Category Archives: parenting fails

epic failures as a parent who tries… but doesn’t always win.

mommyhood, parenting fails

Parenting Fail #2351

4 Comments

Tonight, we had some friends over for dinner. Hubby had been working on a bolognese all afternoon, and we were all really excited. As usual with tomato-based sauces for dinner, we took the kids clothes off before they got their food. (Anyone else try to save laundry this way?)

When everyone was finishing up, we started taking dishes to the sink, cleaning up a bit, and sipping the last sips of our wine. I look over at J, still in his high chair. His hands are hidden behind him, and he says, “Poop!”

My friend Andrea and I look at each other. Did he just say “poop”? I get up, and realize his hands are behind him, in his diaper. I look at his hands. There’s a questionable substance. In my head, I’m going back and forth: Meat from the sauce? Poop? I can’t tell. Should I smell it? Oh gosh, I don’t want to deal with it if it’s poop. Do I just dump him in the tub? Out loud, I say, “Oh no. Please don’t be poop. Oh God… I think it’s poop! RYAN!”

You guys, praise the Lord for husbands who save the day. Hubby saves mine almost daily, but this takes the cake (at least this week). He scooped J up and took care of the poop problem. What a guy.

Moral of the story: If I hadn’t taken his clothes off, he probably wouldn’t have been able to touch it. Blerg.

Anyone else have a recent poop story to share? I know we all have them sometimes. PLEASE tell me I’m not the only one!

mommyhood, parenting fails

Parenting Fail: Brand New Third Kid Edition

4 Comments

I’ve got a funny little story for you. It happened during D’s first two days of life. It’s just a little bit of proof that nobody has it all together, and nobody knows exactly what to do with their newborn. We were still in the hospital, in fact, where things should be totally fine, because there are a hundred people around to help me care for my son. Right? Sure.

  
Hubby had just left to go get some lunch and install the infant car seat so that we could go home that evening. I was pretty excited to have a few minutes with no visitors, so that I could maybe catch some zzz’s before going home to the madhouse (which honestly I’m excited about, because obviously I miss my kids and I love the family and friends that will be going through our revolving door over the next days and weeks to meet baby D).

So I settled into the bed, with a hiccuping D, to try to snuggle him to sleep. We both had full bellies, so I figured we’d take great naps. D had other plans. He decided to poop. Totally fine. I know the kid needs to do that… especially to get the first few (extra yucky) poops out. I heard it happening, waited what was surely an appropriate amount of time for him to finish, then stood up to change him. I wanted to hurry because, duh, I wanted a nap.

I undressed him and took off his diaper gingerly, then started to wipe him off. As if I had hit a magic button, the kid starts to pee. He’s a tiny baby… how much pee can be in there, right? Well, he pees. Then he pees some more. Somehow, it’s as though a sprinkler has turned on. Pee on me, pee on his first outfit ever, pee on his face, pee on the four blankets in his little crib/changing table/cart. He was literally giving the room a shower. Finally, it subsided. I had to use an entire pack of wipes getting the pee off every inch of his body (and my arms) and had a whole bag full of laundry when we were done. He was beet red and screaming his head off, basically looking at me like, “Mom! How dare you let me pee all over myself like that!” I know, kid. I also wish I hadn’t let you do that. Especially because he got a little red rash across him that he hadn’t had before his epic pee. Must’ve irritated his sensitive skin. What a guy. 

So if you’re ever having a third kid, and you’re like, “I’ve got diaper changes in the bag!” or “The hospital does everything for you while you’re there!” then beware. You just might be in store for a classic “I forgot newborns did that” moment. It’s tough to remember the exact joys of having a day-old baby until you’ve got one. Hello, sweet little fuzzy baby, who pees on everything. 

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, parenting fails, women

He Will Come Through

5 Comments

This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

 After a particularly difficult day with my three-year-old (that wasn’t helped by a fussy one-and-a-half-year-old who thinks it’s time to learn how to throw a proper tantrum), it was finally bedtime, and I was exhausted. I could tell the kids had had enough of me, and I had had enough of them. I hate those days that I haven’t done my best. I wasn’t the best mom to them. I didn’t use the kindest words or have the most patience – or honestly, much patience at all. The fun things I planned seemed to go awry almost immediately. Meals I prepared weren’t liked. The way I tried to fix problems didn’t work. Everything just… sucked.

