Monthly Archives: March 2010

But I’m Just So Tired……..

I haven’t posted anything new in a couple of days because I really am sooooo tired.  I’m talking fall asleep standing up, not really knowing what I’m saying tired.  The kind of tired where you leave your apartment without shoes on.  The kind of tired that causes you to have a short fuse because you expect everyone around you to sympathize with you and your exhaustion and when they don’t you kind of lose it.   It’s not pretty I’ll admit, but if only I could just get some sleep maybe I would be in a better mood.

For the past few months I have been experiencing pretty annoying insomnia.  I have no trouble getting to sleep, but I am waking up in the middle of the night and them I am unable to go back to sleep.  This is happening at least four to five times a week and it is killing me.  There is nothing worse than laying there watching the sky get lighter and lighter and knowing that you will have to wait another sixteen to seventeen hours before you can go to sleep again.

There are so many things that can wake me up.  We live on a pretty busy street so sometimes it’s the cars honking or the trucks rumbling by.  Sometimes I am woken up by groups of drunk people leaving the bar down the block and heading for the subway.  Other times I am woken up because the heat will come on and it sounds like Iron Man himself is banging on our radiators with a sledgehammer.  The most common thing that wakes me up however is the need to go to the birthday I mean bathroom. 

Ever since I became pregnant, years ago, I have been waking up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.  I know that this might be TMI, but I don’t care.  If I wake up for only a second the first thing I think is, “How badly do I need to use the bathroom?”.  I then spend the next ten to fifteen minutes trying to judge whether or not I should get up to use the bathroom. 

 I know that is ridiculous and I should just get up, but for some strange reason thinking that way makes me just as stressed.  After twenty minutes I usually get up and go, but by that time I am wide awake.  The thought of being wide awake makes me even more awake and aware that it will be just one more sleepless night to add to the list.  Damn you insomnia.

I just can’t seem to turn my brain off once I am awake.  I will think of everything from where I parked my car to what my butt used to look like in a bikini when I was nineteen.  Weird, I know.  There seems be no limit to what I will think about.  I think about old friends a lot.  I think about old pets I have had.  I fantasize about living on a farm and then I try to count sheep. See the thought process…farm….sheep.  But then I begin to think of raising sheep and how I could learn to do that.  Do they have a school for raising sheep??  What about raising chickens??  Do they have farm school for adults??  I can only wonder and I do….at 3am! 
I think about past decisions I have made.  I think about decisions that will have to be made in the future.  I think about living in Alaska.  Then I think about Sarah Palin and that makes me feel really nervous and I just know that if I ever do get to sleep that I will have crazy Sarah Palin nightmares. 
 But that then makes me think about hunting.  Then I get sad.  I ponder becoming a vegetarian.  That  makes me feel really guilty so I try to think about something that’s guilt free like the beach.  I love the beach.  But I don’t have that nineteen year old ass anymore and the thought of another summer with the ass I have now on display for all to see also makes me pretty nervous.  I really need to start jogging.  But I have to get new sneakers to do that…..
Are you tired yet?? Isn’t it exhausting?  You would think that I would simply exhaust myself, but alas, awake I remain.
I haven’t figured out how to fix this yet and every night at around eight o’clock I begin to get really anxious about my impending night’s sleep.  I know this isn’t helping me any, but I can’t seem to stop this train of thought. Dan is on his way to the store right now to buy me some Tylenol PM.  Hopefully this will help.  I really don’t dig the idea of having to take pills of any kind to sleep, but I am desperate here.  I would like to try drinking chamomile tea, but I think that will just make me have to go to the bathroom and well, you know how that goes. 

What if the Tylenol PM knocks me out so hard that I can’t hear Jack if he calls me?  What if I sleep through the drunken people?  Will they find the subway without me silently cursing them along?  And the trucks.  Dear god the trucks!  How will they find their way back to the highway without me psychically pushing them along.  Oh the responsibilities of those awake at night.  It’s a curse.

Please wish me luck tonight. I’m going to need it.  And if anyone has any advice they would like to pass along I would be really grateful.

Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed boogies bite.



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Filed under farms, insomnia, sarah palin, sheep, toilet, tylenol pm

Let Me Just Pat Myself on the Back for a Moment

I know, I know. I sound awfully full of myself, but I have to say that I do feel pretty proud of myself and the way that I recently handled Jack’s first public meltdown/tantrum. I think I mentioned briefly that Jack has led me into the Twilight Zone and I’ll be honest, I haven’t gone willingly.

