I Take It Back! I Take It All Back!

What was I thinking? I will take my cuddle-averse, too-many-other-things-to-do-than-sit-here-with-you-mom-but-thanks child over this one any day.

After a night consisting of me pacing back and forth holding a sick baby for 9 hours straight (9 HOURS! Appreciate me for a second.) I sincerely think this whole “hugging” thing is overrated.

I want my Landon back.

So That's What It Feels Like to Have Your Child Like You

Landon has a fever of 102.7. It has continued to rise since this morning despite a regular Tylenol regimen. The poor little man is so exhausted he can barely keep himself awake for more than a half hour at a time. When he is awake he is miserable and just wants to sit there being held. Is it wrong of me to sort of enjoy that? I have been blessed with an incredibly active, curious, squirmy, short-attention-spanned child whom I usually have to force-hug while he pushes me away with both arms and legs because I am apparently ruining his diabolical plan of catching the cat. So this burying his face into my shoulder, sitting on my lap with his head leaning against my chest or falling asleep nuzzled into the crook of my arm – I don’t know this child. But I kind of like that he’s here.

Not that I want my child to feel pain or discomfort by any means, but I suppose it feels like I am actually able to do something for him, provide some sort of relief, because otherwise I am completely helpless. I can’t take away sickness from him. I can’t transfer the pain onto myself. I can’t force medicine to work better, faster. I can’t provide a magic cure. I can’t ensure that something worse won’t happen in the future. Helpless – the least klassy feeling there is. But I can provide a safe and familiar (albeit somewhat bony) place to lay his little head, as long as this little snuggly boy chooses to hang around.

In Case You Ever Doubted My Klassiness as a Mother

The other day my 10 month-old son, Landon, decided that I was his teething toy and kept biting my shoulder every time I would hold him. I put on my sternest face and with the most firm, no-nonsense voice I could muster, I would pull him away and say “No Biting”. Apparently, my stern face is hilarious because he would giggle and then clap.

This does not bode well for future discipline.

I decided that my serious face needed some work so, naturally, I went to practice in the mirror. Knowing full well that, should anyone walk in on me, I would not only not be taken seriously by children, but self-respecting adults as well. Nonetheless, I practiced. What I realized by looking at myself in the mirror (literally, not just philosophically) was that the majority of my “chiding” face was the same as my “SUPER EXCITED!” face. My eyebrows were raised and head tilted, only the jutted out jaw replaced the “GOOD JOB!” smile. No wonder Landon giggled. He was causing me physical pain and 75% of my face was saying “WAY TO GO!”.

So I practiced and practiced until I could get just the right amount of lowered/pushed together eyebrows and squinty eyes to look very serious without looking too much like I was trying to move a stationary object using the force. New stern face perfected and the future of a well behaved child before me, I picked up Landon. He, of course, bit me again and I unleashed my new face in all its “Don’t Mess with Me” glory along with a resolute “No Biting” command. Giggle, giggle. Clap, clap, clap. And then he bit me again. So I did what any other perfectly mature, loving, rational mother would do in the face of utter failure.

I bit him back.

There, I admit it. All pretense of my efficacy as a mother has been thrown out the window. Although I must admit – he hasn’t bitten me since.

Any other stories of good mothering are always welcome. Because you are so kind to do the same for me, I will only slightly judge you.

The Name Game

I put off starting a blog forever partly because of A) laziness B) stubbornness & C) I couldn’t think of a good enough name. The hardest thing about a blog is really the name – it will forever brand you, like that kid in your class named Millard. Here is a look at a few of my castoffs:

1. Allthegoodblognamesweretaken: But I kid you not that it was already taken.

2. Iheartcheese: because I do. I really, really do.

3. Dotblogspot: For the very reason that when someone asked me what my blog address was I could say “dotblogspot” and they would say “what dotblogspot?” and I’d be like “no, dotblogspot” and they’d go “I know, but WHAT dotblogspot?” and I’d be all “I told you! Dotblogspot!” and it would be a whole Laurel and Hardy thing. But then I realized that I enjoyed having friends and would like to keep that going.

4. IknowwhathappensattheendofLOST: I figured that this would be a great way to attract tons of readers all at once, but then when they found out that my best guess as to how they get off the island is that the Harlem Globetrotters stop by for an exhibition game and then bring them home, I think I would make a lot of people very mad. And I really don’t want my house egged, again.

5. TeamTyler: Because who needs a brooding vampire or mangy werewolf when you have a husband who happily changes diapers, will rub YOUR back when he’s been standing in surgery all day and even gets up with the baby when he has to wake up at 5 am? Take that, Stephenie Meyer!

6. Yourmomgoestocollege: Because everything is funnier if “your mom” is in front of it.

7. Mymomreallydoesgotocollege: At least she did until she graduated just recently, for which I’m really proud of her.

8. JerseyShoreForever: I actually tried this one out for awhile. I meant that the Jersey Shore is a lovely place to vacation but apparently some people took it to mean something else and reacted in a surprisingly negative way (see #4).

I Told You...

Look Ma! I'm Blogging!

Well, now you’ve done it, digital universe. You have officially broken me down. Congratulations on your annoying persistence. Yes, after years of faithfully stalking other people’s innermost thoughts or looking in on their latest adventures (sounds kind of creepy now that I’ve written it down) I’ve decided to throw my own musings against the wall o’internets and see what sticks.

Would you mind scooting over to make room for me on the bandwagon? Thank you.

This blog will not be about what fantastic craft I have created out of satin ribbon, chicken wire and hole punches shaped like little boats. Nor, at the risk of disappointing my mother and pretty much every other long-distance family member, will this be a play by play of my 10 month-old son’s every move and how completely adorable he is. Well, at least not entirely. He will be a prominent feature mainly because he makes up my every day - and he is absolutely and completely adorable.

In no way do I intend to demean other blogs that offer these things – they make up the majority of my own voyeuristic entertainment. I love seeing what other people can create and the great activities they do with their kids. It allows me to live vicariously since my last craft project ended with more than one shiny object accidentally glue-gunned to my cat and my child would rather try to see if his head fits through the pet door than sit down for My Baby Can Read flashcards (did I mention how cute he is? Because he is).

While I lack most chronicle-worthy (read: actual) talents, I suppose I do have something I can offer. I think. A lot. Like too much. Like my husband often needs me to give him a road map of how one thought leads to another. Like the time that we saw a Redwood tree on a t.v. commercial which made me wonder out loud about how tall they were which led me to discuss the merits of proposed tax increases on certain products which ended in my vehement proclamation that green M&M’s do in fact taste different from red M&M’s and are the best M&M of all! Yeah, like that.

Klassygal is all about the loose threads hidden on an expensive piece of clothing. From the outside, it looks perfectly put together. But on closer inspection, one pull and the whole thing comes apart and you’re standing there naked. Why you were only wearing one piece of clothing, I don’t know, but nonetheless your perfect façade is gone. It’s what we really think when we aren’t trying to sound smart. So if you enjoy discussing Proust, spending half your month’s salary on beverages adorned with little cream hearts on top or if you actually read through every article of The Economist rather than just the beginning and ending paragraphs for “the gist” then this may not be for you. But feel free to stay, you may glean something from the babble ahead.

But if, like me, you enjoy a little philosophical discourse every now and then, are viewed as knowledgeable about world events and open to myriad cultural experiences but you also regularly frequent PeopleofWalmart, snicker at the word pianist and even after seeing it 100 times, still find Charlie Bit My Finger absolutely hilarious (Ouch Charlie! OOOUUUUCCH!) then read on, my friends.

Read on.