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Family Drama
Category

  • Is She Sad?

    Most of the time when we talk about people we have the decency to do it behind their backs.  It is pretty rare to turn to the person next to you to gossip about the person across from you.  Usually that thought of being overheard is enough to keep your commentary to yourself.

    But The Munch doesn’t seem to have this filter.  If we are in public and she feels like talking about the strangers we come into contact with, she just does it.  With out any shame.  And always just loud enough that the hear everything.

    Munch: “Mamma, who is that girl?”

    Toni: “I don’t know Munch I have never met her.”

    Munch: “Is she a girl, or is she old?”

    Toni: “Ummmm I think she is in the middle.”

    Munch: “So she is not old?”

    Toni: “No Munch, she is just right?”

    Munch: “Is she sad?”

    Toni: “I don’t think so.”

    Munch: “She looks sad.”

    Toni: “She is fine Munch.”

    Munch: “Now she looks angry.  Is she angry Mamma?”

    Toni: “Probably.”

    Munch: “What is that man doing over there?”

    Toni: “Uhhhhh he is just shopping Munch.”

    Munch: “And he is wearing shoes?”

    Toni: “Yeah he sure is.”

    Munch: “And his shoes are dirty?”

    Toni: “I guess they are, yes.”

    Munch: “So he can’t wear them in his house? Or is his house dirty?”

    Toni: “I am sure he just takes them off before he goes inside.”

    Munch: “Is he angry? Is that man angry?”

    Toni: “Yeah, I think he is.”

    Munch: “Mamma, is that girl hungry over there? Or is she full?”

    Toni: “I think she is hungry Munch, that’s why she is ordering a sandwich.”

    Munch: “She looks full.”

    Toni: “Well, she is not full.”

    Munch: “Mamma is that girl angry?”

    Toni: “For sure.”

    (What’s the big deal Mamma…. its just a little coffee talk).

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    April 24, 2013 • 2 years old, Adventures, Baby Brain, Family Drama, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 1379

  • Here Kid, Play The Dictionary Game

    There are all sorts of things I resent my parents for.  I think both my mom and dad are lovely people, but I could pick apart and overanalyze their parenting styles until I am blue in the balls.  And no I am not mixing metaphors.  I do in fact have balls that I dip in blue dye when critiquing my parents.

    One thing that I have really begrudged my dad for was that I felt like he didn’t play with me enough as a kid.  Maybe that is because my dad was really fun to play with, and I always wanted more – so no matter how much time he devoted to my amusement it would never be enough.  We had such stellar games as me pretending to be little red riding hood, my dad was the big bad wolf, and I would have him chase my down the street yelling “I am going to get you little girl” while I ran away from him screaming.  I mean come on… I don’t know why my dad felt uncomfortable playing that one?

    But I have to say that having a kid really puts my parents into perspective.  I can look at all these judgments I have held onto and realize “ohhhhhh now I get it.”  Although I am sure my dad thought it was fun to play for a little bit, he also wasn’t a kid and kind of wanted to live his life.

    I relate to this aspect of my dad a lot.  I really love hanging out with The Munch and playing games like where she pretends I am a baby and shoves pacifiers in my face – but sometimes I would rather be reading or writing.  I know this time with her is fleeting, and she wont be a kid forever and I have to cherish these moments, but now I understand why my dad would play the dictionary game with me so often.  (The dictionary game was a game my dad made up while he was working and I wanted his attention.  He would find a word in the dictionary, like endoplasmic reticulum and then have me find it in the dictionary.  Considering I was 5 at the time, it took kind of a while).

    (Here are my dad and I at a Grateful Dead Show… Yeah… that really happened)

    dictionary-game-blog-(i)

  • I Am So Good At Multitasking And Am Supre Focsued Rght Nwo

    People like to think they are really good at multitasking, and by people I mean me.  In fact, this sentence just took me 15 minutes to write because I am having two text conversations as I am trying to type.  See how good at multitasking I am!?  At this rate I will have this blog piece done in 3 hours.  Talk about efficiency. Ha… just checked my phone and texted again.  This is awesome.

    So according to this study in the Atlantic, people who multitask the most, and think they are proficient at it, are actually the worst multitaskers.  They says it because… oh I don’t know – something about overconfidence and impulsiveness but I can’t really remember because I was dribbling a soccer ball, bouncing an orange with my nose, giving myself bangs, listening to a podcast, changing my underwear, and eating a edemame while reading it.

