Date Night

I HAD THE FLU!!!
I'm sorry for  being so defensive right off the bat, but y'all need to know this.  Really, you do. I. HAD. THE. FLU.

Okay, here we go... I met a gentleman we will call "J".  Protecting his identity is more to save me from more humiliation than him.  Heaven forbid one of you people track down this guy and  bring up the name "Jennifer".  I shudder at the reaction my imagination is giving me.  Anywho, I give J my number and we exchange pleasant conversation and texts.  This is the first time in a, well let's say VERY, long time I've given out my number to anyone.

The first time he invited me for drinks, I had to pass.  A: It's during the week.  B:  No sitter. C. I'm working a bit later than usual.  Fortunately, he was pretty understanding and we continued chatting and texting.  So, he asked me out again a couple weeks later.  Again, I had to decline.  My son seemed to catch a bug and needed breathing treatments.  Once again, he was understanding. This bug turned into the flu and I was in nurse mommy mode.  Working full time (I'm so blessed to have been able to take my son with me to the office a few days), dinner, medications, middle of the night breathing treatments.  It's a glamorous life...not for everyone. So, messages weren't returned in a timely fashion...or at all in some cases.  Again, lucky me, he completely got it. 

So... I should know this by now, but I just never learn.  Having a sick little bed bug right next to me only means it's a matter of time until I'm sick.  Damn germ monkey.  But, how can I say no to that sweet, snotty face when all he wants to do is have mommy hold him and watch "Goonies" with him until he drifts off into a fevered sleep?  I'm not made of stone, you know! 

After spending almost a week nursing my little sidekick back to health, I spend my weekend hopped up on Thera Flu and watching  Michelle Phan YouTube makeup tutorials.  I think I'm feeling better; not like it matters- I've got to get back to work anyway.

Finally...FINALLY! A dinner date with J is going to happen.  Friday night.   And it's perfect timing.  I can go home, rest a bit and then apply some of my newly found makeup skills to my face.  After a 20 minute nap... yeah... 20 minutes.

After four hours - FOUR HOURS,  I finally wake up to 14 missed calls and 7 text messages.  The last saying "if u didn't want to go out, u should've said so".  On top of feeling like crap, I felt like crap.  That's a lot of crap to feel like.  I was pretty sure at that point, there would be no more rescheduling.  One redirect to voice mail and an ignored text later, umm yep.  I'm not very good at reading signs from the dating scene, but it was hard to ignore the neon "YOU SUCK" flashers directed at me. 

I'm afraid to look, but my face just might be on a "don'tdatethisgirl.com" site or something. 

Maybe in several months, when I finally have another potential date, I'll chug a Red Bull and chew some vitamin c and B-12 during the week.  But for now, it's nap time.

Hugs & Giggles,
J

My Baby's A Jerk...And Other Lovely Pregnant Thoughts

"My baby's going to be a jerk!" May always makes me nostalgic.  Those sweet months where it was just my little Spud and me.  The time where, no matter what horrible things were happening around me and to me- to us- I could protect him simply by covering my belly.  All it took was a rub of my tummy to calm the crazy waves coming in...I knew his favorite noises and favorite songs...
Then, there were the hormones.  Since it was just my Spud and me, I didn't have any paternal back up to talk me down.  That's what friends and family were for.  Poor them.
"My baby's going to be a jerk!"  I knew this.  I absolutely, 100% knew I was growing a total A-Hole.  And there was nothing I could do about it.
"You're going to love your baby."
"Remember the cat?" I remember whisper-crying in shame.  This poor little kitten I rescued from being kicked around by a rotten juvenile delinquent grew up to be a rotten little bully of a feline.  When his best friend was catnapped, he got even meaner.  Then he ran away.  I  cried.  I cried because I knew he was so sad without his buddy.  I cried because I knew he went to look for him.  I cried because nobody was taking care of him.  I cried because I felt so guilty at being glad that four legged bully was gone.  If I can't even deal with a jerk of a cat, how am I going to deal with a jerk of a kid? Wait for him to run away?  I'm pretty sure there's laws against that.

