Showing posts with label stage of life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stage of life. Show all posts

Thursday, July 14, 2011

This bed is my bed, that bed is your bed

I stumbled onto another fight on Facebook (remember the last one was about moms having a life?). I learned a lesson and decided not to participate in this one, which was raging on several different status updates.
This one was about family beds.
I want to say one thing up front and loud and clear: IF you sleep in a family bed, I AM NOT JUDGING. (Shocking, right?) There are a lot of things that are none of my business--your checking account balance, your spouse's pet names, how long you think leftovers are edible, your comfort level with mildew in your shower--and sleeping with or without your kid is one of those things.
By posting this, I only ask that you extend the same courtesy.
I have been reading in a flood of momblogs, parenting blogs, and tree-hugging, love thy mother, we are allonelife blogs, that a family bed is the only way to go. That putting my child in a crib alone from the age of 1 minute is a cruel yet easy way to turn him into a black trench-coat wearing sociopath.

These articles paint me as the antichrist of moms: apparently, I sit in the vastness of my king bed's unused space, laughing like an evil genius at my child's piteous crying. Alone, sad, and miserable in his giant crib, his brain and soul are being malformed with every moment. I, on the other hand, should have my parent license revoked for ignoring his desperate need to be near me every second of his life.
I will concede that I value my personal space more than the average human being. I hated pregnancy because I had a giant parasite sitting on my bladder and punching my lung for 3/4 of a year. So, it's true that I may be at an emotional disadvantage with my children. I don't like crowds, I don't like it when strangers feel comfortable enough to touch me, and I really don't like it when my kids feel the need to hang off of me all the time.
After 9 months of of having my body transformed into a Macy's Parade balloon, I was admittedly not eager to bring that little sucker into the bed with me. When the kids transitioned out of cribs, I had the luxury of buying them each queen sized beds. Now, if they are sick or have nightmares or want a little cuddle, I can accommodate those needs and then boogie on back to my own bed when done. I don't have to try to fold up onto a toddler or twin bed to soothe, read stories to, or snuggle. But, be sure that the moment the fever is lowered, the books is closed, or the boy is asleep, I am out of that bed as fast as I can stealthily go.
Kids are hot little furnaces, they kick, they gnash their teeth, they flail their arms, they talk, whimper and whine, and frequently wind up perpendicular to the pillows when they sleep. It's like sleeping with a Wild Thing. On vacations, or other times when I'm forced to co-sleep, I have awoken with feet in my kidneys, inexplicable soreness, feet and hands in my face, and general malaise from a lack of rest. Always after these experiences, I am eager to return to my blissful temperpedic; M can jump on the bed and not even spill my wine. Perfect!
So, no. I have never slept in the same bed as my child unless unreasonable hotel/cruise rates required it. Am I a bad parent? I don't think so. When they were babies and cried in their cribs, I retrieved them, rocked them, soothed them, and stuck them back in their cribs. I wasn't a horrible ogre who ignored heart wrenching wails and let them gut it out alone. I loved them, but I gave them the space I would want.
The boys are now school aged, and have never had anxiety about leaving me or their dad for a day at school. They know that we will always be there for them, and that if they fail in any way, we are here to console them, and cheer them on again. I resent that family-bedders are telling me that, somehow, my children are suffering from that lack of closeness. Why does different have to be worse?
I am SURE there are benefits to the family bed. Those were just not benefits that outweigh the cons for our family. AND THAT'S OKAY. My kids are not suffering, I promise. PLEASE STOP TELLING ME TO DO IT YOUR WAY. I'm not telling you to do it mine.
A two person limit per bed worked for us. It may not work for you. Please don't lecture me, criticize me, or tell me how cruel I am.
This bed is big enough for all of us.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

12 Things I've learned after 12 years of marriage

1. Never underestimate the ability of one partner or another to say something insanely stupid. 2. Always assume that if a partner has lied to get out of an obligation, the other partner will blow it within the week, as in "Oh. RIGHT. Friday. We WERE stuck at some work obligation, not sitting home talking about how glad we were not to be out with you guys." 3. If your husband leaves socks by the bed when you are single, he will still leave socks by the bed 12 years later. Cats are easier to train. 4. Asking your husband how his day was and then interrupting him to talk about your day doesn't score any more points with him than not asking about his day at all. 5. At some point in your marriage, you will watch your husband eat a salad and think to yourself, I would rather die than grow old with this person. 6. Children, to be best loved, should be an indistinguishable blend of both parents. One that resembles a partner too much may suffer unfairly for it on occasion. 7. Someone always has to be the bad guy. 8. A sense of humor will not get you through everything. The last laugh is not usually worth it. 9. Couples have been fighting about housework since the first man dropped his spear in a cave. They will be fighting long into the future. Accept your place in this history, know you will fight about it, and be prepared to do it anyway. 10. Couples have been fighting about money since the first woman spent her shells on a new teepee. They will be fighting about it long into the future. Accept that you spent too much on something you didn't REALLY need, and try to do better next time. 11.When people tell their kids that the divorce isn't the kids' fault, they are lying. EVERYTHING is the kids' fault. 12. Don't let your husband know your blog's web address.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Don't look under here!

