Friday, October 20, 2006

These gay strippers are ruining my life


When Jack’s parents bought JJ this trio of dolls, I was delighted. For one thing, the fact that they bought dolls for our boy (and removed all the guns from the package before giving them to him) was unusually enlightened for them. And the dolls themselves! Okay, they’re not exactly Barbies, but they are clearly gay strippers, complete with Velcro fastenings on their manly clothing. We immediately christened them the Hot Cops and wasted hours playing with them.

JJ could not have cared less about them, incidentally.

But now The Peanut has developed an unhealthy fascination with the Hot Cops. Specifically, she is obsessed with taking off their boots and putting them back on. She can’t quite manage it, however, and gets completely worked up and hysterical about the whole business. Consequently, I spend a ridiculous amount of time taking those goddamn boots off and putting them back on.

She also loves putting their hats on, a task that is quite impossible even for me because their plastic hair is so enormous.

So now our peaceful household is frequently shattered by frustrated cries of “DEET!” (meaning feet/boots/help me get these fuckers on and off) and “DAT!” (meaning hat/gigantic hair/why oh why can I not get this stupid hat on over this gay stripper’s gigantic hairdo).

The Hot Cops have got to go.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Hold me closer, set me free

I’ve been having a hard time lately. I guess I’m depressed, but maybe I’m just burned out. I feel like I need a break, but then when I think of getting away, I get panicky. Sometimes I want nothing more than to extricate myself from the sticky embraces of my children, but then when I’m away from them for even a few minutes, I miss them so much I can hardly breathe.

I know a break for me would benefit all of us. The last time I went out without the kids was almost a month ago. A friend took me out to lunch followed by a visit to the communal baths at Kabuki Springs and Spa. My friend’s husband and children met up with Jack, JJ, and The Peanut, so I knew that everyone was having a great time in my absence. Nevertheless, as soon as I started driving away from our house, I felt a wave of sadness crash over me. And even though I spent a relaxing afternoon in the company of someone I really like, I couldn’t wait to see Jack and the kids.

But that’s exactly what I needed. When I got home, I got the full-on rock star greeting that Jack gets every evening when he gets back from work. I hugged and kissed everyone as if I’d been gone for a month. I played with the kids, read them books, and put them to bed without feeling resentful or taxed. Then I snuggled in with Jack and thoroughly enjoyed just being at home. And this feeling of goodwill and happiness lasted all through the next day. I was able to be present in a way that I often am not: instead of watching the clock, I savored each moment for what it was. Even the most mundane of tasks seemed joyful. The children definitely picked up on my mood: both were perfectly behaved and delightful all day long.

So why do I find it so hard to take time out for myself? This weekend I’d decided I was going to attend a yoga class for the first time in over a year. I’d been looking forward to it for days. But at the last minute, I bailed. Jack was making pancakes, everyone was still in their jammies, and the house seemed so warm and cozy. Even though I knew that I’d come back from class feeling refreshed and energized, I couldn’t bring myself to walk out the door.

I think I need someone to kick my ass a little. I need someone to remind me that when I take time for myself, I’m a better mother, a better wife, and a better me.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Time to lay off those nature programs

Conversation in the car on the way home from school:


JJ: I was a chameleon today at school.

Me: I know, I saw you.

JJ: I was a male chameleon.

Me: Oh, really?

JJ: Yes. See these bright colors? This is how I attract females.

Me: Oh?

JJ: I mated with two females today.

Me: …. Oh. Really?

JJ: Yes. With E. and S.

So that’s what they were doing behind the playstructure.

Monday, October 02, 2006

This woman's work

I made my neighbor cry the other day.

I feel like such an insensitive jackass. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel bad, but I didn’t think about what I was saying before the words left my mouth. This seems to be happening a lot lately.

Our neighbors have two children almost the exact same ages as JJ and The Peanut. It would be the ideal situation for playdates and childcare swaps, but both parents work and the kids are in full-time daycare. We do get together often on weekends, though, and it’s nice to be able to spontaneously call each other up. Neither of our families is big on planning ahead, so we’re compatible in that way.

This weekend, the mother (I’ll call her R.) came over with her kids. We were talking about the home daycare in which both of her children were enrolled since they were babies. On her recommendation, I’ve been sending The Peanut there for a few hours one day a week so I can work at JJ’s preschool. The daycare is just a few blocks from our houses, and the woman who runs it (J.) is very competent, warm, and flexible. The Peanut, who has very strong opinions about everything and is a bit of a misanthrope, absolutely loves J. and has a great time at her house.

But lately R. has been worried about her son. Apparently, J. told R. that her son has been biting the other kids. I was surprised to hear this because JJ and I always hang out for a long time when we pick The Peanut up from J.’s house, and I’ve never seen any indication of aggression on R.’s son’s part. In fact, almost every time I visit, R.’s son is either being picked on by the other kids or he’s sobbing. I mentioned this to R., and she burst into tears. “I just can’t bear for him to be unhappy,” she cried.

I realize this isn’t my fault. R. has every right to know that her son isn’t happy in his daycare situation, but maybe I should have been more tactful about it. R. has a very high-powered career, and a recent promotion has meant longer hours and a hell of a lot of travel. For some reason, it never occurred to me that she might feel bad about this. I know she adores her kids, but I also know that she’s not someone who would be happy staying home with them. And I always thought she was okay with what that meant: that her children spend a lot of time in the care of other people.

If you told me 10 years ago that I would be a stay-at-home mother, I would have laughed in your face. I never thought I wanted children, period. It was a big shock to realize that I would do anything to stay home with my kids. I know I’m not the world’s best mother—far from it—but if I’m going to fuck up my kids, I want to do it my way.

Every woman gets to make her own choices. There’s no “right way” to live your life or raise your kids. If a woman is unhappy staying at home, her children are going to suffer the effects of her resentment and bitterness. Of course, not every family gets to choose; these days, staying home with your kids is a luxury. But those of us who are lucky enough to have options have to weigh them carefully.

I don’t want R. to think that I’m judging her. Hell, she’s the major breadwinner in their family, so if anyone should stay home with the kids, it’s her husband. But there’s no “should” about it, and that’s what I hope she understands.