After my son was down in his crib, I went into my daughter’s room. I said, “You know that I love you, right?” Head nods… with a smile, even! “You know that even when I’m angry or I’m sad, I still love you?” More nodding and smiling… then a jump into my arms.

Y’all, I couldn’t buy that forgiveness. I couldn’t buy that redemption from my difficult, beloved daughter at the end of a crappy day. I melted, tears dripping into her hair, thankful beyond words for the most perfect example of “forgive and forget”. She reminded me that though I fail, I’m still her mama, and she still wants and needs my love.

Just like her forgiveness, I also needed forgiveness for a failed day. My sin was so heavy, weighing on my mind and my heart, and my guilt was even worse. I needed a forgiving Father to smile and nod and tell me He still loved me, too. I hit my knees at the end of that day, begging Him to drag me out of the rut I couldn’t get out of on my own, begging for a reset of my attitude. He comes through, y’all. If you let Him, He comes through. It’s not easy, and often, it’s not pretty. But He comes through.

mommyhood, My Big Jesus, parenting fails, siblings

My Son’s First Haircut: A Total Toddler Travesty

7 Comments

This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

These things happen, they say.

You’ll look back and laugh about it, they say.

Well, I cried about it.

We had just come back from a quick overnight trip to the mountains. We had mostly unpacked, the kids were playing with their toys we’d left behind (because 24 hours away makes them seem new!) and Hubby and I both had some work to get done. While he started getting ready for his gig, I retreated to my computer to do some work for my service on Sunday. I was probably out of the room (the living room… where everyone else was) for about seven or eight minutes total, when I came back through the house.

EK saw me coming and happily shouted, “Mom! I’m cutting Jophiss’ hair!”

I wasn’t alarmed yet. She often took a plastic toy knife and sawed away at her own or her brother’s hair, jabbering on about haircuts. But I quickly saw that this time, there was no pretend sawing happening. My pink-handled scissors from the kitchen drawer were being used to strew my son’s perfectly virgin curls all over the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized what couldn’t be taken back: he had just received his first haircut. No little ceremony, no taking pictures, no sweet, little-boy ‘do resulted from this experience. Just a jagged chunk taken from over his left eye. And now? Nothing left to do but just take that line all the way across his forehead.

So sitting in the floor, tears blurring my eyes (safety first!) I took the blasted scissors, and finished the job. Of course, he figured he didn’t need to sit still for me, so it took a couple of tries to get a semi-straight line of “bangs” across his big noggin. (I want you to know I’m still crying a little as I write this.)

 A couple of days later, we’d started to get used to his new look. At least we didn’t have to swoop the bangs over to get them out of his eyes, right? Anyway, one evening J took a big spill and bonked his forehead on a door, right between his eyes. After I got him calmed down, gave him some Tylenol to ease the blow, got him snuggled in my lap and his whimpering stopped, I only had one thing to say. I looked up at my worried mother-in-law, who had helped me get him calmed down, and said, “Well, if EK hadn’t cut his hair, we wouldn’t even be able to see his giant bruise!”

 Because making light of a stressful situation (even by making fun of a previous stressful situation) can dispel that tension and get a giggle out of even the most concerned grandparent.

home, mommyhood, parenting fails

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Evening

12 Comments

I apologize if this seems a little ranty. I might not even publish it after I write it, but sometimes writing things makes me process them, and therefore makes me a little less stressed.

Tuesday was a pretty great day. We got up, ate some pancakes, which I totally failed… tried to make something up on the fly. Usually I’m good with improvising pancakes, but I just screwed up the consistency and had to add Bisquick to them just to make them cook properly. At least they were eaten? Ha! Anyway, after that, we packed up to visit Hubby’s mom, who the kids haven’t seen in a little while. We had a fun time just playing and relaxing at her house, and EK ended up staying with her for lunch, while Hubby, J and I came home for lunch. It was a nice treat for all of us. When Hubby had picked her up, both the kids were so pooped they went down for early naps, and we worked in the garden while they slept. We the got ground ready for the third bed we’re starting, and weeded in between all the beds. It was great progress, and there’s just something that feels good about working with your hands in the dirt.

When the kids woke up, we played outside for a few, got nice and dirty, then came in for baths before dinner. Nothing out of the ordinary. Hubby cooked dinner (while I randomly felt really sluggish. Maybe the sun took it out of me?) and when we served, EK basically decided she was going to act like a one-year-old. She was trading bowls with J, eating with her fingers, spreading it all over the table, and not really eating much. After encouragement to eat like a big girl, pointing out how well J was doing, and even saying we’d go downtown to get gelato if she finished properly (glad J doesn’t quite understand that yet or he’d have been mad) she still didn’t eat much, and just sat in three different chairs for the last 8 or 9 minutes at the table. My hormonal self was totally over it. I know she can do so much better, and than made it even worse.

