I just need a break.

I've spent the last 2 weeks in severe pain. Have been to multiple doctors, even the ER, and no one seems to know what's causing it. We're trying to decide if we need another ER visit tonight. My doctor's out of town on vacation, and I'm not sure I can stand the pain until he gets back.

I'm just so tired of being in pain. And what are these doctors thinking when they tell me to rest? I have two kids for pete's sake.

Inane Children's Shows

Why do children's programmers assume their shows need to be sugary and inane to keep a kid's imagination? It's for this reason that the entire Barney dynasty is banned from my house. Purple dinosaurs rank up there with Chris Farley on my annoyance spectrum.

By far the worst offenders are Christian children's shows. Having worked for a Christian publisher, I saw more poorly-produced shows than I'd like to admit. Cheesy accents, enormous mis-matched mustaches, over-pronounced words, and perky songs about nothing. Throw in a puppet and you've got yourself a best-seller.

The only Christian children's show I can bear to sit through is Veggie Tales. Smartly written, there are often jokes aimed just at the parents. It's obviously still geared towards kids, but it's not nearly as obnoxious as other offerings. Kids can learn from shows without hyper-color cheesiness. Don't insult their intelligence.

Just Because It's Not a Law, Doesn't Make it OK.

They recently made it a law that you can't send text messages while driving. I think it's a good law, since common sense no longer prevails in our society. Not to mention the nearly illegible texts I was getting from a certain friend of mine. But it did make me wonder what other activities they'll outlaw while driving...

- No lighting cigarettes

- No changing the radio station

- No telling stories about your crazy mother-in-law

- No reaching around behind you to grab the leg of the kid who's been kicking.kicking.kicking your chair for the last 17.5 miles

I'll admit to being guilty of doing things while driving that aren't entirely necessary. Usually I'll wait till a stoplight... especially if it's something I should concentrate on, like applying mascara. But I've seen people do some pretty gross things while driving. Dear people... do you not realize that the same technology that allows you to see OUT your windows, lets us see IN them?

We've all seen other drivers pick their noses. I've also seen people floss their teeth, brush their teeth, curl their hair with a curling iron, shave their beards, and apply various forms of makeup. But by far the oddest thing I've seen was a woman who was Ped-Egging her feet while driving! Distraction aside, can you imagine the mess that made in her car?

What's next, bikini waxes?

Where's My Helmet?

Having a two-year-old is kind of like having an angry NFL linebacker on steroids in a 30-lb body. Except you don't get the benefit of a helmet and pads.

Squish will get so filled with rage, she does this little dance... which I've aptly named the Rage Dance. She stands in place and waves her arms and stomps her feet and makes a sound like a volcano about to erupt. Why so much anger? Because I wouldn't let her have another bag of fruit snacks. Or Bean looked at her. Or the dog was within 2 miles of her while she was eating. At the height of her frustration, she refuses to talk, which just exacerbates the situation. So I'm trying to teach her to take a deep breath and "use her words." Right now she categorizes every problem as "WANT!!!" or "DON'T WANT!!!" Which is just so helpful.

Everything pisses her off right now. The wind blows her hair, and she's mad. The TV's too loud/too quiet/not a show she likes... and she's mad. Her juice has too much water in it (I'm a 50/50 water-downer), and she turns green and rips her shirt off.

I'm convinced children get PMS. I don't care what they say about hormones not kicking in for several years yet. MINE GETS PMS. And oddly enough, the cure is the same. A little chocolate, a bubble bath, and as little contact with other humans as possible.

After spending all day with my little tyrant, I have to remember to use my manners. When my adult friend is slow walking to the car, I should probably refrain from shrieking "CAR! NOW!" And when I go get a much-deserved coffee, I may not want to stomp my feet and holler "WANT LATTE! WANT LATTE!" and then dissolve into tears on the floor of Starbucks.

Although, who knows... maybe they'd throw in a free biscotti.

