The Motherhood Experiment

Someone's been playing hooky this week.

Well maybe not with work. I'm actually on it this week.

And not with household chores, either. This is the CLEANEST this house has been, consistently, in a long time.

In fact, this week has flown by with the same day-to-day shit that seems to be taken for granted endlessly. And this week is definitely not the exception.

It doesn't matter that I've had the house cleaned AND organized by the time Hubz gets home. Kids taken care of, fed and bathed. Laundry folded and put away. Checkbook balanced and all bills paid on time. Completed all my hours for work before dinner time. Even staying on top of my goal of exercising at least 3X a week.

Never mind that the 3-year old will cry to demonstrate his frustration. Or wants. Or that I refuse to give him what he's asking for if he's crying. Or whining. Same with the 7-year old.

Whine and tears will get you nowhere in this house. At least, not with me. And if you're anywhere near me in Target or Costco, you probably have overheard me saying, "I'm sorry, but I can't do anything for you while you're crying."

That usually turns off the waterworks, as long as they take a breath so they can actually hear me. Sometimes I have to repeat myself several times before they hear me. And then come the hugs.

Do you know that we have a position posted in our department? For the same type of position I'm currently in right now?

Decent pay. Flexible part-time hours. Ability to work in the office or from home.

But our top candidates have turned it down - why?

"Oh, if I only work 20 hours a week, I won't be able to afford childcare anymore."

Well, THAT rose a chuckle out of me. In fact, I laughed out loud during our conference call. Most of the women in our industry will turn down the opportunity to work from home, because it's just not possible to get our jobs done while minding our children under the same roof.

Even if they WERE working from home, they'd need to hire someone to watch the kids so they could get their jobs done.

Wouldn't that be bliss???

But I laugh, because that is exactly what I face, every day. I wake up in the morning with corporate email, and go to bed with corporate email. I try to suppress the noise factor in my house when on the phone, and when I'm talking with the Marketing and eCommerce Manager planning a pop-up meeting for next week - it doesn't help when I have two monsters bumrush me in the office while playing hide and seek under my desk.

Oh - everything works out alright. I've never gotten in trouble or anything, even when my littlest one peed on the floor while I was on the phone with my bosses. (Yes - true story!) And when it's finally become unavoidable, I can usually crack a joke about it and we just get a good laugh out of it.

But afterwards... when I hang up the phone?

I'm so mad I am seriously seeing scarlet, red and orange. Try dealing with that, day in and day out.

Along with having a husband CONSTANTLY reminding you that you're overweight. Hell, he doesn't even have to say anything sometimes. I can SEE it in his eyes, in his face... in the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not looking and when he knows I am.

Or when he comes home to a clean house, only to look for something out of order so he can bitch about that. Like when Jacob set up a desk next to mine so he can work on his math while Joel was taking a nap.

He brought in his workbook and a flowerpot he made for me to hold his pencils, then trotted over with his trophies to display.

"There. Now it's like Dad's desk!"

And since this is routine, I didn't bother to make him put it away. I actually thought it was kinda cute.

But at 10pm last night, just when I thought Skinny Ass had finally gotten it all out of his system, I hear him muttering under his breath in the kitchen.

"Fucken can't even tell the kids to pick up after themselves..." and yadiyadiya.

So, let me see now. He's insulting me as a mother, that I'm not doing my job well in teaching my children how to pick up. He's insulting the kids, when he doesn't realize how everybody pitches in around here to get the house tidied up at the end of the day.

And by "at the end of the day," I mean after dinner has been cleaned up. Because we ALL know that it's not the end of the day for Mothers. No, not when you haven't had any ME time yet, but you still have baths to give, teeth to brush, and kids to get ready for bed. You haven't had time to blog all day - all week! - but you're NOT going to give him a reason to bitch anymore.

Well, this week - I decided to conduct a little experiment.

I told myself I would stay on top of everything all week, and see how that would affect - well, everyone. I'd have home-cooked meals and the house cleaned before he got home from work.

I'd eat healthy and exercise, and spend good quality time with the boys. Get my work finished before it was time to start dinner - and the kids to swimming lessons on time each day. And definitely make sure I don't spend time on the computer after he got home. (*sigh* - but I sure do miss my bloggy friends...)

And you know what? I did it. All of it. I usually do it anyway, just a little on the lax side. Like, I don't care if the house isn't perfect, or if my mail is piled up on the kitchen counter.

But this week? I was friggin' Wonder Woman.

But he doesn't care. He still finds something to bitch about. And after he's bitched about whatever he found, he thinks he can start talking to me like everything's okay. Like everything's normal. As if putting me down as a wife and mother, putting the kids down, isn't going to have this, uh, negative affect on me.

No, sir. There are consequences. You can bitch all you like, and maybe I have to put up with it because I married your Skinny Ass, but it doesn't mean that everything's gonna be hunky dory whenever YOU feel like it.