"Cats are different from babies."  Until now, this friend was the only one who knew of my secret cat shame.
"Yeah.  Babies cry more.  Then they learn to talk. I'll have a jerk baby and everyone will know it and be like 'Hey! Your kid's a jerk!'  And I'll have to agree!!"  I was a little hysterical by this point.  Remembering "The Cat" kind of sent me over the edge.

 "Your baby will not be a jerk.  And if he is, everyone else will know it, but you'll be completely blind to it, because he's yours.  Nobody will dare tell you to your face."  Somehow, this logic worked.
But, every time he used my bladder as a Lazy Boy at 2am, tried to bend my ribs backwards, or when he gave me my first ever case of heartburn for trying to eat my beloved edamame, I couldn't help it; "jerk".

"I don't want a baby.  Kids suck" Another amazing friend had to deal with this particular flip out.  At this point, I was five fantastic months pregnant and had just left the doctor's office from my monthly check up.  A waiting room full of toddlers and babies did not give this single parent the warm fuzzies.  Did I mention that about 90% of them were either screaming, crying or demanding something?  Or all three.  Before pregnancy,  I loved kids.  Finding "The One" and starting a family put a smile on my face.  Hearing news of pending bundles of joy completely thrilled me- I couldn't wait for babies to come around.  Until it was my turn. 

I knew a parent whose child was fully embracing the Terrible Twos.  I had to leave the room every time he honed his craft.  Not just because  the screaming was like an ice pick in my ears, but because I was terrified it was contagious.  No, really.  THIS was my thought process.  "I can't have a cryer.  I just can't.  I'm not built to deal with a crying whiner."  My cousin drew the short straw for this little meltdown.
"It can't be that bad."  Then she witnessed the action.  "Okay, your baby will NOT be this bad.  You'll be fine.  Your mom says you were a good baby, he'll inherit that."  I wasn't convinced, but I was pretty exhausted from freaking out, so I let her think she calmed me down.

"What To Expect When You're Expecting" doesn't really cover jerk baby thoughts.  

In addition to odd thought here and there that I was was hatching a screaming, crying demon jerk baby, there were the other meltdowns.  I'm a raw nerve normally.  Every Disney classic ever made has successfully made me bawl my way through at least a half box of tissue.  Imagine all these cry baby nerves on a double dose of hormones.  God bless my uncle, who went out at 11 at night to get more 2% milk when I started crying because it was finished and I needed more chocolate milk. God bless him twice for giving me the last home grown tomato when I started hyperventilating that all I had left were store bought.  Hey, pregnant women need calcium and folic acid.  True Story.

Thank goodness for my very best friend who "proof read" my strongly worded letter to Hawaiian Shaved Ice Company for not having a shack more conveniently located near my workplace.  Come to think of it, she never emailed me the corrections.  Hmm...

It wasn't all flip outs and meltdowns and thinking I had a rotten bun in the oven.  Far from it.  Music and book, both children's and text were aimed at my growing tummy.  Words of encouragement (for both of us) were whispered... "We'll be okay. Better than okay."

Everyone was right though; it was love at first sight. 

I just had.....moments...I'm so glad my baby's not a jerk.

Love and smiles,
J

This Single Mommy's Life: Invisible Me

Invisible Me

After quite a few long years, I've come to realization that I'm not just a mommy, but a single woman.  Whoa.  Crazy, huh? Yeah, it's weird to me too.  I've been defined as a mommy for so long, but that's just one of my many roles in life. My most important one, for sure, but still...there's a small voice in my brain (again, one of many, but that's a whole 'nutha blog) that is telling me I've lost my identity.  MY identity.  Who am I?  If I'm not just a mom, who is it?  I'm pretty much invisible. When I'm asked about hobbies, you could practically hear the hamster screech to a halt on the little wheel in my head.  Hobbies? Who has hobbies anymore?  Interests?  What are those?  We color...we play hot wheels... hang out at the park.  Animal Planet and Disney are pretty much the only reason we have cable.