After dinner, we cleaned up a bit, and let the kids play in the kitchen while we were in there – they love that. J had an old baby food jar that I’d saved (I reuse them when I make my own food) and ended up breaking it… all over the kitchen floor. So, of course, we commenced making sure children don’t get cut, and the mess gets cleaned up, which really meant me vacuuming while Hubby kept the kids out of the way in the living room. Once again… totally over it. 

Finally, mess was cleaned up, and Hubby could get ready for work. Kids starting fighting over every toy in the room, so we sent one downstairs and kept one upstairs. I was trying to finish up the kitchen and start a load of laundry, and Hubby finds out he’s locked his keys and his spare key in the car he needs to pack with speakers, instruments, et al. Fabulous. We call the locksmith while I’m finishing up laundry, and I realize that at the bottom of the stairs (where we throw the laundry down) there’s water on the floor.

Water on the floor? Who cares? Me. Because right above it is the master shower. Which had been “fixed” during the renovation. Fabulous. Just enough water to make the drywall warp just a tad. So naturally, I just say, “Screw this day.” and turn on the TV so at least the kids are quiet till bedtime. I knew I couldn’t handle any other sibling arguments or tears because “someone else has the toy I want.”

Basically, I was ready to call it quits on life. Between motherhood and homeownership, silly mistakes like locking keys in the car aside, I was so done with dealing with things. I didn’t want to think any further about any situation. I wanted to zone out. Cue the time that I’d normally pour myself a bottle glass of wine. BUT OH WAIT – I can’t, because I’m so pregnant I can’t believe I forgot about it for a minute.

So, instead of getting even more frustrated that I was dealing with everything painfully sober, extra large and continually uncomfortable, I decided to say, “Whelp, shit happens.” and just move on. So I snuggled the kids up in their pjs, sent them off to bed – which, by the way, took over an hour total, which never is the case because my kids typically love to sleep. But hey, don’t forget my new motto: Shit happens. (Anyone else feel like it’s always the nights you’re doing bedtime by yourself instead of with your spouse that it seems to take the longest?) But about that time when I started to pull my hair out, wondering when the super-sleepy kids would let it go and go to sleep, my babysitter showed up! Oh yeah, I was going out tonight, with my sister-in-law, to hear Hubby play music! It was my night to put on a clean blouse, my wedges, and LIP GLOSS, Y’ALL! I was beside myself with excitement, so I handed over the monitor (which of course was quiet, because babysitter, right?) and got ready to go.

The reminder and the mood shift was all I needed to just relax and call it a day. I have to remind myself over and over that it’s okay to take a time out, to just call it. I need to be reminded that I don’t have to be perfect, the shit does indeed happen, and it’s even okay for me to get upset or cry about it. That just makes me human. Or maybe it makes me hormonal, but that’s me right now. It sometimes takes a the ability to completely leave the situation to get over it. I didn’t really think about it again after I was able to just move on and be somewhere else.

mommyhood, parenting fails

Never Do That Again: A Pondering on Threenagers

Leave a comment

Never is a big word, friends. I try not to use it. Its permanence and irretrievable negativity make me nervous. But the one time I do use it, I’m okay with: Never do that again.

 When I’m talking to my daughter, and she does something that scares me, hurts me or someone else, or is just plain offensive, I tell her to never do it again. And then I explain why.

For example, a couple of weeks ago, we were meeting some friends for lunch at our favorite bagel place. I had parked and gotten the kids out before our friends had, so we patiently waited for them to get out of their car, cross the aisle, and meet us. Well, I was patient. EK suddenly pulled way from me, and ran across the parking lot aisle to be with her friends. AND THERE WAS A CAR COMING. Thank God the mother in the Suburban was closely watching and didn’t hit my kid (maybe because she had had a kid who ran out in the road in the past) but I was frantic. I was angry (about as angry as I’ve ever been) and scared and angry some more. I was obviously glad she was fine, but that almost took a backseat to the fear she made me feel when she pulled her hand from mine and took off.