I KNOW you're tired. I KNOW you don't mean half the things you say. But I'm your opposite, remember? I don't say something UNLESS I mean it.

And when you complain that you've worked 120+ hours the last 2 weeks, I ask you in turn, if you know how many hours I'VE worked the last 2 weeks, I'm flabbergasted to hear you say:

"NO. I mean working at a REAL job."

Oh. My bad. I thought I actually DID have a real job. A couple of them, actually. One that comes with a paycheck after working 20 hours a week, and another with endless hours - day in and day out - that has its own rewards.

I'm a Work-At-Home-Mom, taking care of my job, my boys and the house. And even if you can't appreciate it, even if I'm not perfect, I know I'm doing a damn good job. I don't need you to tell me so - Lord knows, you haven't yet in the 10 years we've been together. But I don't need you telling me I'm doing a shitty job either.

I don't ever pretend to know what it would take to do what you do every day, or having to burden the pressures of having to make sure you can provide for your family.

But you're not here every day. You can't even handle shopping with the kids. And when my mom had brain surgery and you took vacation for 2 weeks to watch the kids, you couldn't even handle THAT. There were just 2 then, and you were on VACATION! You weren't even working!!

I'm working AND handling the kids. All 3 of them. You come home to a decent house in order and a damn decent sex life. I don't know ANY OTHER couples out there that can compete. Trust me. I've asked.

I don't pretend that I can do your job, much less better. So please don't pretend like you can do mine better.

Please.

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Tale of the Twins - Part 2

[Continued from Part 1]

Hubz was already at work and Mama was halfway across the world in the Philippines. There wasn't anything they could do just then so I figured I'd just wait until Hubz got home.

Skin rash? On both breasts? But it doesn't get any better.

Later that evening, I'd decided to check the twins, and found that they had stuck to my bra.

Did that come out right?

Taking the bra off was like peeling off a band-aid, and a close inspection told me I now had an orangey-green crust inside my bra, coming from said rashes.

Holy shit.

Did I tell you they weren't even rashes anymore? They were secreting pus (ugh!), and looked like open sores. Lesions.

I thought I was going to cry.

But I'm not a crier. And especially not in public. Not even if I wanted to. Oh, watery eyes, yes. A sting in my nose, yes. But if I end up shedding any tears, it's usually out of pure frustration. Or utter empathy.

Instead I went straight to the bathroom and started scrubbing. And to my horror, I watched what looked like little beads of sweat start to appear on the lesions I had just scrubbed clean.

But it's not sweat. It's friggin' pus.

Hubz is home now and, of course, I'm starting to freak out. But the "T" in him balances me out and assures me it's probably just some kind of rash.

I love that about us... We've developed some kind of system in knowing who has to be the stronger one, and when.

And even if I didn't agree, I let myself mirror his thoughts, and said another prayer. I gave it to God, and put it out of my head. We agreed to wait a few days, and if it didn't get better, we'd call the doctor's office.

I made the call on Friday. Except he wasn't there that day. And when they heard why I was calling, they got me in that morning to see another doctor.

In the doctor's office, I stayed calm and lighthearted. Had a nice conversation with both the nurse and the doctor, who had me undress and gave me a breast exam as well.

I liked the doc, she listened and asked questions. She didn't make me feel like I was being a silly, paranoid woman or like I was eating up her time.

But I read her face. And she was worried.

She'd never seen anything like this before, and wasn't quite sure what to do. So we decided to treat it like eczema, and to come back in a week for a follow up.

The next Friday, things were lookin' up. This miracle cream may be made for cattle, and even if these ones hadn't been milked in a while, Bag Balm sure did help.

What a relief!

But the weekend came and soon changed my spirits...

[To be continued... Click here for Tale of the Twins - Part 1 of 3]

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The Silver Pouch

When I asked you who your favorite fictional characters were, you brought on a really cool list of who you fell in love with, who you wanted to be like... and we even touched on the difference between love and lust.

*wicked smile*

But love and lust go hand in hand for me - I didn't marry Skinny Ass for just his good looks, you know. ;)

lol - when we first got together, my girls were all like, "And how the HELL did you two hook up?"

Opposites attract, that's for sure. It's kinda neat to compare personality traits, see what makes the other one tick. Or how to tick 'em off. ;)

But before we got hitched, I was never the type to go ga-ga over anyone. Hell - we went to a Cultural Event and saw one of our famous Filipino Celebrities just outside the theatre, signing autographs.

All the girls were all up on him, screaming his name... And what did I do?

I just walked on by. Didn't even give him a sideways glance.

I'm the same bitch at the bar, drink in hand. You'd better think twice before coming up to me, WITH your game on.