I've so fully immersed myself into parenthood, everything else that made me me has totally fallen to the wayside. So far to the side, in fact, I cannot remember what made me me. In efforts to focus more on myself, I make tiny little pacts with myself, I will find me, darn it!  I love music, and so many little concerts come into our city, why not?  Let's do it!  But really? My boy needs new shorts/pants/shoes/whatever, can I really justify spending that money on a ticket instead?  Mani/pedis would be such wonderful "Me Time".  Seriously?  How selfish is that, when we could use that money for some zoo time with a sweet mommy/son lunch after?  I love reading.  Let's find a good book.  Ha! After a full work day, making dinner, cleaning up after dinner, bath time, reading time and getting our stuff ready for the next day? Like staying up to read is really going to happen. I really do miss my photography hobby.  We could both cruise around and let me take shots while he admires the beauty that is our city.  Spending THAT amount of money to replace a stolen camera when a new bedroom set is needed?  Stupid move, indeed.  That just isn't going to happen.  This is tough.  I'm not an easy woman to find.

I can't even decide what to spend my preciously rare free time on.  I am not really a club person.  I rarely drink and having strangers rub up on me is, oddly, not that appealing. I'm weird like that.  At any rate, my few close friends are married or involved with very significant others.  They're usually mildly opposed to getting rubbed up on any way.  I have so little free time, that after I catch up on chores and errands, I'm exhausted.  Netflix and reruns of TLC's "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" are really the best options I can think of. Time with me.  I can dig it.  I like spending time with me. 

One day, you'll see me.  I won't be so invisible.  One day.


Happiness...
J

Invisible Me

After quite a few long years, I've come to realization that I'm not just a mommy, but a single woman.  Whoa.  Crazy, huh? Yeah, it's weird to me too.  I've been defined as a mommy for so long, but that's just one of my many roles in life. My most important one, for sure, but still...there's a small voice in my brain (again, one of many, but that's a whole 'nutha blog) that is telling me I've lost my identity.  MY identity.  Who am I?  If I'm not just a mom, who is it?  I'm pretty much invisible. When I'm asked about hobbies, you could practically hear the hamster screech to a halt on the little wheel in my head.  Hobbies? Who has hobbies anymore?  Interests?  What are those?  We color...we play hot wheels... hang out at the park.  Animal Planet and Disney are pretty much the only reason we have cable.

I've so fully immersed myself into parenthood, everything else that made me me has totally fallen to the wayside. So far to the side, in fact, I cannot remember what made me me. In efforts to focus more on myself, I make tiny little pacts with myself, I will find me, darn it!  I love music, and so many little concerts come into our city, why not?  Let's do it!  But really? My boy needs new shorts/pants/shoes/whatever, can I really justify spending that money on a ticket instead?  Mani/pedis would be such wonderful "Me Time".  Seriously?  How selfish is that, when we could use that money for some zoo time with a sweet mommy/son lunch after?  I love reading.  Let's find a good book.  Ha! After a full work day, making dinner, cleaning up after dinner, bath time, reading time and getting our stuff ready for the next day? Like staying up to read is really going to happen. I really do miss my photography hobby.  We could both cruise around and let me take shots while he admires the beauty that is our city.  Spending THAT amount of money to replace a stolen camera when a new bedroom set is needed?  Stupid move, indeed.  That just isn't going to happen.  This is tough.  I'm not an easy woman to find.

I can't even decide what to spend my preciously rare free time on.  I am not really a club person.  I rarely drink and having strangers rub up on me is, oddly, not that appealing. I'm weird like that.  At any rate, my few close friends are married or involved with very significant others.  They're usually mildly opposed to getting rubbed up on any way.  I have so little free time, that after I catch up on chores and errands, I'm exhausted.  Netflix and reruns of TLC's "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" are really the best options I can think of. Time with me.  I can dig it.  I like spending time with me. 

One day, you'll see me.  I won't be so invisible.  One day.


Happiness...
J

This Single Mommy's Life: Gentleman in the Land of Dudes

When i was in 2nd grade, there was this boy named Jimmy.  He made Mrs. Barcena's class an absolute nightmare for me.  He would hide my backpack, steal my crayons, pull my hair and tell me how ugly I was.  You can imagine my absolute horror when he was the boy who left the giant heart lollipop and special cut out Valentine from the back of the box on my desk.  You can probably also imagine my total confusion when my cousin told me "OF COURSE HE LIKES YOU! That's why he does all those things to you!"  Why in the world would you try to make someone you like... hate you?  As I've grown older, my complete confusion about the opposite sex has not lessened.  NOT. AT. ALL.  I've never stopped appreciating a true gentleman and I've never stopped wondering why other ladies would settle for anything less.  "That's how he shows he likes you" does NOT fly in my book.