Martha Stewart has somewhere among her alphabetized, laminated files, a list of all the chores you are supposed to do in your house and how often you're supposed to do them. I'm sure. In fact, on her website, I found no fewer than eight separate checklists for homekeeping: linen closets, kitchens, baths, periodicals, craft supplies and more. I found a list of six chores I should be doing every day. These include picking up clutter, sorting the mail, making the beds, cleaning as you cook, wiping spills and stains while they're fresh and sweeping the floor after dinner is cleaned up. I would also add doing a load of laundry, but that's just me. The picking up clutter one amuses me the most: we are instructed to scan a room every time we enter it, look for things that are out of place, and put them in their places immediately. (Okay, I guess I could do that) But here's the kicker: insist everyone in your house do the same.

Stop laughing. Seriously. Now.

My children have never met Martha Stewart, so they do not know they should fear her. Nor has Ms. Stewart ever met my children. And she has only one daughter, who by all accounts is nearly as perfect as her mother. So, in short, Ms. Stewart has never encountered a room resembling an exploded Lego factory, TBall equipment that seems to roam the house of its own accord, school supplies, coloring books, crayons, Bakugan, books, and other assorted crap that accumulates in my house. I have this sneaking suspicion that Ms. Stewart's daughter had tea with her dolly queen and made scones out of organic imagination. So, while theoretically picking up a room every time I walk into it seems like a good idea, it also seems, you know, theoretical.

Another one of my favorite 'homekeeping sites,' flylady.net suggests that every day I have a gleaming kitchen sink. Her rationale is that a clean sink will deter me from letting dishes pile up, give the kitchen an overall impression of clean and order. In fact, she posts 31 Baby Steps to achieve cleanliness in your house in one month, putting an end to "CHAOS: Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome." These baby steps include keeping a control journal, picking out the next day's clothes before bed, cleaning one area intensely for two minutes, and establishing a day's order to help make every task small so that all the jobs don't morph into one overwhelming episode of reality TV about hoarding.

Before I proceed, I'd like to address the vocabulary from these expert house minders: "homekeeping" "control journal." Homekeeping? Really, Martha? Living in the Hamptons with designer velvet furnishings and white carpeting is homekeeping. Trying to keep two domestic terrorists from turning the whole house upside down every day is sustainable living: as in, I try to sustain living every day.
In the end, I should be, it appears, spending more time on homekeeping than I actually do. Which is alarming, because I spend (it seems) an awful lot of time homekeeping. How could I ever do my six daily things from Martha, my 31 Baby Steps to a zen house from flylady, make a 30 minute meal from Rachael Ray, follow my Your Baby Can Read instructions, train my dog to not run out an open door like the Dog Whisperer, domesticate my children with the help of Super Nanny, find out what books to read from Oprah, landscape my backyard like Ty Pennington and still have time to watch my beloved Bones?

To quote another TV nugget of advice: CALGON, TAKE ME AWAY!

This morning when the tilers came to demolish my existing tile, they had to remove the toilet, the washer, the dryer, the dishwasher, the trash compactor, the refrigerator, and the stove. So, you know, nothing I use or anything. While those major appliances were out of commission and away from the walls, I thought, "I bet Martha Stewart has advice for the maintenance of these things. I bet I can clean them and prepare them to be put back to work even better than before."

I was thinking about vacuuming dryer vents, refrigerator coils, wiping down areas never exposed to my sight.

When they pulled the refrigerator away from the wall, I thought I would cry. There was matted, dusty, dingy....fur?....that most closely resembled road kill. And not small road kill, either. Like big, dead, well-fed raccoons. These were not your ordinary dustbunnies. These were dusthares. On steroids. My vacuum choked and sputtered and had to be emptied every other minute.

And the worst part was, I kept thinking, my house is clean. It is. It's swept, vacuumed and mopped 3 times a week. My house is clean. I run dishes. I run the laundry. My house is clean. I clean out the pantry. I sort through the trash. I don't let piles of crap grow and grow. And yet. There I was. On my hands and knees, wrestling with dustbunnies bigger than Clooney under the fridge.

The dirt is here. I have seen the heretofore invisible enemy. And it scares me.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Brent Musberger Must Retire

There's Fresh Cinnamon at Stage of Life!
http://www.stageoflife.com/StageRaisingaFamily.aspx

Feeling your age? Loving college Football? Think Kirk Herbstreit is hot? This blog's for you!
Hey baby, I want to know, if you'll be my girl?

Monday, June 22, 2009

Fresh Cinnamon

Today's fresh cinnamon is on stageoflife.com! To explore stage of life, read today's post, and learn/shop/explore the site, click on the link:

http://www.stageoflife.com/Default.aspx?tabid=116&g=posts&t=162

Thanks for supporting notcinnamon as always, and for your new support for stage of life.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Fresh Cinnamon

Today's fresh cinnamon is on stageoflife.com! To explore stage of life, read today's post, and learn/shop/explore the site, click on the link:

http://www.stageoflife.com/StageHomeOwnership.aspx

Today's entry is Unfulfilled Desire.
Thanks for your support, as always.