The Things We Do For Our Children...


Have you ever gone to great lengths to make you child happy? I'm talking about ridiculous, crazy lengths to give them what they so adorably ask for. Or maybe sometimes, not so adorably ask for, but so you don't have to hear the whining or crying or screaming. I'm sure you have. I have. We are moms. It's what we do. My son is most definitely spoiled. It's not his fault. He is our only one, will always be our only one, and the first grandchild on both sides. When I say spoiled, I mean he has a great wardrobe and lots of toys. My first Moncler came at age 32. His...age two. He's not in charge. Mommy and Daddy are. He sleeps in his own bed. We don't give in to tantrums. The bath happens whether he wants it to or not. If he doesn't like what's for dinner, too bad.

The toy of the moment for him is anything he can push or pull on wheels. He is obsessed with his suitcase. He wheels it around the family room and plays airplane. He grocery shops at home with his shopping cart. He mows the imaginary grass inside our house with his green turtle lawnmower. Plastic golf clubs in their carry bag aren't for playing golf. They are for wheeling back and forth in the kitchen. You can often see him walking around the house, suitcase in one hand, lawnmower in other. If it has wheels, he loves it. He wants it. He needs to push or pull it.

The new toy on wheels this month? Well it's not exactly a toy. The blue bucket on wheels you can shop with at Lowes. It's all he talks about. The kid has a one track mind. Most kids ask to go to the toy store. He asks to go to Lowes to push the bucket on wheels. "Mommy and Daddy, can I have a bucket on wheels? Can I have one at my house? Please?" He asked so nicely. No screaming, whining, or crying. Just please. I'm so proud of your manners buddy.

So last weekend, my husband suggests we just steal one from our neighborhood Lowes. I look at him in disbelief, not because I'm above doing this, but because I know he would never actually steal it. I tell him so and he doesn't deny it. So of course, Mommy volunteers to do the stealing. The plan is set. We will go to Lowes, buy a few things we actually do need, and put them in the bucket that our son will be wheeling around the store. Once we pay for everything, we will wheel the bucket out to the car and I will discretely place it in the trunk.

There is just one problem. As my son and I wheel the bucket to the car, the check out lady stops us, informing us that buckets cannot be taken outside. They set off an alarm. Ugh, damn it! My perfect plan has been foiled. My son immediately realizes the bucket will not be his and he starts wailing. "IT'S MINE! I WANT IT! NOOOOO! IT'S MINE!" As I try to explain that we can't take it home with us and will find another one, I try to pry his hands off the handle. Um, the kid has a death grip! It takes both my husband and me a good five minutes to free the bucket from his hands. Cue everyone at Lowes staring.

And of course, as parents, we are determined to see this through. We promised him a bucket on wheels and a bucket on wheels he shall have. We find one on Amazon and order it. Two days later, no package but an email cancelling the order because it's out of stock. Fuck! We keep searching. These things are not easy to find. We find two options. Both require us to order at least six buckets on wheels for about $200. We look at each other and are totally considering it. It is the only thing our child has asked for in a while and he said please. We are proud of his good manners. We are proud we have been able to at least teach him that!

Finally, after more searching my husband finds one online at Staples. I tell him to overnight that shit! It will be here next week. Every time a package arrives, my son thinks it's for him. He gets so excited. Then so upset when he realizes it's another pair of shoes for Mommy. But don't worry buddy, good things come to those who wait.

Yesterday's Activity: Nervous Breakdown


I think I had a nervous breakdown yesterday. Some of you will think I'm a baby. That this just comes with the territory of being a parent. But I'm not like you. I'm me. I love my son, but sometimes I don't want to be a mom. Like this is not what I signed up for. That's my truth. This is my struggle. Let me explain. My son is clearly getting ready to give up his afternoon nap. I'm so not on board with this. I am not ready. I look forward to those two - three hours in the afternoon. I need them. When I don't have them, I'm bitchy. Ask my husband, he will happily tell you! Lately, my son has been napping every few days. Of course the days he naps are the days our nanny comes. Little fucker! But we do quiet time. He has to stay in his room whether he sleeps or not. If he doesn't fall asleep, he usually hangs in his bed and looks at books. Sometimes, he gets out of bed and destroys his room. These are the afternoons I dread. Yesterday was one of those afternoons.

When I go to his room to get him after his not so quiet time, he is naked from the waist down. No pants, no pull-up. I know this going in because I could see on the monitor. What I did not see on the monitor is what he informs me of the minute I open his door. "Mommy, I poopied on the floor!" "I poopied right there. And there and there. And I peed right there." Holy shit! No pun intended. My toddler took his pants and diaper off and shat and peed on the rug. As I enter, he is trying to pick up the poop with wipes to throw it away. Exactly what we do if our dog poops in the house. How adorable. He is at least trying to clean up. Should I be proud of his cleaning skills? He is hysterical laughing. I am trying to breathe...trying to remain composed.

He's never done this before. We are in the middle of potty training. He won't poop in the potty, but somehow always times his poops for when he is sleeping. As in, they stay in a diaper!

I tell him to go sit down on the chair. Noooooo! Don't sit down on the chair. Your butt is covered in shit. My mistake! I negotiate. He sits on the changing table and I wipe all the shit away. I get him dressed and place him outside his room.

I start to clean. I swear I pick up one piece of poop and another one appears. I change the sheets. I throw everything in the washing machine. I break out the carpet cleaner. I go through all the motions. Like a zombie. My eyes probably look like I'm dead inside. I don't lose my cool. I don't yell. I don't make him feel ashamed. He asks me if I'm happy. I tell him I'm not happy. That I'm very sad. That the only place we poop and pee is in the potty or a diaper if he has one on. That he will not be getting a lollipop or cookie now because he peed and pooped on the carpet. He seems to understand. He tells me he won't do it again and then I will be happy.

Now I'm sitting on the couch. Daniel Tiger entertains my little one. We can move on from the incident, but the damage is done and I'm traumatized. I text a mom friend. I vent. Tell her I know I'm a baby. She tells me I'm normal. It's not like I was cleaning up glitter. It's pee and shit. That I'm a better person than she is. She would have yelled. Thank goodness for mom friends. The ones who always tell you the truth.

I continue sitting. It feels like hours. My husband should be home soon. My son has taken out every toy in the family room. It looks like a tornado blew through. All the while I just sit cross-legged on the couch staring into space, totally checked out. I'm having flashbacks of postpartum depression. Can postpartum depression come back? Even two years after you get better? I should ask my therapist. Maybe I should go back to my therapist.

My husband finally gets home. He handles it. He cleans the entire family room. Something he knows will make his slightly OCD wife feel better. He has another talk with our son. He kisses me on the head. He takes us out for pizza and wine. By the time we get home, I'm feeling much better. I'm playing with my son, laughing, and the moment has passed.

I realize that this would not be a big deal for some moms. Even some moms I know. Again, I'm the mom I am. I won't apologize for that. When this happened, all I could think about was it becoming my son's new habit. And I'm thinking, I did not sign up for this! But I did sign up for this. I had a child. I became someone's mom. This is all part of the package. It's not going to always be fun and easy. And I'm not always good at hard. And that's the daily struggle. My struggle. And the struggle is real!