    I have always been a multitasker.  Maybe that is because I try to do it all and really do nothing?  Or perhaps I am in a constant state of distraction and this type of thinking is a manifestation of that?  But you know what? One day there I was hanging out, and noticed that something was coming out of my vagina – and it happened to be a human being!  Since that time, I feel like its impossible not to be an excessive multitasker.  If I am around my child there is no way I can stay in a state of focus and not have her interrupt me every 2 minutes to talk about how the owl is scared of lady bugs or asking me to make her a fucking smoothie.

    Being a parent has taken me to a whole new level of multitasking.  I am pretty much a pro at cooking her dinner while cleaning up lunch while putting her sparkly shoes on her hands while trying to stealthfully wipe jelly out of her ear. I have adapted to having conversations with friends in stilted segments of 45 seconds.  Although this is a great exercise in memory – I have to say I usually wish I had a stenographer so I wouldn’t have to ask, “wait, so what were just talking about” so many goddamn times.

    But the ultimate test of my level of concentration and ability to deal with the distraction that is The Munch, is when we do yoga together.  Often times she wants to “help me”, which usually consists of her getting in my way and hanging off my legs.  If I am in a headstand she often thinks this is the best time to hug, or get in my face and tell me about how her baby doll doesn’t like popcorn and thinks spiders should dance, but only in the summer.

    This morning a few of us practiced yoga together, and my friend Sarah brought her son Desmond too.  We were all trying really hard to pay attention and be one with the universe and all that crap, but….

    Toni: “Okay lets come into a warrior one pose.”

    Munch: “ Mamma, can you find my phone for me?”

    Toni: “Munch, Mamma is trying to focus… we can find it later.  Now come into warrior 3 post.”

    Desmond: “Mom I am thirsty?”

    Sarah: “Okay well I will get you some water when I am done?”

    Munch: “Mamma, can you get my phone?”

    Sarah: “Desmond go help Adelia find her phone.”

    Desmond: “I can’t right now. I am on the bike.”

    Toni: “Now extend your arms into superman arms.”

    Desmond: “Did somebody say super man?”

    Munch: “Mamma, I have to go potty?”

    Toni: “Now come into balancing on your left leg.”

    Desmond: “Mom, you want this apple?”

    Sarah: “Ummmm yeah that’s really great thanks.”

    Desmond: “Mom, Adelia can’t have my gun.”

    Sarah: “Okay Des that’s fine.”

    Munch: “Mamma, can you find my phone for me?”

    Desmond: “Wait who said superman arms?”

    Toni: “Come to balance on the right leg.”

    Desmond: “Hey Adelia I found your phone.”

    At the end of our session we were in shavasana -where you lay down like a corpse and are supposed to be in a deep meditation… and of course these two just kept on chatting.

    Desmond: “Adelia, come here.”

    Munch: (stomps around running the other direction)

    Desmond: “No, Adelia come here.”

    Munch: (stomps over to Des)

    Desmond: “Do you want to play hide and seek?”

    Munch: “Yeah.”

    Desmond: “Okay, you count I am going to hide.”

    Munch: (stomps over to me).  “Mamma.  We are going to play hide and seek! Watch me while you are sleeping okay? Okay Mamma?  Mamma can you hear me? Wake up.”

    Toni: “Yeah that’s great.”

    Desmond: “Okay count Adelia.”

    Munch: “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,16,17,18,19,20”

    Son of a bitch Munch you never remember 15!! What the fuck! (Yeah, so that’s what I was thinking while multitasking meditating).

    multitasking-blog-(i)

  • Hey Mom, Stop Stalking Me With Your Voice

    “Be careful how you talk to your children, because one day that will become their inner voice.” – some quote on Facebook (is that ligit to say now? Can I just quote shit with “eh… saw it on my news feed?”)

    I think this is a really interesting idea.  I know all of us have our mother’s/father’s voices in our heads – yapping away as part of our internal dialogue.  Judging, and telling you what to do… “Toni be careful of crumbs or the ants will come.  Toni throw away your Popsicle sticks.  Toni don’t paint your nails on the living room rug.  Toni don’t walk with your hands in your pocket because if you trip you won’t be able to catch yourself and will fall on your face.” Okay so obviously my mom was obsessed with cleanliness and my dad once had a really bad fall.

    Recently I noticed that not only is my mom’s voice in the phone giving me orders to keep things tidy, or in my head further critiquing, but she is also coming out of my child’s mouth!

    Let me explain.  Every time my mom comes over to my house she has to take the toilet paper, which is usually placed on the floor next to the toilet, and put it on the roll.

