First Things First

This post must be written before the one about my gorgeous new baby so these thoughts won't contaminate his loveliness.  Let me preface this by saying that I love my mother and I very much appreciate her coming down here to help before, during, and after the baby was born.

BUT

I'm still bitching about all the things that she screwed up while she was here.  I was going to let this go, but I just opened the package of onsies she bought for Minnow and I can't contain it any longer.  

The Kitchen:

She does not rinse the dishes before she puts them in the dishwasher.  My dishes don't get clean.  She puts them away DIRTY.  Then, I have to inspect each thing she put away and put at least half of it back in the sink so SOAK and then be washed again.  I love when people do my dishes for me; except her.  And she will do them even if I tell her not to.  There is no stopping her.  Also, she puts things away in the wrong places.  Bowls with the tupperware, serving spoons with regular ones, cookie sheets with pots and pans.  It's just really frustrating.

The Laundry:

When Wednesday was born my mother did at least 10 loads of laundry in the time she was at my house.  Not one of those loads was actually dried all the way.  But she folded those damp clothes and piled them on our bed.  So when I got home from the hospital I had a bed full of mildew-smelling clothes that I could neither wash or fold by myself.  My husband had steam coming out of his ears.  This time, she did less laundry, but succeeded in DESTROYING the Big Brother shirts I HANDMADE for Winston and Wednesday.  Like hand-sewn patches, hand lettering, iron-ons.  They are ruined, and I'll have to re-do them now.  The other laundry she did was, of course, not dried all the way.  I managed to rescue it from her clutches right after getting home from the hospital.  Lastly, she bought the baby an outfit he already had, in the same exact size, and would not take it back.  And the onsies she bought??  They say "I am the boss", and "It's all about me".  NO, MOTHER.  NO.  Good golly, Miss Molly.

The Children:

After being with her for any amount of time they were like demons on crack.  They were rude, mean, and did not listen to anything that my husband or I said.  This was not a helpful occurrence with a newborn in the house.  We had two of the worst mornings ever in the history of our family as a result of morning visits from my mother (my Dad was here too.  But I don't have anything bad to say about him.  He follows my rules, is calm when the boys need him to be, and cooked dinner for us).  Just GAH.

Me:

She kept trying to be all lovey with me.  I don't do lovey with my mother because she takes it WAY overboard.  I tried not to grimace and flinch, but it was really difficult.

The Hospital:

The morning we were going to the hospital after taking the boys to school, my Dad called her about 6:30 to make sure she was awake.  She told him we were all still sleeping and that she didn't need to get up.  She didn't get up until 7:45 when we needed to leave by 8:15.  AND she went to get ready just as my husband was walking to the bathroom.  We were so close to being late for everything because of her.  Both times my obgyn came into my hospital room during my stay my mother my snoring like a dying elephant on the couch bed.  I was already up and dressed and my mother is laying on the couch snoring so loud that the nurses kept looking at her like, "Shut UP, Woman!".  It was embarrassing.

There are a lot of other things.  But that's enough that I feel cleansed and better now.  Thanks for letting this be a ranting place.  Once again, I'm glad she was here, even if it was hard to put up with.  We couldn't have gotten me in and out of the hospital without her.  

Baby Boy's Bloggy Badge

So, I have narrowed it down to two options for the soon to be born Little Mister's blog name.  I have a favorite, but I wanna know what y'all think first!  Let me know which one fits with the other boy names in the comments if you wanna...

1.  Woods:  Implies nature, has the descending syllable thing with the other boys names (Winston, Wednesday, and Woods).  Plus, it's a slight play on the origin of the baby's real name.

2.  Minnow:  This was kind of hubby's idea.  Instead of having 3 W's, flip the third one upside-down to make an M name.  This one ends in a W though, so the flow is good.  Also, it's funny to think of this guy as Minnow when he appears to be so HUGE.  Adorable word as well!

So, whatcha fink?

School Rules

When the last session of summer camp started after a two week break this year, I was overwhelmed with how sad I felt.  It wasn't the reaction I expected from myself, especially when you consider what a handful Winston (and Winston and I together) had been during camp's intermission.  But there I was, bawling my eyes out, clinging to the boys and wondering why in the hell I paid for more camp when it felt so wrong to send them again.