Is it all part of the "boys will be boys" attitude where they battle it out on the playground with headlocks and arm punches?  So, then how and when do we teach them about "keeping your hands to yourself"? It's such murky waters, it makes my head spin.  I want my child to stand up for himself, but I don't want him to stand up for himself with his hands.  I also don't want him to be a "tattletale"; coming to me with every preschool injustice done to him.Trying to find that solid middle ground is not so...solid.

My early year trauma (and subsequent bad luck) have definitely shaped what I show this boy; what I teach him.  I'm raising a gentleman after all, not a dude. I've been blessed with a mellow and non-confrontational child. It's made my heart smile when, at play dates, he doesn't fall for the aggressive child's trap.  When one would grab his toy and declare it "MINE!", he simply moves on...without a word. That's my boy. Slowly but surely though, he's been finding his voice.

A couple of weeks ago, we went to the park to let out some of that never-ending energy that child has.  Since it was a weekend, many other parents had the same idea.  My small and quiet boy is easily overlooked and taken for granted by the big kids.  He'd finally had his fill of being cut off in line and on the ladder, he calmly and firmly told the boy to "WAIT YOUR TURN".  Nice. No, really.  I was proud.  My nice, proud moment darkened a bit when that rotten child pushed my sweet little justice seeker.  I fully expected this violent criminal activity to be reported and waited for just that. Instead, I got to witness vigilante justice.  My mellow-mannered little guy shoved that brute and repeated himself, "WAIT YOUR TURN!" with a "HAVE SOME MANNERS, PLEASE!" thrown in. Proud moment, back. I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the "please" thrown in at the end.  It was perfect.  No one else messed with him on that playground.  I wasn't quite sure how to handle the shove off incident, so in my typical assertive fashion, I ignored it and was just happy a full on playground brawl didn't erupt.  After that, it was a pretty friendly time on the swing set.  Crisis averted. Whew!
 
Then there's coming to the defense of others.  I've noticed that my sweet boy is quicker to come to the defense of others rather than himself.  His preschool teachers have even said the same thing.  I'm not sure if this amazing characteristic is the work of my teachings or Disney Junior's influence, but it certainly goes in the "WOOHOO" column.  He's quick to come to the aid of the small and picked on.  He's not afraid to tell the big kids to "knock it off" when they get too rowdy or rough with the younger set.  He lets the girls have first crayon pick and makes sure that the rough and tumble games of recess don't hurt them. I cannot express how proud or lucky I feel when I hear that from his teachers.  He knows how to treat a lady.

My gremlin is deceptively aloof.  I never know what sinks in and when he sees someone get bonked on the head by a stray ball or trip and fall, it doesn't seem to phase him.  He waits for the crying to stop, then he carries on. Sometimes, he doesn't even wait. That worries me- he definitely gets that from me.  We don't do whininess very well in our house.  So, to know that our "Dinosaur Manners" readings do sink in feels wonderful.

Even now, as I'm sitting here, catching up on a little writing while the little monkey runs loose in the coolest place ever- Jungle Jaks- I'm catching glimpses of what a good boy he truly is.  Letting the little girls climb up first and making sure his crazy cannon shots don't hurt anyone... yeah, he's a good boy.  Letting the little group of boys who cut in front of him for the bumper boats and that they need to wait behind him, please...yeah...he's a strong boy. 

Manners are not just about "please" and "thank you".  Those are just words...good words... but still just words.

Manners are a tiny part of character; how you carry yourself.  And to know that, my son, at 4 years old, and with clumsy and complete unsure guidance by yours truly, already has the qualities and character of a gentleman and not just a dude, definitely makes me feel like I'm doing something right. Thank God, I have a gentleman and not a dude.
 

