (pun intended).

So, it's 4 AM and dark. I don't turn on the light because he's still half-asleep and I'm changing him. The diaper by this time is heavily saturated and probably weighing half of his weight. I take it off of him, look inside and nope, no poo. Definitely was gas.

Then I snapped on a fresh diaper and started putting his little feet back into his pj's. You know the ones with the feet. Love those! Why can't we wear them as adults?! Anyway, as I push his little feet into the pj's and start to zip him up, I feel them. THEM. Little rabbit poops. A whole handful of them sliding behind his back and down into the feet, all across the changing pad. I have to lift one up to do a real sniff check and make sure it is what I'm thinking it is -- hey, it's dark, I said!!

And yep. It's poo. Tons of little marble poos. That slipped right out of the diaper in the dark. So there I sat, marble poops in hand, a now sleeping baby, freshly changed -- or so I thought. And what do I do?

Dump the "shit" in the genie -- with my hands (okay, I really used a wipe) -- and put the babe back in his crib. I'll do a thorough wipe down when he wakes up!

Don't judge me. And yes, I did wash my hands after that. I think. Heck, I can't remember, it was 4 AM!

Kick In The Pants

Everybody needs a kick-in-the-pants friend (KITPF).
Not somebody who will kick you when you're down.
Or someone that's a constant burden, kicking the life out of you.

But a friend that's a straight shooter.
Someone not afraid to tell you you're full of B.S.

As mothers, we especially need these types of friends.
There are too many reasons to justify why we did this or reacted to that or failed to do such and such. It's true we have a lot on our plates logistically, emotionally and physically.
But a KITPF will tell you when you need to suck it up.
A KITPF will tell you when it was your fault or when you are being childish.
And you'll be stronger and better after that good kick in the pants.

I was lunching with a KITPF this weekend. I was complaining in my most charming way about how difficult it is right now to decide whether I should return to working full-time for a studio or network or if I should stay at home longer, yada yada. And all the projects I'm developing at home right now but not sure if they're really going to be good, etc. So basically I was playing my violin.

My KITPF looked at me and said, "Boo hoo. You get to stay at home with your son, develop your own projects, meet with various people that a lot of people would die to meet with, and you're feeling sorry for yourself." Then she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry I don't feel bad for you at all." And essentially told me to get over it. Wow.

I sat there smiling, trying to take this kick in the pants with dignity but there was nothing to smile about. She was right. Nothing to frown about either. But it was time to straighten up and do what I gotta do. If it's gonna be this way, go that way. If it's going to go that way, then go that way. But don't sit around complaining about the wonderful opportunities in my lap!

If all your friends always pat you on the back and smile in your face, beware! Run!

Go find a good KITPF. You'll be better and the friendship will be stronger!