So far Jack’s tantrums have been held inside, in the privacy of our apartment and they are often triggered by the suggestion that we go outside. This winter has made a hermit of my normally sun-loving kid. Tear…. OK, back to my back patting moment. So, somehow I manged to get Jack outside with minimal tears and off to the playground which is a block away. The sun was shining, my spirits were high and there was an empty swing. Thank god for the empty swing. Things went well in the swing. It worked. He swang. He was happy. The birds were singing. I think I even saw a rainbow. OK…maybe not, but the mood was magical. Until a nanny came along and placed a baby in the empty swing next to us.

It was an innocent moment. A cute little baby in the swing. What a sweetie. Jack didn’t think so at all. The moment that baby butt hit the swing Jack decided that he wanted that swing and he didn’t hesitate to let everyone know this. The nanny quickly offered us the swing, but against Jack’s wishes, I said no. That’s right I asserted my power of NO. Jack hated that answer and kept insisting that we take the swing, but I know my Jack and I knew that the minute he got that swing he would want his old swing back and then LET THE GAMES BEGIN. Well, I didn’t feel like playing. I took one look at him sobbing in the swing and realized that I was suddenly “that mom”. The mom who’s kid is freaking out.

I’ve seen many of “those moms” before. Each handle their freaking out child differently. The mom’s I adore are the one’s who don’t break their backs trying to make their kid happy. The mom’s I can’t stand, but try to feel some empathy for are the one’s who take the other swing and bend over backwards just so their precious little angel isn’t unhappy for even a moment.

So, here I am at the playground and Jack is freaking out over the swing. Every parent and nanny on that playground whipped their heads around like the Exorcist to see who was freaking out. It was as if Jack were the first child on the playground to pitch a fit. And here comes my big, proud mommy moment. Drum roll please………I scoop him out of the swing and tell him that his behavior is not OK. I then walk him to a bench and tell him that he needs to sit there until he has calmed down. Thank you. Thank you very much. Well, he didn’t calm down and we sat there together on the bench. Him screaming. Me eating pineapple slices. Slurp!!!!!!!!!! Man was that some delicious pineapple.

When I thought that he had calmed down enough and had moved past his desperate sorrow over the swing I told him that he could get up and play. This made him reminisce about the swing and the tears started flowing yet again. So there we sat. Time ticked on. A hawk flew overhead. OK maybe it was a pigeon. Children went running by. Street cleaners cleaned the streets. Still we sat. Every time I thought that Jack could handle getting up that damn swing entered his mind again sending him into a tailspin. Why oh why were swings invented???? To torture young children and their parents I tell you. If they aren’t waiting for one they are getting hit by one. If they aren’t getting hit by one they were wishing that they were. It is a vicious cycle.

Finally, I had had enough. The clouds arrived. The sun was gone. The temperature dropped. I was done. I wanted to go home. I told Jack that if he didn’t want to play that we were leaving. He didn’t want to. We were leaving. Or at least that’s what I thought. Jack, however wanted to stay and continue to wallow in the sorrow of the swing. I tried the good old 1, 2, 3 Magic routine. It wasn’t working. Jack was screaming and every adult on the playground was still staring. So, I picked him up and removed him from the playground.

Do you know what he did next?? He lost it completely and smacked me in the face! I couldn’t believe it. I had become the parent who’s kid smacks them in the face. Maybe those m&m’s he sometimes has for breakfast have ruined him. Maybe I breastfed him too long. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it, but there was no way in hell that I was going to take it so I plopped his butt down on the nearest bench, got down on his level, took both of his hands in mine, and in my best “teacher voice” told him, “You do not hit! You are in a Time Out until I tell you you can get up.” Then I walked a few feet away.

Jack wouldn’t be Jack if he didn’t test the situation.  Maybe he will be a master tester.  Maybe he will ace his SAT’s all because I made him sit in Time Out.  Hmmm.  Well, that boy got up off of the bench at least three times and each time I picked him up and without a word put him back on the bench.  Supernanny would be so proud.  After I felt like I properly tortured him enough I got down on his level again and reminded him why I put him in Time Out.  I then told him I loved him and that I understood that he was having a bad day.  He let out the loudest and saddest sigh.  SIGH…………………….

I would like to say that we walked out of the park peacefully that day, but we didn’t.  When Jack realized we were actually leaving the park the shrieking started again.  This time I just picked him up and he got to show off how flexible he was by arching his back as far as it would go.  It was really quite impressive.  Maybe Circue de Soleil will recruit him one day.