When I had crossed to her, I knelt down, took her face in mine, and made her look at me. I told her how she should never do that again, because it was dangerous, she could’ve gotten hurt, she scared me, she scared our friends, etc. She knew I was serious, I thought. She didn’t cry, but I could tell by her face she was listening and at least partially comprehending. My heart slowed down a little, and we went and had a nice lunch.

Coming out of the restaurant, we were hugging and high-fiving on the sidewalk with our friends, making plans for the next time we’d see them. We had almost gotten to our car when EK decided to make a second round of running around the parking lot. I ALMOST LOST IT. This time, there was no car, and anger was much more than fear. I finally got to her, pulled her over to the car, and made her stand right there while I put J in his car seat. Then, I made some sort of country threat (straight to my roots in a moment of primal fear) like “I’m gonna tear your butt up if you do that again!” in a way that totally lost its “oomph”. I thought about spanking her right then and there, but settled (wisely) for pinning her down in her car seat, closing the door, and taking a deep breath.

Where had I gone wrong to make her think she could do that? How had I not taught her better? I’m a broken record with the “We always hold hands in the parking lot.” (Note to the mom: Always is a concept much like never. If she doesn’t get one, she probably won’t get the other.) I’ve warned that streets and parking lots are dangerous places and told her repeatedly to be careful. I mean, I’ve literally held J like a football to prevent him from getting to the ground for takeoff. But there was obviously a fail somewhere along the way.

I guess she didn’t understand the concept of “never”. It’s a hard one, to be sure. But she didn’t understand. I was just her mom, telling her what to do, just like 25 other times already that day. Why should “Always hold my hand.” and “Never run from me like that.” be any different? Giant light bulb for me: my threenager doesn’t understand obscure concepts. Duh.

How do I make my threenager understand the difference between something serious and something that doesn’t matter as much? Between something dangerous and something I’d just rather her not do? Tacking “never” on to the front of the sentence obviously won’t do it. It doesn’t hold the weight for my daughter that it holds for me. Why? Because she’s three. I can’t remember that and repeat those words to myself enough. She’s three. She’s only three. It’s because she’s three.

Maybe she’s just three, and I’m just trying to be a good mama.

mommyhood, parenting fails

Parenting Fail #9337: Peeing Outside

5 Comments

This week, we’ve been visiting my parents in Georgia. They have a pool in the backyard, so my kids have been in and out of it since the moment we pulled in the driveway – literally. We got out of the car, and my parents were chilling on the porch, so of course my kids walked over, saw the pool, and flipped out. It was about 8:00pm, but still light out (summer!) so we just stripped them down, put on their Puddle Jumpers (If y’all don’t know about those, they are lifesavers. No pun intended.) and let them jump in. It was a nice stress release after a looooooong drive. Anyway…

So my kids have been spending lots of time out on the porch, or in the driveway, or walking laps around the house, checking out the nature scene. They’ve also been doing a lot of not really wearing clothes (once again, summer!). I mean, J in a diaper and a shirt, or EK in just her undies, it’s been hot, who cares?

So yesterday afternoon, we were all out on the porch, and EK had gotten out of the pool and gotten back into just her undies. She was playing with some magnetic letters, and all the sudden I look over and this is happening:

 She’s squatting, watching herself pee, right through the undies, right onto the deck. I just started laughing so hard I couldn’t even tell her to stop! My friend Lauren looked over, and started laughing too, and when Hubby came back outside, I was still laughing so hard I could barely speak. I had literally asked her if she needed to go potty less than five minutes before that. I was a little disappointed, but it was too hilarious for me to care much. Especially because she was proud she’d watched herself go…

 This whole potty training thing has been one of the most entertaining things I’ve ever done with EK. And she’s communicating more and more, so her bathroom commentary is hilarious.

Have you ever had a hilarious potty training fail? Tell me about it!

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, parenting fails

Parenting is a tough gig.

2 Comments

This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

Some days, parenting can be tiring, lonely, annoying, or just plain hard. Yes, it can rewarding, beautiful, hilarious, and heartwarming, too. But some days, it’s just a tough gig.

 There are endless bottles to make, diapers to change, naps to protect, blankets to find (or wash), stuffed animals to love on, toys to pick up, laundry to do, tiny shirts to fold, and matching shoes to locate when you’re trying to leave the house. There are moments of sheer exhaustion hearing the 28,562nd question from your toddler, or waking up the fourth time in the same night with your infant whose sleeping has regressed. There are moments of, “I’m totally fed up!” when your little nurser just won’t take a bottle from her Daddy, or when your toddler’s twelfth tantrum of the day just pushed you over the edge. There are times that you pack up and go to the grocery store when you don’t need anything, because you might run into an adult you know, and be able to speak in complete sentences without being interrupted.