They're Not Crazy... They're Moms

You know those people you see walking along the sidewalk, muttering to themselves? They're not crazy. They're moms. Only moms deal with apparently deaf people who are hell-bent on doing what they want, no matter what the consequences. It's enough to make you shuffle along a sidewalk and argue with yourself.

Right now I'm dealing with a tyrant of a 2 year old. I spend every day locked in a battle of the wills. I think I'm winning. But I will let you know for sure when I see what nursing home they finally put me in. Today it was over whether or not she was going to eat breakfast. I tried begging, teasing, bargaining, making it fun, guilt trips (hey, I was raised Catholic... I can guilt trip with the best of them)... and finally decided that with the amount of chub my little Squish has been blessed with, she will not starve any time soon.

Bean seems to be suffering from hearing loss. I literally screamed "SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS!" for about 2 minutes straight this morning in a pathetic attempt to get her to school on time. Just once I would like her to look like she's not a third world poster child. For 35 cents a day, you can give this poor child socks!

I'm fairly certain NONE of my other jobs were this hard. I don't remember having to work this hard to get a report out of a manager. "Come on, Mr. Brown.... who's my favorite manager? Give me the report and I'll let you take a long lunch!" Or yelling at my staff when I needed their articles for a deadline... "ARTICLE! ARTICLE! ARTICLE!"

I need a paid leave of absence.

What is strength?

Recently, we had one of those weekends that really tests you as a person.

My mom almost died. She had a medical condition she wasn't aware of, and was rushed into emergency surgery. I got the news while in the middle of shooting a portrait session. There's nothing like talking to your mom before surgery, and knowing it may be the last time you talk, and then putting on your game face for a client. I've now taken care of clients while having an ovarian cyst rupture, while having a miscarriage, and while worrying about my mom in emergency surgery.

We also found out that due to a banking error, we bounced several checks and had to pay all of the attached fines. We were thankfully able to borrow money to cover it until our other funds were accessible on the next business day. But we then had a list of calls to make to straighten out the bounced checks.

My oldest daughter, Bean, developed an infection in one of her lymph nodes. She had a golf ball-sized lump on the side of her neck. After being assured she was NOT contagious, she spent the night with some friends. Only to find out the next day she had strep throat and had most likely infected all of her friends. I spent the next several days trying to limit Bean and Squish's interactions with each other. Not easy with a 2-year-old. Squish thankfully didn't get it from her, but BigGuy did.

In the same weekend, I also got guilt trips from well-meaning relatives about areas of my life that they don't agree with. Said relatives tend to forget that I'm an adult and am fully capable of deciding what's right for me. They made some wild assumptions about what's going on in my life, based on very little accurate information. The kind of assumptions and judgments that make you want to move very far away and forget you even HAVE relatives.

With all of this stress, my medical condition flared up. I was unable to walk without assistance, and had intense pain. Frustrated with everything happening around me, and my lack of physical strength, I broke down and cried. I don't like feeling weak.

Then I tried to take a step back and analyze my situation better. If I was talking to a girlfriend going through the same things, I would have been amazed at her strength. I would have encouraged her that she was doing a better job than she realized. So even if I don't have the kind of strength I want, in some ways I'm stronger than I give myself credit for.

The Grapevine Has Gone Digital

Like most people, I grew up with an extended family that had its fair share of dysfunction. We had people we were close to, people we disowned, and people we were close to that we wish we could disown.

All kidding aside, I've always felt lucky to be close to my cousins on one side of my family. Unfortunately the occasional case of sibling rivalry will rear its ugly head. Through most of our adolescent years, my one aunt would compare her daughter and me all the time. While this was a completely one-sided affair (my mom really didn't care), we still got bombarded with news. My cousin developed a chest first, had a boyfriend first, yadda yadda yadda. Meanwhile, I was plodding my way through geekdom, hoping I would "blossom" one day. We always joked that this particular aunt was the family Grapevine. If you wanted to know the news, just call her.

