I am a mother of 4. I am a mother of 4 by chance and by choice. I care for them the best I know how. I fail a lot! I do all the motherly things like cooking, cleaning, sweeping, mopping, toilet scrubbing, boo boo kissing, and the list goes on. I am also in partnership with my Spaz to home school them and release them into the wild when they are ready. So, I correct math, teach reduction, discuss condensation, define prepositions, discuss the nuances of the English language, and this list goes on as well.
With four children comes the activities, the birthday parties, the doctor's appointments, and any other event that will force me into the car and about town. At this point my trusty Dodge Grand Caravan has just shy of 140K miles on it. It was purchased new in 2005. I would say that 85% of those miles have been traveled in Snohomish County. Of course, there are situations where my lack of desire to climb behind the wheel is exceeded by the need to be somewhere. When my son broke his arm, there was no second thought as the miles I was going to drive and the amount of time I was going to invest in this event. When my daughter was hospitalized with her diabetes diagnosis, there was not internal dialogue about how much it was going to cost for my Spaz and I to travel back and forth to Seattle to trade shifts so one of us would be with our daughter the entire time she was there. As a parent we don't give this a second thought.
I do, however, question any time my children want to engage in a social activity, a menial trip to spend the $1.44 they have burning a hole in their pocket, or when a friend wants them to come over and play. All of this driving around adds up, and in my case, to about in a conservative estimate this past year about 10K miles.
These are the times where my quick calculations and recall of historical events comes into play as I participate in what I like to call 'The Fair Game'. I start to think of all the times I've done the dropping off AND picking up because I don't have anything better to do than accommodate another parent and their inability to plant their butt in the car and take on some of the burden. This gets under my skin and riles me up quicker than my kid hiding food under the bathroom sink!
Don't get me wrong, I have no problem pitching in and help out with the whole 'carpool' thing, and doing what I can in an emergency situation, but on the day to day stuff that is just fluff, I get incredibly angry at the fact that the responsibility falls on me to get my children and their friends together. As the mom with the highest number of kids in most of my children's friends social circles, who, in their right mind would think that I have the most time to drive around the countryside picking up and dropping off children?
Maybe it's selfish of me to think what I'm about to say, but I find it very selfish of other parents to rely upon me to get our kids together. If you want your child to socialize with my child, grab your keys, make a phone call, and make a frickin' effort. You drop off, I pick up - or the other way around, I don't care, but the responsibility does NOT rest squarely on my shoulders.
Yeah, I'm angry. There's more to this, and I could go on about favoring one of my children over others in regards to this scenario, but I fear that I would say too much and a public apology would be in order.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
Attention Bullies
There were many times in my life that I was bullied. Yes, it's true, I was a victim of bullying from middle school (6th grade) up to my graduation from high school. I can tell you from these experiences that is sucks bigger than life. There are many out there who are nodding their head in agreement. If you're reading this, and the concept seems foreign to you, then you either fall into two camps - the first being the 'REALLY FRICKIN' LUCKY' camp. If you sailed through school without incident, then good on ya. The second camp being that you, yes you, were the bully.
In all honesty, I admit that I was both the bully and the victim. Once you've been the victim, lashing out at someone weaker is one of the few ways to once again feel a sense of power. It's wrong on every level. But, being a victim of such disgusting behavior is a silent suffering. You can't tell anyone! Why? It's a sign of weakness! Can you imagine if I had told my mother in high school that this boy kept bothering me? What do you think her response would be? It's what every mom says to her daughter when a boy is bugging her. "Well, he just likes you, Honey, and this is the only way he knows how to express it". To that I cry, Bullshit!
Bullies don't like me, they don't hate me either. They've just got my number. They have found a way to get under my skin, push my buttons, you name it, they've figured it out. It's a relentless game of "What are they going to throw at me (sometimes literally) today"? I would hope every morning when I stepped off the bus and onto campus that these vacuous souls would be absent, or better, dead. Maybe it's just my observation, but I swear those who bully have the healthiest immune systems on the planet. No rest for me.
If you were cruel to someone in school, and you have an opportunity to make amends, do so. You really have no idea the torment they endured, nor the damage you did to the fabric of their identity. Your victims carry the scars of your abuse and ridicule with them forever, and you had NO RIGHT to be such a crappy example of human behavior at their expense. APOLOGIZE!
