Parental Musings | Teeny Manolo - Part 3

Archive for the 'Parental Musings' Category

And Then I Stubbed My Toe

Thursday, April 26th, 2012
By Glinda

Parenting is hard, y’all.

Today was one of those days when the end of the day sees me wanting to run down the block tearing my clothes off and screaming.  Well, perhaps not the clothing part, but definitely the screaming.  Or taking an endless shower where the hot water never runs out and I don’t get tired of standing there.

It was one of those days where it seemed like nothing got done, nobody was happy, and I kept trying to contact people that I needed to contact and I was completely out of luck.

We recently took my daughter to a speech evaluation because along with her (improving, thank jebus) sleep situation, is also not much of a talker.  Well, it seems the speech therapist agrees with our concerns and she has officially been diagnosed with a speech delay.  She was given a “good” prognosis, although I wondered to myself why it wasn’t “excellent.”  Do they even give excellent ones anymore, or is that too optimistic for our lawsuit-happy society?

The fun times never end.

Has anyone else gone through a speech delay diagnosis?  I am a bit out of my depth on this one, although the one thing I am great at is being an advocate for my children’s well being, so I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it soon enough.  There was so much medical jargon in the evaluation that I’ve asked for clarification on some points.  I’ve swanned my way through Dostoyevsky, but this report was too much for me.

I’ve not mentioned my daughter’s speech problems before on this blog because I was almost ashamed to admit that she had a problem.  I’ve got a gifted son, but my daughter can’t speak?  It sounds weird to me, and I’ve had a hard time wrapping my  head around it.  But I’ve come to realize that there is nothing for anyone to be ashamed of, that early intervention will be key to her future success, and the prognosis WILL be excellent, damnit.

Keep the Formula

Thursday, April 12th, 2012
By Glinda

As a mother of two who had a HORRIBLE time producing breastmilk despite trying like the dickens, I’m not pleased that there is a group asking all hospitals to forgo giving new mothers free samples of formula.

If I hadn’t had those sample bottles, both of my children would have gone very hungry in those first few weeks.  My son didn’t want to latch on at all (despite the help of a lactation consultant) and my daughter might have been a good latcher, but I’ll never know because I had a hell of a recovery from my C-section.  She did fine in the hospital, but once I got home, I could barely move, much less get in any type of optimal breastfeeding position.

After three months of trying to get my son to breastfeed and pumping, my milk supply, which was never great to begin with, dried up completely.  We now know that it was most likely due to undiagnosed hypothyroidism, but who woulda thunk?  Instead I felt like a huge failure.

For my daughter, I bought into the whole guilty breastfeeding is best thing, and I chose to pump for a full nine months, which was probably a big mistake.  Waking up every three hours at night when all you want is to grab as much sleep as possible probably turned me into a horrible mother.   And even though I was on medication to alleviate the hypothyroid symptoms, I was never what you would call a champion at producing milk.   In fact, the last few months saw me supplementing with both previously frozen milk and formula, despite spending a lot of time being hooked up to the pump.

I think that if you can breastfeed, you are entitled to embrace it as fully as you like.  Go ahead, pop the girls out in public when needed!  I support your right to breastfeed! But I also think that there are circumstances where breastfeeding exclusively is just too much for some women (read: many working moms) and the judgey-McJudgersons should shut it.

Sometimes It’s Hard Being the Adult

Wednesday, April 4th, 2012
By Glinda

Today was not a shining example of my best mothering.  In fact, it might rank amongst my top ten worsts.

Things that went through my mind today:

I now see why people run away to the circus.

Is my neighbor really trying to one-up my thyroid surgery with a self-inflicted gash to the hand while cutting pineapple? Really?

If I leave in the middle of the night, no one will see me.

Yeah, buddy, some days I wish you went to school, too.

How do you survive the day eating ONLY things made out of carbs?

Is division with remainders that complicated?

Can I join you on the floor in your temper tantrum? I bet I could scream louder than you.

But you used to LOVE pears!

I didn’t think anything could be more annoying than banging your head on the floor until you started spitting your food everywhere.

Be careful what you wish for.

Of course you allowed our daughter to touch the soil where the cats in the neighborhood have been pooping.  OF COURSE you couldn’t stop her in time.

Seriously, I KNOW I could cover my tracks well enough that nobdoy could find me.  



For the Whole World To See

Thursday, March 29th, 2012
By Glinda

For some reason, I only recently Google street-viewed my own home.  I mean, I know what my own house looks like, right? So I felt no urge to look at in on the internet.