That singular reaction started a thought process that I'd been trying to avoid for at least 2 years:  Homeschooling.  Suddenly, I felt like maybe there was a reason why I gravitate toward blogs written by homeschoolers, and why I enjoy planning learning activities so much.  Having been bogged down in a constant struggle with him, a method of reconnecting with Winston in a meaningful way that we both thrive on was an imminent option.  Storytime, during projects, and planned activities were our only saving graces during most of the summer.  Would homeschooling allow those peaceful times to expand and improve our relationship?  Also, keeping Wednesday home and teaching him things in a setting where he felt comfortable, instead of him weeping at school drop off, came as a welcome relief, even if it's not quite time yet.

So I got on Amazon until the wee hours of the morning and searched through books.  Then I went to the library, list in hand, and checked out everything I could on homeschooling.  I started reading, and encountered far more positives than negatives in the books I'd found.  There was only one instance when I just couldn't finish a section for the principle of it.

Then one day, I happened to be on Facebook when my former voice teacher mentioned spending the afternoon doing math with her 7 year old.  Remembering that my mother had said she was homeschooling I sent her a message almost immediately.  Was she homeschooling?  Yes.  Could I talk with her about it and ask questions?  Sure!

It was fantastic.  Someone I knew as a teacher and friend had already been teaching her boys at home for three years.  I asked her everything I could think of, kept reading, and then asked more questions.  What did her typical day look like?  How did she teach part-time and homeschool simultaneously?  What method did she use?  Curriculum?  EVERYTHING.

I looked up everything she said online and had another brain flash:  One of my best friends from High School was homeschooled until she was a freshmen!  Again, I very quickly sent her a message and hoped for the best.  I wanted her impression now, of how being taught at home affected her.  She responded right back, and had nothing but excellent things to say about her experience.  As one of the most artistic, creative, and expressive people I know, this was very exciting.

But as this break between the end of camp and the start of school stretched on, I got nervous.  Winston loves school, and is in a very good environment right now.  Could I really take him out of there and provide something even better?  I had just started to think that maybe I was getting in over my head when I woke up in a panic Monday night.

There was a meeting for the parents at the boys school Tuesday evening.  The bubble of our experimental "homeschooling" learning (I want to tell you more about this, I even have pictures!) was coming to a close, and school was about to start.  I went to the meeting and left feeling pretty heart-broken.  Hearing everything through my newly educated ears was so sad and worrisome.  The main focus of the directors entire speech was money and not being late.  As I sat reading, I saw that they even included the states guidelines for "healthy" lunches in the handbook!  As a parent, I am already following Kosher rules (for the school), my own families dietary needs (husband is diabetic), and keeping in mind any food allergies that may be present in the boys' classroom.  Please don't tell me them, to include "healthy soups" in lunches when there is a very clearly stated rule that they won't reheat anything for longer than a minute.

Sigh...

On top of all of that, the new director repeated to all of us that she'd had to reassure some parents that the could pick their children up early or only send them three days a week.  This was really disturbing to me.  We are talking about pre-school.  It's not required, and we're paying for our kids to be there.  Of COURSE we can pick up our kids early and send them when we deem appropriate!  

Winston's teachers were awesome.  They're well certified, in love with their jobs, and eager to teach.  The assistant is actually my preferred person for him, but the main teacher worked with him last year quite a bit when one of his teacher's hurt her arm.  But there was one thing that the head teacher said that just ruffled my feathers like nothing else.  She mentioned wanting a better play kitchen for her classroom, and then that she wanted to make the little house next to it into a doll house.  Up to here it was all fine.  Then she said "for the girls".  The kitchen, dress-up clothes, and house were "for the girls", while the carpet with roads on it (!!!  not exactly exciting) and the train table were "for the boys".  I think she must have gotten a look from more than one of us because she corrected herself and called it "dramatic play".  This may not seem like a big deal, but Gosh Darnit if I haven't worked for my boys entire lives to teach them that it is ok to play however you want to.  If you want to dress up?  Then do it!  If you want to imagine you're a chef, or cooking dinner, or changing a diaper, or a dancer then you are more than welcome.  ...It just really ticked me off.  I'm not interested in gender stereotypes AT ALL.  My boys have trucks and wagons and trains and super hero toys, but they also have a play kitchen, a tea set, a baby sling, and dress-up clothes.

I'm going to send them this year, even though Wednesday weeps every time I mention it.  He'll get two weeks to settle in and adjust.  After that, if the crying continues I'm just pulling him out.   I'm going to pick them both up before lunch everyday, and after nap, we are going to learn something fun everyday with Mama.  Because when next year comes around, I think we're staying home.

I have a lot more that I'd like to write about when it comes to this decision, what others might think about our family, etc.  So if y'all don't mind reading it I'd love to keep going in another post!

