Motherhood: The Job « ad hoc MOM

Motherhood: The Job

Jun14Suburban Living 101: Or, Has Anyone Seen My Car?
Paula

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost three months since we left Brooklyn. While we miss our friends, the restaurants, the coffee shops and the bars (even though we haven’t set foot in one in years), I’m pleased to report that there’s much to like about living in the suburbs. We eat dinner outside more than inside (and sometimes even breakfast!). We have so many windows that we haven’t had to turn on any air conditioners, if I get annoyed with June I can demand that she “go play upstairs.” However, there are some basics to living out here that have taken me awhile to grasp. For instance. . . .

Maybe trading in our car for a shopping cart car would solve all of my problems?

When you park your car in a huge parking lot, like at Target or Home Depot, it seems you’re supposed to make a mental note of where you left it. I forget to do this EVERY TIME. Every time! Like a total idiot, I am always walking out of Target with bags of stuff I don’t need, a cranky toddler, and a puzzled look on my face because I have NO idea where my car is.

Speaking of stuff I don’t need. Let’s talk about Target briefly. The second you put something in your cart, whether it be an $8.00 Merona t-shirt or an economy size box of goldfish crackers you have just committed to spending at least $120.00 at that store. It is IMPOSSIBLE to spend less than $120.00 at Target. Try it. Seriously. I challenge you to spend a penny less.

Okay, shopping carts. Why is it they barely move in the actual store. . . they are all squeaky and difficult to push, yet the second you get the stupid cart out to your car and dare look away from it for two seconds while opening the trunk the damn thing is flying down the parking lot at about 50 mph toward like a major highway or a Mercedes? Seriously, I am always sure to remove my child from the cart, like, immediately upon reaching the car (as soon as I find it that is).

I’m sure there’s more stuff I’m screwing up – and I have much more to learn. We’re off to the store, so please wish us luck.

And hey, if you want to horrify your friends and family by writing a memoir, I’m giving a free webinar next Monday!

Filed Under: Life Lessons, Motherhood: The Job
Tags: new jersey, new york city, what was I thinking?, WTF?

10 Comments

Apr28Embracing Motherhood Head On
Paula

I’ve been spending a lot of time with my kid lately. We haven’t met many new people yet, so I’m basically her only playmate (I’m seriously afraid of what our neighbors will think of our recycling. Vodka-chardonnay-proseco-bacardi-cocktail anyone?). Without her usual posse, she needs a lot of attention from mom. Yet everyday, I mistakenly think I can take the time to do something for myself. . . like blog, or pee, or eat. Every single time I sit down I get a request for something, like juice, goldfish crackers. . . or these totally annoying gems:

The writing of this blog post was temporarily interrupted to photograph this baby in this grocery cart. Important business!

Just seconds ago as I sat down to work on my blog post: “Mom. I need you to take a picture of my baby in this grocery cart. She’s sleeping and wants you to take a picture because she looks so cute.”

I want to sit on your stomach.

Find my raisin.

I need music. Music! I need music!

What happened to all of the cotton balls?

After I do leave room to pee (risky. So risky!) . . . I come back to find daughter speaking on phone to telemarketer from New Jersey Star Ledger. Fabulous.

Call the Easter Bunny and tell him NOT to come into the house. DO IT NOW.

The puzzle here is that as long as I’m standing up and like, washing the dishes or folding laundry I might be left alone. Who is she Glenn Beck? I’m trying to take this one day, I mean one hour. . . actually I mean one cocktail (don’t panic – it’s not until AFTER BEDTIME and after my husband is home people!) at a time. We’ll get it together. . . make friends, get back on schedule, etc. etc. Until then I think I’m going to have to just tell her to find her own raisin. But as for the Easter Bunny – I’m absolutely willing to place that call. As soon as June gets off the phone.

Filed Under: Disorganization, Motherhood: Fun?, Motherhood: The Job
Tags: desperation, friends, sad mothers

12 Comments

Apr13Playdate of One = NO Fun
Paula

I usually think it’s a good thing that my daughter isn’t much like me when I was a kid (June = confidence personified , I was scared of my own shadow). However, I’m starting to worry that my daughter cannot entertain herself for one single second. NOT one. This became especially clear today. . as we were stuck inside the house together from 9 am to 9 pm. It was pouring rain, and we had appointments with various people about house stuff. June finally has her own bedroom, a basement full of toys, and one of rooms on the top floor has NOTHING BUT HER TRAINS IN IT. And yet she refuses to pick up a toy unless I agree to play with her. I get it. . the kid misses her friends – and I’m all for playing some of time, and it should be noted that we read books, color, and do artsy stuff with her 900 markers. It’s not like I’m watching Days of Our Lives and General Hospital while smoking Virginia Slims while she roams the streets. But do I really need to wear a Princess Cape for two hours of the day to placate my daughter? Is this crucial to her development as a decent human being?