Love, hugs and all that good stuff

J

Gentleman in the Land of Dudes

When i was in 2nd grade, there was this boy named Jimmy.  He made Mrs. Barcena's class an absolute nightmare for me.  He would hide my backpack, steal my crayons, pull my hair and tell me how ugly I was.  You can imagine my absolute horror when he was the boy who left the giant heart lollipop and special cut out Valentine from the back of the box on my desk.  You can probably also imagine my total confusion when my cousin told me "OF COURSE HE LIKES YOU! That's why he does all those things to you!"  Why in the world would you try to make someone you like... hate you?  As I've grown older, my complete confusion about the opposite sex has not lessened.  NOT. AT. ALL.  I've never stopped appreciating a true gentleman and I've never stopped wondering why other ladies would settle for anything less.  "That's how he shows he likes you" does NOT fly in my book.

Is it all part of the "boys will be boys" attitude where they battle it out on the playground with headlocks and arm punches?  So, then how and when do we teach them about "keeping your hands to yourself"? It's such murky waters, it makes my head spin.  I want my child to stand up for himself, but I don't want him to stand up for himself with his hands.  I also don't want him to be a "tattletale"; coming to me with every preschool injustice done to him.Trying to find that solid middle ground is not so...solid.

My early year trauma (and subsequent bad luck) have definitely shaped what I show this boy; what I teach him.  I'm raising a gentleman after all, not a dude. I've been blessed with a mellow and non-confrontational child. It's made my heart smile when, at play dates, he doesn't fall for the aggressive child's trap.  When one would grab his toy and declare it "MINE!", he simply moves on...without a word. That's my boy. Slowly but surely though, he's been finding his voice.

A couple of weeks ago, we went to the park to let out some of that never-ending energy that child has.  Since it was a weekend, many other parents had the same idea.  My small and quiet boy is easily overlooked and taken for granted by the big kids.  He'd finally had his fill of being cut off in line and on the ladder, he calmly and firmly told the boy to "WAIT YOUR TURN".  Nice. No, really.  I was proud.  My nice, proud moment darkened a bit when that rotten child pushed my sweet little justice seeker.  I fully expected this violent criminal activity to be reported and waited for just that. Instead, I got to witness vigilante justice.  My mellow-mannered little guy shoved that brute and repeated himself, "WAIT YOUR TURN!" with a "HAVE SOME MANNERS, PLEASE!" thrown in. Proud moment, back. I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the "please" thrown in at the end.  It was perfect.  No one else messed with him on that playground.  I wasn't quite sure how to handle the shove off incident, so in my typical assertive fashion, I ignored it and was just happy a full on playground brawl didn't erupt.  After that, it was a pretty friendly time on the swing set.  Crisis averted. Whew!
 
Then there's coming to the defense of others.  I've noticed that my sweet boy is quicker to come to the defense of others rather than himself.  His preschool teachers have even said the same thing.  I'm not sure if this amazing characteristic is the work of my teachings or Disney Junior's influence, but it certainly goes in the "WOOHOO" column.  He's quick to come to the aid of the small and picked on.  He's not afraid to tell the big kids to "knock it off" when they get too rowdy or rough with the younger set.  He lets the girls have first crayon pick and makes sure that the rough and tumble games of recess don't hurt them. I cannot express how proud or lucky I feel when I hear that from his teachers.  He knows how to treat a lady.

My gremlin is deceptively aloof.  I never know what sinks in and when he sees someone get bonked on the head by a stray ball or trip and fall, it doesn't seem to phase him.  He waits for the crying to stop, then he carries on. Sometimes, he doesn't even wait. That worries me- he definitely gets that from me.  We don't do whininess very well in our house.  So, to know that our "Dinosaur Manners" readings do sink in feels wonderful. 

Even now, as I'm sitting here, catching up on a little writing while the little monkey runs loose in the coolest place ever- Jungle Jaks- I'm catching glimpses of what a good boy he truly is.  Letting the little girls climb up first and making sure his crazy cannon shots don't hurt anyone... yeah, he's a good boy.  Letting the little group of boys who cut in front of him for the bumper boats and that they need to wait behind him, please...yeah...he's a strong boy. 

Manners are not just about "please" and "thank you".  Those are just words...good words... but still just words. 

Manners are a tiny part of character; how you carry yourself.  And to know that, my son, at 4 years old, and with clumsy and complete unsure guidance by yours truly, already has the qualities and character of a gentleman and not just a dude, definitely makes me feel like I'm doing something right. Thank God, I have a gentleman and not a dude.
 

Love, hugs and all that good stuff

J