 As we left the other mothers offered me what I like to call “The Sad Face”.  You know the face. You pull the sides of your mouth down and basically look sad. You do this as an act of solidarity towards the mothers whose kids have either fallen or are having a fit.  I have to say that I appreciated those looks.  I didn’t feel at all judged for how I handled the situation.  Sure people were looking, but I like to think that they were just curious about how I was going to deal with the tantrum.  I’m sure some of them were judging me, but it didn’t bother me.  I will admit that I have judged other moms.  I wish I could say that I haven’t, but that wouldn’t be honest. Judging other moms makes you sometimes feel better or worse about the job you are doing as a mom yourself. It’s simply human nature. I think we all judge one another at one time or another and if you can stand there and say that you haven’t than 1: You are full of Shit! or 2: You should be hailed the most enlightened mother on the face of the planet by Oprah herself!  And if you are wondering why I picked Oprah it’s because she knows everything. Duh!

I am definitely still learning and am not trying to put myself out there as the mom who does no wrong. I do plenty wrong, remember the m&m’s, but I like to focus on the things that I do that are right.  It’s better for the ego that way.  Eckhart Tolle would also be so proud.

Thank you for listening.  You can applaud now.

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Filed under Eckhart Tolle, Oprah, playground, tantrums, time-out

This Pretty Much Sums It Up

These stop signs in my neighborhood pretty much sum up what I think must be going on in Jack’s head these days.  I am always conflicted when I approach these signs as well.

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Filed under Uncategorized

I Have Now Entered the Twilight Zone

That’s what it’s been like around here for the past week.  The Twilight Zone. Doo Doo Doo Doo. I have entered another dimension of parenting.  It is a dimension I have never been to before.  No one warned me about this dimension.  I’ve never seen it written about in all of those parenting books I have dutifully read.  All I can say is WTF? 

The past week has been full of indecision. What socks to wear? The red or the green? What pants to wear? The soft ones or the jeans?  What shoes to wear? Jumping shoes or fast shoes?  All of these decisions have brought on onslaughts of tears and sorrow. True sorrow…it seems.  Never have emotions come and go so swiftly.  One minute death cries and the next hysterical laughing. I am pretty sure that I am now living with a crazy person.  Yep.  Pretty sure.

I have had moments when I have actually Googled “over the phone psychiatrists”. I wonder if they make toddler Zanax.  Hmmm.  If they did I might actually consider giving it to this poor kid.  Maybe I’m the one who needs the Zanax.  I truly do feel like I have slipped through some rabbit hole into a weird world where everything is upside down and inside out and no one can make up their mind.

Every decision Jack makes seems to be bringing him to the edge of sanity.  The poor guy.  Imagine every time you put on your shoes you were OK with your decision for about four minutes and then you felt the utter need to change them and then you change your mind again and then the stress of the whole situation leaves you in a crumpled heap on your couch crying your eyes out.  Hmmmm.  Kind of reminds me of pregnancy. 

I have never seen such sorrow over such trivial things.  And it’s not like I am giving Jack a bunch of choices either.  My mom said that I should limit the choices I am giving him, but I am not giving him a choice of shoes or pants or socks.  I am picking out clothes, putting them on his body, then stepping back while he flips out.  I have also tried letting him pick out his own clothing to wear to see if that would help.  Maybe he just doesn’t like the things I am picking out, but having him choose on his own is even more painful to watch.  It is like asking him to choose what kind of ice cream he wants while showing him twenty-five different flavors.  Even I break down when having to choose what ice cream flavor to get.  I guess that’s why I always choose chocolate chip mint.  Why put my self through the pain of wishing for some other flavor.  The flavor of regret never tastes good.

This swing or that swing? This slide or that slide? Chocolate or vanilla? Almond milk or regular milk?  Oh my god!  I just want to scream, “Make up your mind already!” I was never truly aware of all of the choices we make on a daily basis.  And again, I am not offering these choices to Jack.  He seems to be putting this pressure on himself.  It’s making me sad for him, but at the same time I am feeling pretty sad for myself because every part of every day now seems twice as long and full of tears.  I don’t feed into the tantrums and I am not bending over backwards to please him, but it is really exhausting to watch. 

I really hope he can’t find his way out of this phase fast because I don’t know how much longer I can last.  I am trying to be patient.  Really I am.  I was an elementary school teacher for thirteen years.  I always thought that I was pretty patient and that that patience would make me a perfect candidate for motherhood.  Was I ever wrong.  You can reason with a ten year old.  Hell, you can have awesome, intelligent conversations with a ten year old, but you can not, under any circumstances, reason with a two year old.  And if you think you can then you are simply delusional. End of story.