    “Toni, why don’t you put the toilet paper on the roll? I just had to do it for you again.”

    “Well because it is just going to run out and I will have to take the empty paper roll off, then put the other roll on.  I can’t stand the futility and repetition – all the time it wastes in life.”

    “That takes two seconds?!”

    “Well mom, that is two seconds I just don’t have.”

    But ever since Munch started using the potty she insists I always put the toilet paper on the roll!  She will freak out if I don’t!!  I am not sure if the Munch and my mom are in on this together? I have also noticed that The Munch makes me clean up crumbs immediately upon their creation – even if she is the one making them.  Is this only the beginning of constant badgering coming from every direction in my life? Come to think of it, I am pretty sure The Munch is a secret operative for my mom’s agenda.

    (Hahahahahaha I your face Mom and Munch!)

    mom-voice-blog-(i)

    April 18, 2013 • 2 years old, Baby Brain, Family Drama, Musings, Pee & Poop, Relationships • Views: 1812

  • So This is What Trust Is

    The Munch having pink eye was not only a revolting mess for me, but I also sometimes care about her too – and it looked pretty darn uncomfortable.  Plus it wasn’t healing, so after about 4 days of “Old Indian Bark” (not a joke… and that not being a joke makes it even more disturbing than if it were a joke) I decided to try the white man’s medicine.

    The first attempt of getting the medicine in her eye was truly traumatizing.  I had this goo I was supposed to line in the inside of her eyeball twice a day. That means pulling down the bottom lid, looking deep into that red cavernous veiny grossness, and then squeezing gunk into it.  All while her eye was open.  Three of us had to hold her down and she was so upset by it, she immediately wept out all the medicine.  So that was an epic fail and I was pretty sure that unless I had sedatives (I mean, ones that I was willing to share) I had to come up with a new strategy.

    That night I did something so brave, so reckless, it is hard to believe I am still here to tell you about it.  Before I begin, I have to let you in on one fact.  The Munch is still on the boob.  I know… that is fucking nuts.  She will be 3 in July, and I can’t tell you how over it I am.  It is the one thing we get into serious fights over.  I never knew my boobs were in such high demand.  Just kidding, I have dated a man before.  I only do it once a day to get her to nap, but please Gaia let this be over soon.  I will sacrifice my first born if you do.  Seriously, I totally will.

    So I had this idea that if I let her do “nana” (as she likes to call it) while I put the medicine in, then maybe she wouldn’t struggle the same and I could actually get it in her eye.  Of course this was a fucking ludicrous idea.  What sane person would put their boob in such a vulnerable position, as in – someone’s mouth where it could get chomped off -while you were administering medicine in their sensitive eye?  Especially if said person is an irrational toddler who is intensely afraid of this process.

    But I figured it was about trust.  If I showed The Munch I trusted her, then she in turn could trust me.  I mean even though no one likes to have their eye peeled open and have crap squirted into it, unless you are into that sort of thing- no judgment here- this process wasn’t going to hurt her if she just relaxed.

    And you know what? It totally worked! She did not bite my nipple off, and now her eye is better.  So I highly suggest next time you are trying to get someone to trust you who is having a hard time and battling their fear, let them cup your balls or vagina.  Trust me.  It will work.

    (Only when feeling healthy is one ready to rock their leopard vest with no pants)

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    April 15, 2013 • 2 years old, Baby Body, Baby Brain, Family Drama, Health • Views: 1288

  • Got Your Nose! (But Seriously, Give it Back)

    You know those fun little games adults used to play on you when you were a kid?  Like grabbing a quarter from behind your ear, or pretending to get your nose and then using their thumb as a decoy.  Remember how sweet and innocent that was?

    So I decided I would play those game with The Munch.  I gently tugged on her nose, ever so slightly, and said the expected phrase “I got your nose” showing her the supposed nose between my fingers.  She of course thought this was delightful, and quite hilarious.  So I thought to myself.  “I have done a good thing.  I have passed down this generational gift, and now she too can experience the nostalgia.”

    Yeah, that was until she tried to get my nose – and almost ripped the thing off my face!!  Now I live my life in total terror.  Out of nowhere she can attack me with her ninja skills, try to tear my nose bone out of my skull, and then sweetly say “I got your nose Mamma.”  I am not sure if she is a sadist, or genuinely doesn’t understand that you are not supposed to literally detach my nose from my body.