He Dreamed a Dream

Wednesday, right now this morning, as best I can recall:

"There was a FishLady and a GirlPapa and da GirlPapa bit me right dey onna arm (points to his forearm above his wrist)!!"  He bit you?  "Yes he bit me right dey, and I screamed like this:  ahhh (very quiet scream)".  Like that?  "No, like this!  AHHHHHH!!!!"  Oh My, and what else happened?  "And the GirlPapa was mean!  And dey put da fish back in!" They did?  Where did the fish come from?  "Da FishLady's neck!"  The fish came out of the fish lady's neck and they put it back in?  "Yeah!  Right dey (points to the front of his neck)!"  What else happened?  "And the GirlPapa went back to his blue stuff, and the bite came off!"  

And then right now, he walked up and added:

"On the wall in my dream there was a mean song, it was a biting song!"

I don't ever remember Winston articulating a dream so clearly, and that was completely unprompted.  He just walked up to us, after loving on his cat, and told us all of that very animatedly...  

"I had a dream last night, and it looked just like a dream" -Gibby Haynes 

Right Now

I am officially 4 years younger than the Happy Meal this year, and as always, 2 years younger, to the day, than MTV.

In 55 days I'll be the mother of three boys and last week my husband asked me if there was a Baskin Robbins in town.

Last night, he brought home an ice cream cake with "26" piped in crooked numbers on the front.

It's butter pecan flavor, which just happens to be my MIL's favorite. Maybe the pilfering was for a reason.

This morning, a new pink camera made it's way into my hands. The beach is forthcoming as well, and now I don't have to make my own cake.

14 MP, 5X zoom, hopefully some friends, a cranky 4 year old, a chirpy 2 year old, and a husband I cannot imagine life without.

Thank you...

The days before

Last night, while pilfering the ice cream I'd bought for tomorrow, The Mr. told me, "It's not even close to your birthday yet".  How dumb of me to buy ice cream two days before so we could take it to his mother's house.  I even got HER favorite kind.  I bought cake mix and frosting too, because Winston especially expects for their to be cake when it's someone's birthday.  On the frozen foods aisle Wednesday looked at me and said, "I want to come wif you to your birfday, Mommy."  My birthday is just at home this year.

That's perfectly fine with me.  I have issues with my own birthday anyway.  We lost our first baby a month before the biggest birthday celebration I've ever had (Vegas!), and got pregnant with Winston less than 2 weeks later.  Maybe that's why it seems so insignificant.  I didn't really begin until Winston was conceived and born.  It just feels wrong to celebrate too much the person I was before they all came.

Last year, much to my surprise, my husband went all out again.  I used my spa gift certificate, we took a surprise shopping trip to Houston so I could buy some new clothes for myself.  I was shocked, and it took me a long time to process that it was for me.  I dunno...

It just feels weird, I guess.  My mom always texts me at the time I was born, and that means the world to me.  

When you're small, your birthday is so very important.  I want it to feel that way to my boys, and even though he's grown, to my husband.  Even my Mom, who was born on Halloween, gets everything I can possibly create to make her feel special.

I don't know how to feel special on my birthday without feeling guilty.

Yesterday, I hung wash on the line that the woman who sold our house left behind.  I made my Grandmothers' brisket and purple hull peas form the farmers' market.  We listened to my brother's band all day in the van, and I remembered my cloth bags for the grocery store.  

That was all pretty damn magical in one afternoon.  That was enough....  And I'm ok with that.

Finkin' Bout

I know, two posts all smooshed up together, but if I don't do it now then I won't get it done.  This is just a list anyway!

The Things in My Brain:

1.  Homeschooling:  So many of the parenting blogs I read are actually homeschoolers.  I've checked out books from the library but I'm still conflicted.  Do y'all have any thoughts before I do a whole post on this?

2.  Activities:  When do I start the boys in things outside of school?  Scouts?  Soccer?  Fencing (so cool)  Martial Arts?  Music Lessons (high on the list)?

3.  Composting:  Do any of you compost?  I know it's supposed to be easy.  we could have a separate garbage can in the kitchen, and there is a place for the actual composting can behind the garage.  Is it going to attract bugs?  Because I can't be carrying a baby in a sling to take out the food for composting and be attacked my bugs.  (Yes, I did lay awake one night thinking about that)

4.  A Texas Blogging Meet-up:  Swistle talked about an anti-Blogher meet up, and now that I know I can't go to Blogher in NYC next year, would this be something worth doing?  EDITED TO ADD:  Danielle from Left of Lost was my bravery inducing inspiration.