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Filed under choices, ice cream, Twilight Zone, Zanax

My Mini Review of The Runaways

I realize my last MomsenseNYC Facebook status was a bit misleading. I couldn’t help quoting a wonderful Joan Jett song “Bad Reputation” because I did make it to the theater today to see it and that status update made it seem like I was going to talk all about Joan Jett. Sorry. That’s what this post is for.

I was pretty excited to be out of the apartment on my own and even more excited to be going to see a movie. Was I super psyched to be going to see The Runaways? Not really. I wanted to see it, but I wasn’t expecting to be blown away. And….I wasn’t.

The story of Joan Jett’s beginning with The Runaways was a great idea. I’ll admit that I have never had a real hunger to learn about Joan Jett’s early years as a musician, but I was curious. I was born in 1972 and missed the 70’s Joan Jett. I do remember the 80’s Joan Jett, but never felt truly affected by her music except for the fact that I seem to know most of the lyrics to her more popular songs.

I was even more curious to see Kristen Stewart’s portrayal of her. I am not a huge Kristen Stewart fan. I do think that she has talent however. Anyone who has seen the made for tv movie “Speak” cannot deny that Kristen Stewart can act, but most of the characters she plays are kind of quirky and have this strange “I’m super uncomfortable being me” characteristic. Joan Jett was definitely not uncomfortable being herself.

I think that Kristen Stewart had moments during the film where she “let go” or “let her hair down” or truly forgot that she had cameras on her and began to actually act. But there were so many more uncomfortable moments when Kristen was still being Kristen (I think) and not Joan. It wasn’t until the last 30 minutes of the film that I saw her really fall into the character.

Dakota Fanning on the other hand was quite shocking. She absolutely stole the movie. What I couldn’t stop thinking during the entire movie was how beautiful she had become and how grown-up she was. Gone was the little girl with the space between her teeth and the braces. Dakota Fanning was pretty convincing as Cherie Currie the lead singer of The Runaways whose battle with addiction ended her rock star career pretty early on and caused her to leave the band after only making three albums.

The main storyline in the movie definitely was the rise and fall of Dakota’s character Cherie Currie. It completely overshadowed Joan Jett’s story and it made you feel like the movie should have been titled “Cherie Currie and the The Runaways”. I really wished for a more in depth look at how Joan Jett came up with the lyrics to her songs and more personal information about her life and what drove her to become a rocker.

All in all the movie felt pretty long. I enjoyed the scenes where the band was performing and the girls did a great job singing. I did find myself moving in my seat with the music, but come on it’s Joan Jett. She is a great song writer and it is so obvious why her music is so well known. What I think I will remember from this movie is Dakota Fanning’s performance. No offense Kristen Stewart. You did wear your eye liner well and your hair was spot on.

Will I Netflix The Runaways? Probably not. But in some ways I did enjoy it. I’m just happy I only paid the matinee price.


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Filed under Cherie Currie, Dakota Fanning, Joan Jett, Kristen Stewart, Netflix, The Runaways


A day off! A day off! I am getting a day off! Please excuse me while I do a little dance. {{**}}***///\\\{{}} OK, I’m done. Thanks for waiting.

Today Jack and Dan are off to Queens to visit his parents and I have half the day to myself. I know that this has happened in the past, but I never properly take advantage of the time I get off. I usually spend my time laying on the couch watching The Doctors and worrying that the pain in my leg is definitely cancer. Then I move on to Rachel Ray and wind up getting so hungry that I eat all the leftovers from the night before. I then top off the morning with The View and spend the hour yelling at Elisabeth and rolling my eyes every time Barbara Walters rolls hers. My time off has also been spent washing giant sinks of dishes consisting of many glasses and plastic cups with plastic straws.

By the time I actually get the motivation to take a shower my husband is typically calling to tell me that he has just crossed the bridge and will be home in mere minutes. Agghhh. I then race to shower or skip it entirely and quickly dress in wrinkled clothes that I pull out of my dresser at the last minute. We then drive around while Jack sleeps in his carseat. That kid takes the best naps in the car. Put him in his bed. Nope. No nap.

Today though, I will not lay on the couch. I will not wash a dish or fold laundry or clean the toilet. I am going to shower at a reasonable hour and get out of the apartment before noon.

I am going to the movies. That’s the plan. The movies and a stop in Barnes & Nobles to leisurely browse the new paperbacks. The Runaways, the story of Joan Jett, starts at 11:15 at Lincoln Square and I will be there with my giant popcorn, that I won’t finish and my super large Cherry Coke, that I will also not finish. I will sit in the 4th row and put my feet up and sigh a wonderful “I’m at the movies sigh.” Sigh………

Yes! I have the day off.