    I should have quite while I was ahead, but instead I had to push it.  I tried the trick of mysteriously finding the quarter behind her ear.  Again, this brought her much joy, until I tried to put the quarter back into my pocket.

    “That’s my Money Mamma!! MINE!!! AHHHHHHHHHH DON’T TAKE IT!!!!”

    Okay fine keep it – you capitalist.

    Then later on that day she started taking her filthy little nails and scraping the back of my ear.  And mind you, these things are sharp!

    “Ow Munch.  What are you doing to my ear?”

    “I am looking for the money?”

    “No munch there is no money behind Mamma’s ears.  It was just a magic trick.  Its not real.”

    “It is real!! There is money behind your ears!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! I WANT IT!!”

    So now not only do I have a bloody nose, but also bleeding ears that are sort of falling off my head.  Barely hanging on by a string of ear flesh.  Think I am going to stick to games like “go fish” from now on.

    (Check out Munch in her old-timey coat and pocket book!)

    got-your-nose-blog-(i)

  • The Selfish Madonna

    The romanticized vision of the mother is as a selfless being that radiates unconditional love with endless serene expressions.  This vision is depicted in countless paintings of ‘mother holding child,’ many of which are of the Virgin Mary cradling Jesus.  I guess if I were Jesus’ mother I would be all peaceful and calm – since he was always turning my water into wine.  But for those of us who didn’t spawn holy beings, there are some pretty high societal expectations of the mother.

    There is this perception that mothers are supposed to prioritize their kids above and beyond their own needs at all times.  Yeah… kinda.  I mostly do that.  In a lot of scenarios.  But I think all moms have moments when they can be a little selfish.

    Lets take my mom as an example.  That will be fun. Won’t it Mom!?  When I was a kid, every holiday my mom would leave little baskets outside my door filled with treats.  Okay, relax.  This isn’t the selfish part.  So I would wake up in the morning and find this delightful indulgence of candy and chocolate.  Relax… I am getting there.  I would be so grateful for this lovely display that I would often save my gift.  You know… like to eat it later. I would then come home from school and the head of my Easter bunny would be gone.  So would the tail. Don’t even get my started on my Halloween candy. I don’t know about you, but coming home to your Valentine’s chocolate replaced with the empty wrappers was pretty traumatizing for me.

    There are so many things that I do for The Munch that takes into consideration her desires before my own.  But sometimes I just do what I want to do.  Like hide her favorite book so I don’t have to read it 48 times that morning.

    There are moments when I feel like pursuing my career, taking time for myself, or doing anything without her is selfish.  Of course people assure me that isn’t true.  Fuck, I can tell myself that is bullshit – but it is hard not to feel conflicted at times.  I would like to say that the time I spend away from her makes me appreciate the time I spend with her more, but I really hope she sees it like that too.  As much as a think it is vital for a mother to have a life outside her children, living parts of my life not including The Munch can feel crappy.

    I guess this is the modern conundrum.  If I were a cave woman, I would have her strapped to my back in a fur satchel and bring her with me until she was old enough to harvest and hunt for her self.  You know.  Like 6 months.  We would work together side by side and I wouldn’t have to make any of these hard decisions.  And maybe I would steal some saber tooth tiger meat when she wasn’t paying attention, but I wouldn’t touch her wooly mammoth blood because that is just wrong.

    Biologically I am bonded to The Munch in this unique and profound way.  The mother child connection is one of the most mysterious and meaningful unions, and that is why it has this reputation in the imagination of society.  But psychologically it is really important for me to continue evolving without her.  Maybe part of that process is slightly selfish, but this is going to be something she will go through too when she is a mother, so hopefully The Munch will understand that no decision is simple when you become a parent.  Especially when it comes to Halloween candy, because you better believe I am going to eat all of hers too.

    (Check out my mom ready to go after Munch’s lollipop!! She is not fucking around!)

    selfish-mommy-blog-(i)

    April 9, 2013 • Family Drama, Mommy Mind, Musings, Parenting, Working Mommy • Views: 2919

  • Share Bear

    Some cultures don’t have the word “mine” because everything is considered “ours.”  For them, personal possession isn’t a concept because all property is communal.  Although I think this is a beautiful notion, I was raised in an environment where my Dad’s popcorn was his, and to even think of taking some I had to consider what life would be like without fingers.

    American individualism means that we are very attached to the idea of “I,” “mine,” and “me.”  The person is more important than the collective.  Although we are taught values, and to honor other people by being aware of their needs, that doesn’t take away that our filter is clouded by the idea of “how will this effect me” more than “we.”