I say this because I had the chance to face my nemesis and call him out. I had the chance to tell him what he did to me and get that off my chest. I also had the amazing fortune of having that boy be a man and apologize. Not only that, he asked me to forgive him. This turned the tables and gave me the power to either destroy his attempts at being civil by demonstrating the same crappy behavior he did, or I could be an example of what I know everyone is capable of - compassion.
I chose compassion. It wasn't easy. It didn't make me feel better right away, and it didn't take away 22 years of damage. What it did to was allow me to no longer let it identify me. Is this person still in my life? Yes, actually more so than I ever thought. Does he hold the same power over me? Absolutely not. Do I hold some sort of power over him as if the tables have been turned? No. It's a mutual respect and understanding about who we are and what we've gone through to get to this point.
So, I say to you. Don't bully other people. Don't push them around, call them names, ridicule their clothes, nationality, sexual orientation, or religion. You're not the foremost authority. You don't know the kind of crap that anyone goes through just to get to school or work every morning. Show the slightest amount of grace and stop looking to improve your station in life by crushing the spirit of others. Do you feel the slightest bit guilty about a past behavior? Fix it.
In all honesty, I admit that I was both the bully and the victim. Once you've been the victim, lashing out at someone weaker is one of the few ways to once again feel a sense of power. It's wrong on every level. But, being a victim of such disgusting behavior is a silent suffering. You can't tell anyone! Why? It's a sign of weakness! Can you imagine if I had told my mother in high school that this boy kept bothering me? What do you think her response would be? It's what every mom says to her daughter when a boy is bugging her. "Well, he just likes you, Honey, and this is the only way he knows how to express it". To that I cry, Bullshit!
Bullies don't like me, they don't hate me either. They've just got my number. They have found a way to get under my skin, push my buttons, you name it, they've figured it out. It's a relentless game of "What are they going to throw at me (sometimes literally) today"? I would hope every morning when I stepped off the bus and onto campus that these vacuous souls would be absent, or better, dead. Maybe it's just my observation, but I swear those who bully have the healthiest immune systems on the planet. No rest for me.
If you were cruel to someone in school, and you have an opportunity to make amends, do so. You really have no idea the torment they endured, nor the damage you did to the fabric of their identity. Your victims carry the scars of your abuse and ridicule with them forever, and you had NO RIGHT to be such a crappy example of human behavior at their expense. APOLOGIZE!
I say this because I had the chance to face my nemesis and call him out. I had the chance to tell him what he did to me and get that off my chest. I also had the amazing fortune of having that boy be a man and apologize. Not only that, he asked me to forgive him. This turned the tables and gave me the power to either destroy his attempts at being civil by demonstrating the same crappy behavior he did, or I could be an example of what I know everyone is capable of - compassion.
I chose compassion. It wasn't easy. It didn't make me feel better right away, and it didn't take away 22 years of damage. What it did to was allow me to no longer let it identify me. Is this person still in my life? Yes, actually more so than I ever thought. Does he hold the same power over me? Absolutely not. Do I hold some sort of power over him as if the tables have been turned? No. It's a mutual respect and understanding about who we are and what we've gone through to get to this point.
So, I say to you. Don't bully other people. Don't push them around, call them names, ridicule their clothes, nationality, sexual orientation, or religion. You're not the foremost authority. You don't know the kind of crap that anyone goes through just to get to school or work every morning. Show the slightest amount of grace and stop looking to improve your station in life by crushing the spirit of others. Do you feel the slightest bit guilty about a past behavior? Fix it.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Handing Over Control Without Being A Back Seat Driver
So begins my attempt to demonstrate to my children how much work I actually do for them. Starting Monday morning, I told them that starting Tuesday morning I would let them run the house for a week. I had them create a menu for the week, a grocery list, and a shopping budget of $100. The idea was quickly embraced, and the girls promptly strategizing.
Off to the grocery store we went. About 5 minutes into the experience I was quite sure I was going to be the psychotic mother behind the first ever WinCo Massacre. There was argument over who would push the cart, who would check off the grocery list, who would hold the pen, who would hold the coupons, and who was NOT allowed to touch the cart. What a sight to behold. After about 40 minutes we emerged successful in our quest with a grand total of $91.91, BUT the ground turkey had yet to be purchased. That required a trip to Fred Meyer. They were out of stock due to the currently advertised coupon. Crap.