Why have friends when you have Australian beauty Olivia Newton-John and Scientologist John Travolta to entertain your young?

I was an absolute champ when it came to entertaining myself when I was a kid. Who needed friends when you had a library card, some bitchin’ tonka trucks and your very own copy of the Grease soundtrack? I certainly had friends, but my mom’s priorities seemed to be getting stuff done around the house rather than making sure I was “sufficiently entertained.” While I’m not necessarily sure this was always the best approach, I do know that I managed to make do with what I had to play with, and had plenty of fun whether it was with friends or not.

Am I over thinking this? Is it a phase? Or do I really need to encourage June to learn to play by herself more often? One second I feel guilty. I should play with my child and relish every second of this precious fleeting time! Then after the third hour of playing with the Dora the Explorer Castle set (complete with Unicorn driven rickshaw), I am seriously wishing I had a xanax. . then we’re back to the guilt. Sigh.

Filed Under: Motherhood: The Job, Worries
Tags: Anxiety, friends, Guilt, playing

10 Comments

Apr7Good Trip/Bad Trip
Carrie

This week, I will post in symbols. It is dedicated to all my homies who are home alone OR alone, away from home.

Stay strong sisters. Remember, when you don’t get paid, get paid in trade. And if you’re away on business, remember to max out your per diem.

Filed Under: Motherhood: The Job, Musings, Uncategorized
Tags: sad mothers

4 Comments

Mar31Run For Your Lives! We’ve Got a Biter! And He Might Be The Bronx Zoo Cobra!
Tonya

You can see it in their eyes when they look at you. Sure, they’re upset, they have every right to be, but mostly, that squint is full of Nancy Grace-like judgment. I’m pretty sure it’s the same look they’d give me if my preschooler were selling crack at the playground with a “first time’s free” offer (because my kid may be a criminal but he’s also smart). Except, sadly, P isn’t out making some cha-ching to buy himself and his mommy matching pimp cups (I really want my own pimp cup, nothing fancy, just my name in rubies), no, instead, he’s trying his best impression of Hannibal Lector, which probably creates even more vitriol than if my son were, in fact, committing a felony.

This is Park Slope. Your kid can be a lot of things but he CANNOT, under any circumstances, be a biter…Nor is he allowed to eat anything that contains sugar, preservatives, unnatural dye, etc. around other precious progeny at the playground. (Not that my kid eats unhealthy – frankly my kid doesn’t really eat – but should I give him an oreo or a fruit roll-up someday I think he should be able to eat it without the entire community going to Defcon 5 and sending him to quarantine and me to Rikers).

So now, P is in heaps of trouble! The mother of the victim has her son in a vice grip and is moving backward from us ever so slowly like P is the escaped deadly cobra from the Bronx Zoo. My reprimand of P and his subsequent apology to the child aren’t enough. So, I walk over, make tsk tsk noises over the child’s non-existent “bite” because in all actuality I caught my kid before he even got a tooth within 1 inch of the kid’s forearm. And I give the mom my most heartfelt apology (and I truly mean it!) and explain to her that yes, we take biting – or any physical action for that matter – very seriously in our house and there will be consequences. Still she shakes her head, hugs her son tight and steers him far away from us.

I even try and explain he wasn’t really going to make skin-to-mouth contact. He read a story about a monster called Abbiyoyo who pretends to eat things so now P likes to do the same. I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume (as I’m telling this to the mom and she’s looking me over like I’ve just stepped out of Snoop Dogg’s car and smell of bong hits) that she and her offspring have never heard of this Abbiyoyo character.

As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure she’s making posters right now to hang on every telephone poll in a 10 bock radius, warning other Slopers of the teeny vampire on the loose who probably has Rabies or H1N1! I’m sure they’ll be here soon with their pitchforks and torches. Should I be putting together appetizer trays and ginger ale spritzers for the hunting party or packing up my kid and cat and heading out west to seek our fortune? But then I remember I hate to cook and I’m not good with change so we’re staying put and taking our chances. I take precautions now though, so mornings go like this:

Me: Ok, P, what are we not going to do today?

P: I will not eat anybody.

Me: Good boy!

P (whispering to himself as we walk): I will not eat anybody. I will not eat anybody.

And this is the part where I’m stupefied because I’m not a helicopter mom, I’m not a tiger mom; I’m just a regular mom. One who’s trying to teach her kid how to behave. Sure, biting is unpleasant but so is hitting, pushing, spitting, and kicking, but did I mention, he’s a KID? Isn’t this what they do? And then it’s our job to step in and teach them right from wrong.