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Filed under Cherry Coke, day off, dishes, Joan Jett, laundry, movies, popcorn

It’s a Beautiful Day but I Am Inside

It’s another day.
Another day of waking up at 1:45am to the cries of “Mommy! Mommy!”
Another day of waking up again at 5:15am to the cries of “Mommy come here!”
Another day of aches and pains in my shoulders and lower back because I slept on the extra bed in Jack’s room after the 5:15 wake-up call.

After the reliving the same morning I had yesterday I hoped to get out into the sunshine and live it up with Jack.  My plans were big.  We would pack a great lunch and snacks and head out to the park where we would be explorers and climb the big rock.  I would cheer Jack on as he went down the big swirly slide and I would push him so high on the swings that the tips of his toes would hit the tree branches.  Yes, today would be great.  A good old-fashioned New York City day.

This is what really happened.
After the real wake-up at 7:00am Jack insisted that he stay in his crib. Yes, I know.  He’s 2 1/2 and still in his crib, but what can I say?  He likes it in there.  It’s like his own personal cave with his twenty-five stuffed animals and ten books and thirty blankets.  I know that most kids at this point have climbed out of their cribs, but it hasn’t even occured to Jack to do this.  He once put his leg up over the side, looked down at the floor and re-thought that idea.  He is also sleeping the in the death crib.  You know, the one that was recalled last year because the drop-side front could trap a child and kill them.  Yep.  That’s right.  We have Jack in the death crib. Well, the drop side of these death cribs are taller than today’s sleigh cribs so it’s harder for kids to climb out. Anyway, since he’s still in his crib he is at least  not getting up and leaving his room at 1:45 in the morning to come and be awake in our room.  I’m still not sure if this is better or equal to the hell I am putting my back through by often going into and then sleeping in his room at all hours of the night.

All right back to the story.  So, he won’t let me take him out of his crib, but he starts throwing a fit if I try to leave the room and I know right then and there what kind of day this will be.  After twenty minutes I manage to talk him out of his crib with bribes of breakfast on the couch and Curious George.  But noooooo.  Jack has other plans.  He wants to lay in my bed and watch some TV and no, he is not hungry.  I gave in pretty quickly.  I was exhausted after all and I thought that maybe I could grab a little more sleep in the comfort of my own bed.  Yeah right.  That didn’t happen.  Instead I spent an hour keeping Jack from kicking our poor geriatric cat, Jabba, and from kicking me in the face.  I know what you must be thinking.  Why didn’t I just get up?  Good question.  I don’t know.  I was so tired and my back hurt and I just wanted five more minutes.  That’s all.  Five lousy minutes.  I didn’t get them.

At about 9:00am we emerged from the bedroom.  I couldn’t take another second without coffee and Jack’s diaper was beginning to leak so we were forced out really.  I made the strongest cup of double espesso on the planet and gave Jack his breakfast and went back to planning our fabulous day outside. The snacks were made.  The shovels and other toys were packed.  The camera battery was charged.  I was showered.  Thank God!  I was ready.  Jack was not.

He pronounced to me that he would not be going outside.  He would be staying inside he told me.  He also told me that I should go out without him, which actually sounded pretty good.  My toes are screaming for a pedicure and some time alone would be nice.  But no!  I couldn’t do such a thing.  So, what did I do?  I tried everything I could to talk him into going outside.  I talked about the giant bubbles we would blow and the long worms we would find in the dirt.  I told him how he could be the swing champ and the king of the playground.  No dice.  The kid wasn’t budging.  I even tried picking him up and forcing him outside.  This only made him cry and then I wanted to cry. So, I put him down and we went into the living room and we sat on the couch together.  I gave him a hug and asked him what he wanted to do.  Do you know what he said?  Read.  That’s what he said.  He wanted to read books.  My heart melted and I picked him up and kissed him ten times.  My guy.  My reader.  A little piece of me did get in there somehow.  I was so proud and so weepy at the same time.

So, how did we spend this gorgeous New York day??  Inside.  That’s right.  Inside.  We read books.  We played with puppets.  We blew bubbles.  We built towers and knocked them down.  We watched some TV.  Jack took a nap.  I read a book.  We ate lunch.  We ate pudding. (My poor thighs.) We hugged.  We laughed.  We had so much fun. 

We didn’t take advantage of a beautiful day, but we took advantage of each being able to be with each other and play and have a great time.  And I am so glad that we did.  I just love my guy.

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Filed under curious george, New York City, playground, pudding, puppets