Enter Facebook. Now you can tell the world what you're doing in short little blurbs, or incriminating photos. Said aunt has joined Facebook, and was using everyone's updates to try to "scoop" my mom on the family news. When BigGuy got laid off, he posted it in his Facebook status. A few minutes later, my aunt called my mom to ask her if she knew BigGuy had been laid off. At another point she made up some story about me, using information from several months ago. It was just getting odd.

So at what point do you cut off communication? There are things I want to share with my friends, but I don't want them being used against me. I don't want to feel like I have to censor myself for fear it will work its way back to my mom in some twisted form. I was starting to feel like I was being spied on or something.

Last week someone hacked my Facebook and email accounts. Facebook closed my account until it was taken care of... for about a week. Talk about withdrawals! When it came back up, a few of my friends had disappeared. And I must say I was relieved that my aunt was one of them. Sometimes you just need a little less grapevine.

Mommy Nazis

We all know them. Some of us may actually be them. Mommy Nazis.

These are the moms who are intent on making every other mom feel insecure about her parenting skills. Who sneer down their nose at your garage-sale-find stroller because it doesn't have the right name on it. Who are horrified that you don't buy organic food for your baby, let alone that you don't make it from scratch. Her child is learning Mandarin, while mine learns Spanish from Dora and Handy Manny.

Why do we do this to each other? When will we accept that there is no right way and no wrong way to raise a child? That as long as the kid is happy and healthy and safe... it's perfectly alright for them to play at the park without 2 gallons of antibacterial lotion being involved.

Unfortunately, I think we'll always be at war. The Stay-At-Home-Moms (SAHM) versus the Working Moms. The Breastfeeders versus the Formula Feeders. The ones who let their kids watch TV, versus the ones who would never dream of it.

I recently had someone tell me I could never do a fantastic job of parenting because I work from home. Therefore I can't give 100% of my attention to my children at all times. My question is this... what is this mother preparing her children for? When these kids go to school, and the teacher has to divide her attention between 25 children... will there be a meltdown? But this M.N. is in the bully category... she can do no wrong, in her eyes. So I just went on my way, and tried to put it out of my mind. Add it to the list of fears I have as a mom... that I'm somehow depriving them of a normal childhood because I choose to work.

When are you having another?

Let's talk about this ladies. Pretty much from the moment Squish slid out, we've been getting this question. Part of me takes it as a compliment... that people like our children enough to want us to keep reproducing. But part of me wants to tell them we'll have another when they can pay for its college education. I usually settle for a much more friendly and enigmatic "well, we'll see."

I love my girls. They make me so happy, and I'm proud of the little people they are becoming. There's not a day that goes by that I don't get some sweet snuggle time with Squish, and hear Bean tell me she loves me.

But some days I would trade them in for a new Corvette and 5 minutes of peace. I may or may not have recently chased BigGuy with a pair of scissors and demanded that he drop his pants so we could make SURE we wouldn't have any more children. Does this change when you add to the brood? Does it get worse? Or do you just adjust to a new level of crazy?

I watch my friends with 4+ children, and it scares me. All of them are in dire need of a long massage and a dinner where they don't have to cut anyone's food. I also don't want to be an old mom. I envision myself at 50, still covered in spit-up and finger paints, still spelling the words I don't want to hear repeated in front of my mother.

I recently had a stranger compliment my girls' behavior in a store. I had one of those brief shining moments where you feel like all your hard work has paid off. I felt a uterine twinge as I contemplated whether we should grace the world with another one of our stellar children. And then, with a sigh, I pulled Bean's finger from her nose, and reminded Squish AGAIN not to chew on the shopping cart. Maybe we'll get another dog.

Don't Touch Me

I feel bad for BigGuy today. I was in the shower, and he reached around the curtain to give my backside a squeeze. "Get out!" I snapped. He was hurt. So I had to explain to him that showers are the only time I have where no one is touching me. No little person is clinging to me and demanding snacks/juice/one.more.episode.of.Dora.the.Explorer. Does this make me a bad wife?