    I would say that I am a generous person.  I am giving with what I have: my money, my time, my home, my love.  But when I view something as mine, and feel ownership over it, I don’t like to share it.  I mean, of course I do share – after all I did graduate from the 3rd grade.  But I do so begrudgingly.  More because I don’t want to say “no” than actually wanting you to have a bite of my cupcake.  And to be honest, I say “no” a fair amount too.  I guess I really like cupcakes.

    But since having a child I have had to share everything with her.  I shared my body with her when she was living inside of it, I shared my precious lady parts with her when she burst out of them, I shared my boobs with her as she survived off of them, I share every single thing I eat and drink with her even though she backwashes and her hands are gross.  And you know what? I want to! I even ENJOY sharing with her.  Those crazy mommy hormones make sharing with her feel better than having myself. I would rather The Munch had the last bite of avocado because it is more important that she eats.  My excessive love for her means I want for her more than I want for me.

    But everyone has their limits.

    Last night when I was putting The Munch to bed she decided she wanted to bring my teddy bear into her crib.  Now, I now I am a grown ass woman, but I have been sleeping with a stuffed animal my entire life and that is my teddy bear.

    Toni: “Munch, that is Mamma’s teddy bear.  But it back on my bed please.”

    Munch: “No I want to bring your bear in my crib.”

    Toni: “No sweetie.  That is Mamma’s.  You have all your babies, your seal named Penguin, your weird vagina looking monster thing… Mamma only has one bear.  So can you put him back please?”

    Munch: “No but I want to bring him in my crib!!! Please Mamma.”

    Toni: “Okay Munch.”

    Did I want to share my bear with her?  No. Not at all.  Did I say yes? Of course I did. I am her mother and my love is unconditional.  And because the second after she feel asleep I took it back.

    (Tell me that is not a vagina monster???)

    share-bear-blog-(i)

  • Thanks…. I guess

    Leaving your child in the care of another is always a risk.  But it is one of those necessary risks, like eating food you dropped on the floor, or sitting down on a public toilet to diarrhea.  I always appreciate when someone watches The Munch for me, but it means I have less control over what happens in her day.  Especially when said caretaker happens to be my mom.  Who although is exquisite, will do as she damn well pleases – because she is still the boss in our relationship.

    Toni: “So Mom, how was she?”

    Mom: “She was okay.  She had what I like to call a ‘weak day.’”

    Toni: “Ummmm what does that mean?”

    Mom: “Well, she basically watched the Ipad all day.”

    Toni: “What???????!!!!!!!!!”

    Mom: “She seemed pretty tired, so I gave it to her thinking she would fall asleep, but then she didn’t and wouldn’t let me take it away.”

    Toni: “So she watched the IPad for 6 hours today?!!!”

    Mom: “Yeah, pretty much.  I tried to have her watch Dumbo, but she got really upset when they locked Dumbo’s mother up, and made me turn it off.”

    Toni: “Mom are you out of your mind!!!!??? You had her watch the scene in Dumbo when the locked up his mother??? I am still traumatized by that.  I couldn’t watch that now and not weep. “

    Mom: “Yeah, she was pretty distressed by that.”

    Toni: “How could you do that??”

    Mom: “Toni, Dumbo is a beautiful movie.  I could do a whole diatribe on the meaning of Dumbo.”

    Toni: “Mom!! She is only 2! I can’t believe you let her watch the saddest thing ever to be drawn in the history of all film.”

    Mom: “Calm down Toni. Then we watched Alice and Wonderland for a while, but she really didn’t like it when Alice got shrunk into the bottle.  She made me turn that off too.”

    Toni: “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

    Mom: “So then she insisted on watching these stupid silly things.”

    Toni: “You mean, like, a cartoon for a toddler?  Like Mickey Mouse? Or Pokoyo? Something that doesn’t have severe animal abuse or LSD flashbacks?

    Mom: “Something inane like that.  And she kept trying to have me watch it with her, but there is no way I am watching that crap.”

    Toni: “Wow.  Okay.  Well… I am going to go process this information now.”

    Mom: “Think about it this way Toni, at least now you have something to write about.”

    She wasn’t kidding about that!

    PS: I went to look for the scene in Dumbo to share with you.. and it literally comes up as Dumbo Sad Scene in Youtube

    “Seriously…. why did they do that to Dumbo’s Mommy?”

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    March 25, 2013 • 2 years old, Family Drama, Parenting, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 1725