We are currently almost done with day 2 and I am quite certain that my home is already a fire hazard. I never realized that my children were so opposed to throwing paper towels away, or any paper products for that matter. With the allergy season currently in full swing, there are used tissues sprinkled throughout the house; placed strategically....everywhere. I think my favorite is in the bathroom on top of the garbage can lid. It truly is the epitome of slackerdom.
I have mentioned a few times that they might want to get a jump on the cleaning, etc. because I would be keeping them up all night Monday night to finish everything that wasn't done during the week. I shall wake up Tuesday morning with my house in the condition it was the week before. It wasn't perfect, but it functional.
I have been doing mine and my husbands' dishes as well as our own personal laundry, but the rest is up to the kiddos. So far, the dishes have been washed 3 times, which isn't a bad showing, and the garbage and recycling have been taken out once. One of my daughters did managed to step over all the crap on the floors to wash the sliding glass door windows and the screen door windows. Is it me, or did she miss the point?
I am going to allow them to succeed or fail without interfering. I want to see what they have learned without my intervention. I want to see if they can step up to the challenge and get things done either individually or as a group. I freely admit that the group mentality in my house is more like mob mentality, but on rare occasions, my children band together and impress my socks off.
I think I'll post some photos on Friday as to the condition of my home. I have a feeling this is going to get interesting.
Off to the grocery store we went. About 5 minutes into the experience I was quite sure I was going to be the psychotic mother behind the first ever WinCo Massacre. There was argument over who would push the cart, who would check off the grocery list, who would hold the pen, who would hold the coupons, and who was NOT allowed to touch the cart. What a sight to behold. After about 40 minutes we emerged successful in our quest with a grand total of $91.91, BUT the ground turkey had yet to be purchased. That required a trip to Fred Meyer. They were out of stock due to the currently advertised coupon. Crap.
We are currently almost done with day 2 and I am quite certain that my home is already a fire hazard. I never realized that my children were so opposed to throwing paper towels away, or any paper products for that matter. With the allergy season currently in full swing, there are used tissues sprinkled throughout the house; placed strategically....everywhere. I think my favorite is in the bathroom on top of the garbage can lid. It truly is the epitome of slackerdom.
I have mentioned a few times that they might want to get a jump on the cleaning, etc. because I would be keeping them up all night Monday night to finish everything that wasn't done during the week. I shall wake up Tuesday morning with my house in the condition it was the week before. It wasn't perfect, but it functional.
I have been doing mine and my husbands' dishes as well as our own personal laundry, but the rest is up to the kiddos. So far, the dishes have been washed 3 times, which isn't a bad showing, and the garbage and recycling have been taken out once. One of my daughters did managed to step over all the crap on the floors to wash the sliding glass door windows and the screen door windows. Is it me, or did she miss the point?
I am going to allow them to succeed or fail without interfering. I want to see what they have learned without my intervention. I want to see if they can step up to the challenge and get things done either individually or as a group. I freely admit that the group mentality in my house is more like mob mentality, but on rare occasions, my children band together and impress my socks off.
I think I'll post some photos on Friday as to the condition of my home. I have a feeling this is going to get interesting.
Monday, December 26, 2011
In Or Out
There comes a time in my daily drudgery that pushes me to the point of purging. I'm not Bulimic, and if you ever saw me, you'd laugh at the thought. I'm referring to the forced mass exodus of crap from my house.
I get so fed up with the debris that my children leave laying around, that I want to purchase a snow shovel and fling it out the front door. I refuse to purchase a snow shovel for many reasons, the first being that I don't live at a high enough elevation to warrant the cost. And second, the fact that I believe snow belongs in the mountains.
Getting back on point, I have come to yet another crossroads of crap. I know I could live with far less than I have, and so could my children. We have enough disposable income to have clutter. We don't get crazy with televisions and the new fangled devices, nor do we spend exorbitant amounts of cash on dining out, theater, or other money sucking entertainment. I actually feel guilty if I hit the espresso bar more than twice a week. So, with my conscience getting the best of me, I feel it is time to take the plunge and start sorting through the madness.
Four children can make for a veritable cornucopia of arts and craft supplies. I have so many yarn fragments, it's ridiculous. I have silver brads, beads, and shiny string. I have gel pens, markers, hole punches and glitter glue. I can say with all honesty and barely a straight face that we have at least 5 glue guns in our house. What happened?! I don't know. To make matters worse, I donated, earlier this year approximately $400 worth of craft supplies and accompanying storage devices to the local Boys and Girls club.