But, lo and behold, what did my eyes see on my front lawn?

A bunch of crud that the Munchkin left out (he has a horrible habit of not picking up all of his outside toys, or maybe he was still playing with them for all I know) that makes our house look less than, ah, dignified.  Nope, that large neon yellow dump truck doesn’t stand out one bit!

Compare that to the pristine lawns of my neighbors, and it is clear that one of these things is not like the others.

Thanks, dude, thanks.

It’s a Long, Downhill Slide From Here on Out

Tuesday, March 20th, 2012
By Glinda

At least, that’s what I hear.

My nine year old son, though I love him dearly, has become a serious pain in the boot-ay. He doesn’t listen, he enjoys a bathroom humor a bit too much and at totally inappropriate times, has started talking back more, is maddeningly lazy, and is unable to interact with his sister without making her cry.


I’m told it’s fairly normal nine year old boy behavior, but I am already completely ready to sell him to the circus. OK, if they just offered to take him off my hands, I’d totally consider it.

I was talking to a friend of mine whose son just turned thirteen, and when I complained about the Munchkin (who is not so Munchkin-y anymore) she just laughed the hearty laugh of someone who knows that the worst is yet to come. For both of us.

We figured I’ve got at least ten years of frustration in store for me, and offered her bar-tending services should I ever need them.

Yeah, tomorrow sounds good.

What to Do When Your Toddler Locks Your Bedroom Door, In 17 Steps

Wednesday, February 22nd, 2012
By Glinda

1. Be angry.

2. Be momentarily glad that at least she didn’t lock herself in the room.

3. Banish the thought that at least you could have had some alone time if she had.

4. Be upset that she also closed the sliding glass door that you had previously opened and would have allowed access in less than one minute. IF she hadn’t closed it. And locked it, also.

5. Bemoan the fact that you do indeed have to use the bathroom sometimes.

6. Attempt to open door with credit card.

7. Be angry when it doesn’t work.

8. Be angry that you don’t have the key (and in fact, have never had the key to open the lock).

9. Attempt to open door with paper clip.

10.  Be really angry when that doesn’t work either.

11. Call your husband and calmly ask if he has any suggestions, scoff at the idea that waiting until 9pm for him to get home and open it is a good idea. This is specifically because this is the room said toddler needs to fall asleep in at 7pm.

12. Search the whole of the internets for various McGyver-y solutions, all of which fail miserably.

13.  After spending a solid hour and a half trying to unlock the door, give up.

14. Stop being angry because it really isn’t doing you any good.

15. Suddenly realize that there are such things as locksmiths and give one a call.

16. Be momentarily embarrassed that you have to borrow some cash from your nine year old.

17. Not regret spending $65.00 for the locksmith to take two minutes to open your door. Not even for a second.

To TV or Not to TV

Wednesday, February 15th, 2012
By Glinda

So my son wants a television in his room.

Never mind that we only have one television in the whole house. He seems to think that he deserves to have unlimited access to all of his favorite movies.

At least he is smart enough to realize that we would never allow him to have all the cable channels we have on our main TV, and has instead asked for the type of set that has a built-in DVD player. He would have to have a cable box to watch any regular television, and there is no way we are paying for that.

I have to say that part of me is tempted, and then there is another, louder part of me that says no way should a nine year old have a television in their room. Although I know many, many children that are both younger and older than him that do.

I wonder if I am getting soft in my old age. If my toddler is wearing me down so much that a request for a television doesn’t seem totally outlandish.

What say you about kids and televisions in their rooms?

I personally think it is bad enough that he stays up past his bedtime reading books.

I think it would break my heart if he took to watching television instead.

Does She Even Know Who She Is?

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012
By Glinda


I think I have called my daughter by her actual name less than twenty times in her entire (albeit so far brief) life.

I have a couple of nicknames, with one in particular being heavily used, and it isn’t a play on her name at all.

This is partly because I realize that the name we chose for her does not really fit her at all.  That is something I have no idea how to fix, and I blame my husband because I wanted to name her something that would have TOTALLY fit her personality but he vetoed it for NO GOOD REASON.  He says we can change her name and she would never know the difference, but that just seems wrong.

The problem is that when her relatives call her by her name and she doesn’t respond, they tend to get a worried look on their faces.   They ask me if she has a hearing problem, and does she always ignore people like that?  Well, yes she actually does ignore people like that, but it has nothing to do with her hearing.

I never really called the Munchkin by his real name either, though, and he seems to know what his name is.

Most of the time.


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