For real, though, it's easy to turn me off. Show me just a hint of arrogance, immaturity - or insensitivity? I don't care how damn fine you are - take your ass outta my face if that's how you're gonna play.

Damn... I'm SO glad to be out of the singles scene...

One thing though, since I'm not in the game anymore... I'm finding out how much fun it is playing the foolish girl. The last time we went to Sin City, Skinny Ass and I went to see Zumanity. You know, the sensual side of Cirque de Soleil?

And then out came Bronco.

Hot DAMN. That man can mooooove.

I may not be the type to fall for guys with hair longer than mine, but it sure was fun hootin' and hollerin'. So after the show, when we saw him posing for pics, I just had to get me a souvenir.

Skinny Ass just shook his head at me in laughter and snapped this picture for me.

He's dubbed it "The Silver Pouch."





Psst! Are you looking for this week's Standing Ovation Honoree? Check out Momo Fali's over at Muthahood Crib.

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Not Your Puppy Love

I just put Baby Joel down for a nap, and was strolling through to the kitchen for some of Mama's pancit. Hubz was kickin' it on the couch, arms laid back.

Affectionately, I called out to him as I walked by. "Hey, bitch."

And he lovingly flicked me off. :)

I just started laughing. Mama says we're crazy.

But that's just how we are. ;)

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Hubby Needs to Get a Clue

I took a nap today.

Not after lunch. Not even in the afternoon.

I excused myself at 5:30pm, thinking I was going to take a 20-minute cat nap. It had been a rocky, chaotic day and I'd had my fill. To top it off, it didn't matter that I was already over on hours for the week, I still had a whole load of other projects to tend to before Friday.

Joel fell asleep when we went to pick up JC at 4:30pm, so after going through work email one more time, I found myself noddin' off at my desk. What is it about being emotional that makes me so sleepy?? Is that my defense mechanism?

I told the older kids we'd grab a bite to eat in a bit, and left them to their cartoons. The next thing I know, I woke up from a dream, not quite myself just yet...

And found that my clock said 7:30pm. WTF?!

I dashed out the room and found Joel still asleep. Well there goes bedtime, right?

And found the other 2 exactly where I left them. "You guys hungry?" I asked?

It was 7:30pm. They usually eat at 5:30pm. Of course, they're hungry - MOM.

But I started getting dizzy myself and told them we'd have to go out another night. We had a crappy combination of Kid Cuisine, chimichangas and pizza. It worked.

Skinny Ass came home at 9pm. And at 9:30pm, I put all 3 kids in the car and we took off for ice cream. Yes, I'm irritated with him today. Even if he's only part of it.

It amazes me that even though I'm a WAHM of 3, he still has NO clue of what it takes to balance my day. Balance work with the kids and the house... He called me for something he needed when I was going out the door to pick up JC, and at that point, I barely had time to brush my teeth that morning. Forget the shower.

He doesn't realize that what he's asking isn't always as simple as he thinks it should be.

Like going out to Starbucks to buy gift cards for work means either he goes for me, or I put 2 sick kids in their car seats to come with me. Or how errands need to be timed around nap times in between mealtimes or you'll have one grouchy toddler to deal with.

He can't even remember who needs to get picked up at what time on what day.

And when Joel was still awake at 11pm, he said to him in singsong, "You're still awake coz Mommy gave you ice cream at 10 o'clock at night."

No dipshit. He's awake coz he took a 3 hour nap. If you're gonna talk shit - get your facts straight.

I wish I could've enjoyed my Butterfinger Sonic Blast. But I just don't have an appetite when I'm irritated. Damn - I just realized... I could almost turn that into a diet plan.

Almost.

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He Must Love Me

hen I told him that I wanted new silverware and a new rice cooker for Mother's Day, he about fell over.

"That's not what I thought you'd ask for," he explained.

"Yeah well, I'm tired of running out of forks and finding the coating from the bottom of the rice cooker in my food," I said with a shrug.

We went out and before I knew it, not only did I get new silverware and a new rice cooker, I got new dinnerware, new capris, new tops, a couple new dresses and EVEN my absolute fave - new pajamas.

If you don't already know the Hubz, I should tell you - he's a cheap bastard. He once gave me hell when I spent 5 bucks on an embellished hand towel for the guest bathroom. 5 bucks. So I'm serious when I say - he must love me. Or maybe he feels guilty for hollering at everybody this morning... ;)

I actually had fun shopping for myself today - don't get to do that very often! Even picked up some MUCH needed new clothes for the kids since they all seem to growing like weeds right now.

After a lobster dinner, we finally came home and my 7-year old presented me with this:

Life. Is. Good.

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Handwriting Analysis for Lovers

picked this book up somewheres... a long time ago. Right around the time when Skinny Ass and I first got together.

Thought maybe I could peek into his "inner soul" before I got too attached.