Now, there seems to be a shift in interest at least with my eldest. Gone are the days of hours of Lego adventures. So far in the last year, and I mean literally in the last year we have collected, one guitar, one electric guitar, one digital/electric piano, on banjo, one violin, and one alto saxaphone. This is on top of the snare drum and clarinet we already have, and the departure of an old upright. I just can't keep up! So long as the kids keeps practicing and improving on each instrument, I'm cool. If he appears to be showing signs of hoarding, then I'll ship him off to my mother's where his hoarding will be encouraged.
How to get rid of the excess without completely depleting all items that would inspire creativity and thought? I could toss out the televisions and the video games, but dang it, I like them too! I could force my children to read hours a day, but I find myself becoming quite agitated with the incessant whining. I could kick my children outside, but can't, in good conscience, force them to do something that I'm not willing to do in the dead of Winter.
Wait! Maybe that's my problem. It's been winter for approximately 16 months now. I've been purchasing entertainment tools and gadgets to keep my kids occupied whilst mother nature sequesters us indoors for an insanely inhumane amount of time.
Perhaps I'll just move.
I get so fed up with the debris that my children leave laying around, that I want to purchase a snow shovel and fling it out the front door. I refuse to purchase a snow shovel for many reasons, the first being that I don't live at a high enough elevation to warrant the cost. And second, the fact that I believe snow belongs in the mountains.
Getting back on point, I have come to yet another crossroads of crap. I know I could live with far less than I have, and so could my children. We have enough disposable income to have clutter. We don't get crazy with televisions and the new fangled devices, nor do we spend exorbitant amounts of cash on dining out, theater, or other money sucking entertainment. I actually feel guilty if I hit the espresso bar more than twice a week. So, with my conscience getting the best of me, I feel it is time to take the plunge and start sorting through the madness.
Four children can make for a veritable cornucopia of arts and craft supplies. I have so many yarn fragments, it's ridiculous. I have silver brads, beads, and shiny string. I have gel pens, markers, hole punches and glitter glue. I can say with all honesty and barely a straight face that we have at least 5 glue guns in our house. What happened?! I don't know. To make matters worse, I donated, earlier this year approximately $400 worth of craft supplies and accompanying storage devices to the local Boys and Girls club.
Now, there seems to be a shift in interest at least with my eldest. Gone are the days of hours of Lego adventures. So far in the last year, and I mean literally in the last year we have collected, one guitar, one electric guitar, one digital/electric piano, on banjo, one violin, and one alto saxaphone. This is on top of the snare drum and clarinet we already have, and the departure of an old upright. I just can't keep up! So long as the kids keeps practicing and improving on each instrument, I'm cool. If he appears to be showing signs of hoarding, then I'll ship him off to my mother's where his hoarding will be encouraged.
How to get rid of the excess without completely depleting all items that would inspire creativity and thought? I could toss out the televisions and the video games, but dang it, I like them too! I could force my children to read hours a day, but I find myself becoming quite agitated with the incessant whining. I could kick my children outside, but can't, in good conscience, force them to do something that I'm not willing to do in the dead of Winter.
Wait! Maybe that's my problem. It's been winter for approximately 16 months now. I've been purchasing entertainment tools and gadgets to keep my kids occupied whilst mother nature sequesters us indoors for an insanely inhumane amount of time.
Perhaps I'll just move.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Wishing I Could Fix It
One week ago one of my twins was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. After some intensive care, and many IVs, she was on the mend, and the whole family was in the throws of diabetes education. Having been through this, I can honestly say that I don't wish this type of stress on anyone. I know of families who have had to deal with more treacherous diagnoses, and even worse outcomes, so I consider myself blessed to be burdened with such a manageable disease.
My heart breaks for this little girl who will have to take such a serious look at her food forever. No more can she absentmindedly nosh at a birthday party. Gone are the days of digging into a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater. Every gram of sugar (or any carbohydrate for that matter) shall be accounted for and treated accordingly.
We are taking the opportunity for all the different ways to calculate her insulin as lessons in math. Not just for her, but for her siblings as well. Lots of addition and division to consider depending on all sorts of criteria. It's going to be an adjustment.
We are trying to get her to understand that we need to treat this like an allergy (and at it's most basic level, it is), and be proactive in our treatment of it, rather than reactive. That's the hard part, since it has to do with food. If you're allergic to something, you just avoid it, or treat it after the fact if you accidentally ingest it. With diabetes, we have to treat every food like an allergen with carbs being the culprit.
I wish I could transfer this to me so she could grow up like every other kid. I wish there was an easy fix, but there isn't.
I'm sorry this post isn't as humorous as the others. I know it lacks wit, and sarcasm, but I just had to get this out. I love my children more than life, and I don't want them to suffer unnecessarily. This is not logical. It's not practical, and it's definitely not fair. It sucks.
My heart breaks for this little girl who will have to take such a serious look at her food forever. No more can she absentmindedly nosh at a birthday party. Gone are the days of digging into a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater. Every gram of sugar (or any carbohydrate for that matter) shall be accounted for and treated accordingly.
We are taking the opportunity for all the different ways to calculate her insulin as lessons in math. Not just for her, but for her siblings as well. Lots of addition and division to consider depending on all sorts of criteria. It's going to be an adjustment.
We are trying to get her to understand that we need to treat this like an allergy (and at it's most basic level, it is), and be proactive in our treatment of it, rather than reactive. That's the hard part, since it has to do with food. If you're allergic to something, you just avoid it, or treat it after the fact if you accidentally ingest it. With diabetes, we have to treat every food like an allergen with carbs being the culprit.
I wish I could transfer this to me so she could grow up like every other kid. I wish there was an easy fix, but there isn't.
I'm sorry this post isn't as humorous as the others. I know it lacks wit, and sarcasm, but I just had to get this out. I love my children more than life, and I don't want them to suffer unnecessarily. This is not logical. It's not practical, and it's definitely not fair. It sucks.
Monday, October 24, 2011
You Want Me To What?
A couple months ago, one of the banks I use was shut down and then picked up by another local financial institution. I could really care less as the funds in this account sit at a minimum most of the time. I just got the account because it was at a local bank and therefore convenient, or so I thought.
This particular bank was my 3rd choice as the first two places I walked into were too busy to even acknowledge that I had walked through the door. If they don't have the courtesy to give me the time of day, I can only image what type of careless behavior would be demonstrated with my money. Anyhow, the bank I ended up with was fine. They were very local and always pleasant when I would go in to take care of business.
I was upset when they were absorbed by another banking institution as this mean my in town branch would be closing down and I would now have to go the next town over (literally, I could go north, south or east) to take care of face to face transactions. The convenience factor had now become an issue.
This weekend marked the final transition to the new bank and it's online system. I knew it was coming and figured I would deal with this when it all happened. So, I hopped onto the website this morning to plug in my temporary ID and password so that I could set up my new online banking stuff. What a frickin' nightmare! I am ready to close my account and keep my money in my shoe!
We all know the drill. Once you get into the new system, you have to create your own unique ID and password. This place was so specific, it doesn't lend itself to security. It has to have a minimum numeric symbols and a minimum alpha characters. It took me over 10 minutes to get that all figured out. Never mind that I had done it correctly at least 4 times and it still didn't like what I was putting in. Then for each flippin' page I would have to put in my 'helpful hint' questions. This place knows more about me than my husband does. It would take one disgruntled IT employee to decimate everyone's accounts and disappear. Stupid!
Don't get me wrong, I feel that security is important and that we should be cautious about our user names and passwords, but it seems as though all of these security measures are being put into place to protect us from the bank's security problems. I don't have any plans on being hacked as I don't post my information anywhere. Why would the bank need to take such ridiculous precautions if they were doing their job correctly?
Enough of this rant. I will probably give this 'new' bank a few months to see if they can step up their irritation factor any more. If they succeed at any level with annoying my further, I will be pulling my pittance and placing it elsewhere.
This particular bank was my 3rd choice as the first two places I walked into were too busy to even acknowledge that I had walked through the door. If they don't have the courtesy to give me the time of day, I can only image what type of careless behavior would be demonstrated with my money. Anyhow, the bank I ended up with was fine. They were very local and always pleasant when I would go in to take care of business.
I was upset when they were absorbed by another banking institution as this mean my in town branch would be closing down and I would now have to go the next town over (literally, I could go north, south or east) to take care of face to face transactions. The convenience factor had now become an issue.
This weekend marked the final transition to the new bank and it's online system. I knew it was coming and figured I would deal with this when it all happened. So, I hopped onto the website this morning to plug in my temporary ID and password so that I could set up my new online banking stuff. What a frickin' nightmare! I am ready to close my account and keep my money in my shoe!