Of course, it was after we got married before I got a writing sample from him. I actually found it the other day when I was cleaning up some paperwork on the kitchen counter.

And since it got lost again (sigh), you'll have to bear with me as I show you what I got out of this.

Here's a pretend sample of my handwriting:

And here's a pretend sample of his handwriting:

What did I learn from this? Besides that his handwriting is about the sh*ttiest I've ever seen?

Only that the mutha will put up with just about anything from me. ;)

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Oh. How Sweet.

Hubby is home today after a 3-day trip in Vegas with some friends from work. When's the last time I went on an outing like that?

Oh, never.

But within 5 hours of being home, he asks me:

>>"Baby, you putting on weight?"

>>"Uh, no." Defensively.

Then silence.

Little sh*t. It's a good thing you're doing laundry or I'mma have to knock you out.

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I Thought Quality Time Came WITH the Marriage

Skinny Ass is irritated with me. He hates, hates, HATES it when I surf the Internet.

I think he liked it better when I sat next to him on the couch while he surfed through channels on the TV. I was still a little naive back then, and I'd tell myself we could catch up on the day's events during commercials.

Yeah, right. Then I woke the f- up.

Quality time to him is doing the above. To the tee. (I could even be reading a book - just not surfin' the net.)

"We're spending time together," he says emphatically.

What?! My idea of QT is actually any kind of conversation OTHER than the following:

• --What the kids did today in school
• --What happened at work today
• --What bills need to be paid
• --What to do with the little league sign up's
• --What to bring for the wrestling tournament
• --What surprise came in the mail today
• --What needs to be cleaned up in the house

And yadifrigginyada.

It's all logistics. Stuff that comes with the territory of managing your family and household. Makes you wonder what the h*ll we talked about BEFORE we got married, huh?

So imagine my surprise when at the dinner table last night, he actually says something more... meaningful....

We were having KFC with all the fixin's. As he's contemplating his cole slaw and mashed potatoes, he looks away from me, head tilted upward in thought and says quietly:

>>Skinny Ass: "KFC has the best side dishes. Makes me think of my mom..."

I almost choked on some fried chicken.

His mom passed in 2006, she had been battling Alzheimer's for many long years... His dad passed in 1998, almost seemingly not wanting to fight the brain tumor without his wife beside him. A common question in the family for the longest time was:

"If you had to choose between dying from Alzheimer's and dying from a brain tumor - which would it be?"

He doesn't talk about them.

>>Me (after a half second pause): "Did you guys eat at KFC a lot?"

>>Skinny Ass: "Nah. But she'd cook up a whole dinner of fried chicken, then run out to KFC for the sides. Kinda like goin' to Carl's Jr. for a baked potato."

And he laughed. So we talked a little more, and inside my heart was silently tearing in two.

It wants to dance, because of the little piece inside of him that made him feel open enough to share with me today.

And it wants to cry out, for I know how much he misses them and how he wishes that they could've known his sons.

Quality time for me is getting to know someone. What's inside, what makes them tick. What their idiosyncracies are and what pet peeves do they have. What makes them laugh out loud. What breaks them into tears.

I don't need to have a steak and lobster dinner with a dozen roses for some quality time with my hubby. I love the little stuff. A simple flower just because, a soft caress on the arm or a squeeze on my shoulder, a phone call in the middle of the day...

Even a little tidbit inspired from some KFC. :)

It lets me know he's thinking of me. Even if we're always going 100 miles an hour. It separates us from being room mates, and instead, husband and wife.

What about you? How do you manage to find quality time with yours?

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Slipper Socks, A Luxury Item

Okay - yes, I subscribe to Good Housekeeping. I think it was one of those subscriptions to help out with school, yadiyadiyada. Turns out it has some pretty good tidbits in it - more than I'd ever get out of some of the other stuff we get.

I LOVED this article - Marriage Makeover with Dr. Phil and Robin. I seriously wanted to cut it up and save for my kids to read when they got older and into serious relationships.

Yeah right.

Like I'd be able to FIND it when the time comes.

And the little lightbulb went on. I've been trying to figure out a way to save my favorite articles, tips or products - doh!

I have to tell you, though, that I've yet to finish the whole article. I left it in the bedroom and to my surprise, Joe was reading it when he got home from work today! He strolls into the kitchen, sees the Costco bags and in his best Dr. Phil imitation, asks, "Is this a need? A want? Or a desire?"

He goes on and on with his smartypants self and I put on my best stern face with my hands on my hips, irritated because he's questioning me about the 3 pairs of slipper socks I bought for $10. The ONE item I bought that wasn't groceries.

But he just kept going and going, thinking he was doing SUCH a good impression of Dr. Phil.

Darnit - was that a giggle that crept out? (Uh-oh - is darnit a cuss word?)

He is SUCH a snap. ;)

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