We all know the drill. Once you get into the new system, you have to create your own unique ID and password. This place was so specific, it doesn't lend itself to security. It has to have a minimum numeric symbols and a minimum alpha characters. It took me over 10 minutes to get that all figured out. Never mind that I had done it correctly at least 4 times and it still didn't like what I was putting in. Then for each flippin' page I would have to put in my 'helpful hint' questions. This place knows more about me than my husband does. It would take one disgruntled IT employee to decimate everyone's accounts and disappear. Stupid!
Don't get me wrong, I feel that security is important and that we should be cautious about our user names and passwords, but it seems as though all of these security measures are being put into place to protect us from the bank's security problems. I don't have any plans on being hacked as I don't post my information anywhere. Why would the bank need to take such ridiculous precautions if they were doing their job correctly?
Enough of this rant. I will probably give this 'new' bank a few months to see if they can step up their irritation factor any more. If they succeed at any level with annoying my further, I will be pulling my pittance and placing it elsewhere.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Marked Drowsiness Can Occur
Are there any 4 words in the English language more beautiful when it comes to medicating your child? I think not! I don't know about you, but when my children are under the weather, I don't want them conscious. I want them passed out, quietly sleeping away whatever ails them. Compassionate nursemaid I am not.
Judge me all you want, but when I go to the drug store, I look for drugs. To find something to merely mask the symptoms is not enough for this busy mom. I need something that will take the place of a babysitter. I looked for the 'Marked drowsiness can occur' statement, or anything that says nighttime. I make no apologies for my lack of beside manner. I suck at it, and you know why? I don't want anyone doting over me when I'm sick. Just leave me in a dark corner and don't touch me. Feel free to check in from time to time, but please for the love of all things holy, don't pet my head, offer me anything, or talk to me in a soothing syrupy voice. I think that just exacerbates the symptoms and prolongs my recovery.
I don't ever medicate my children without due cause, and I never over medicate my children. I just want the most bang for my buck, and that means when the proper dosage is administered, I want a lethargic, semiconscious child that may or may not be drooling. I'm fine either way. Give me 2-4 hours of time to be productive and I'll be able to give them the (maximum) 15 minutes of 'good mom doting' that they need (So, I'm told) to make them feel cared for.
I've managed to keep my 4 children alive for a cumulative 42 years. I've only physically scarred one of them - completely by accident, and truth be told, the emotional scars won't be known until they're married and someone else has to deal with them. I think I do a pretty decent job. I'm not the best and will never be awarded mother of the year. I don't want to be - too much expectation. I fail my kids all the time, making me human. I invest my time and energy in hopes that my guidance and tutelage will turn out someone who is well-rounded and mostly normal. Just so you know, with that kind of commitment the same can be said for me, "Marked Drowsiness Can Occur". Thank you God for coffee!
Judge me all you want, but when I go to the drug store, I look for drugs. To find something to merely mask the symptoms is not enough for this busy mom. I need something that will take the place of a babysitter. I looked for the 'Marked drowsiness can occur' statement, or anything that says nighttime. I make no apologies for my lack of beside manner. I suck at it, and you know why? I don't want anyone doting over me when I'm sick. Just leave me in a dark corner and don't touch me. Feel free to check in from time to time, but please for the love of all things holy, don't pet my head, offer me anything, or talk to me in a soothing syrupy voice. I think that just exacerbates the symptoms and prolongs my recovery.
I don't ever medicate my children without due cause, and I never over medicate my children. I just want the most bang for my buck, and that means when the proper dosage is administered, I want a lethargic, semiconscious child that may or may not be drooling. I'm fine either way. Give me 2-4 hours of time to be productive and I'll be able to give them the (maximum) 15 minutes of 'good mom doting' that they need (So, I'm told) to make them feel cared for.
I've managed to keep my 4 children alive for a cumulative 42 years. I've only physically scarred one of them - completely by accident, and truth be told, the emotional scars won't be known until they're married and someone else has to deal with them. I think I do a pretty decent job. I'm not the best and will never be awarded mother of the year. I don't want to be - too much expectation. I fail my kids all the time, making me human. I invest my time and energy in hopes that my guidance and tutelage will turn out someone who is well-rounded and mostly normal. Just so you know, with that kind of commitment the same can be said for me, "Marked Drowsiness Can Occur". Thank you God for coffee!
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