I know there are days (like today, in fact) that I want to lock my kids in their room, turn on some loud music, drown myself in ice cream, and have a few minutes that I’m not hearing them bicker over toys, or cry because they’re tired but won’t nap. Do I do that? No. But that doesn’t mean the thought never crossed my mind. I also know that when they’re in middle school, or when they’re teenagers, I’ll have days like that for different reasons. Forgotten homework, squabbles with friends, discipline problems at school, attitude problems and messy bedrooms could all be contenders in the race to make a mama crazy. I’m under no illusion that once all my kids are wearing underwear instead of diapers and going to school till 3:00 pm, my “problems” are over.

But I also know that I love my kids well. They know I love them, that I’m there for them, that I’ll dry their tears, kiss their boo-boos and sing them a song (that I made up, about a car driving by, at the request of my daughter). They are secure in that, even on my bad days, when I just want to plop them in front of the tv, and zone out. Or when we have cereal for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. We survive those days, the kids and I, and I dare say we aren’t any worse off for it. Because hey, being a parent is no joke.

mommyhood, parenting fails

No Pull-Ups During Naps: Parenting Fail #397

14 Comments

Today, my daughter took a nap. Unremarkable, right? She took a nap. No big deal. But let me back up.

We’re in the throes of potty training. EK’s wearing big girl panties about half the time, and a pull-up or diaper the other half. She’s not sleeping in underwear yet, of course, so for today’s nap, Daddy didn’t find any diapers in her room (you know, because she’s only wearing them half the time, and we’ve only just moved her down to her new room), and put her in a pull-up. Most of the time, this wouldn’t present a problem; it holds pee fairly well and we change her directly after her nap every time. But today, when she woke up and came upstairs, she had a massively gross pull-up, which had gotten on her pants a bit, so Daddy cleaned her up, and let her run pantsless while I went downstairs to retrieve the underwear. (And then he ran away to “help his dad with something.” Yeah right, Daddy. You must’ve known what was coming…)

When I got to her room, I noticed two things: 1. There were wipes all over her bed. 2. It smelled awful. These are two bad things, that when put together, are truly terrible. The massively dirty pull-up had also caused a problem in the bed, which EK had so graciously tried to clean up before she came upstairs. Mess. Was. Everywhere. Every single item on her bed needed to go straight into the washing machine on the “hot” cycle. Y’all, I am not kidding. My heart started beating faster as I tried to not smell anything.

I bundled the wipes up (including the ones spread all over a book, which is now soggy and half-ruined) and threw them in the trash can, and started stripping the bed. I carried several loads of pillows, sheets and the waterproof (thank God) mattress cover to the laundry room (thank God we have a laundry room now! Ahhh!) to start the process of cleaning up. I sprayed everything with stain remover, switched the laundry over (because of course, something was already in the washer AND in the dryer) and put in the first load. Y’all, how did it happen?!

I know how it happened.

My kids sleep like tornadoes. And when they finally do find a resting place for the majority of a sleeping session, it’s typically a strange one. For instance, EK likes to sprawl across all her pillows, instead of have her head on a pillow and her legs down. She sleeps up against the headboard of the bed 90% of the time. Hence poop on the pillows. (Sorry. You should’ve known there might be a gross detail or two.)

Back to the clean up… Now my pantsless daughter is upstairs, so I call her downstairs, just to get her side of the story.

Me: Did you get poop on the book?
EK: No.
Me: Did you get poop on the pillows that are on the floor?
EK: No.
Me: Did you sit down before you came upstairs?
EK: …..

And now I’m freaking out about the BRAND NEW CARPET.

Trying to keep my cool, I remember she’s still pantsless. I start to help her with her underwear, and notice she doesn’t seem to have been cleaned up well. Then, I notice there’s a little poop on the inside of her shirt. “Oh well,”  I think. “Daddy must not have noticed it.” So I take her shirt off, and now I see the poop on her back. I start to clean it off, and a thought pops in my head. “If Daddy didn’t know all this had happened down here, I’m sure he didn’t wipe her hands off. HE DIDN’T WIPE HER HANDS OFF!” And then, I start freaking out about how many things she’s touched since the initial accident, and where all the poop might be and how I’m going to find it/clean it off, and then I’m all, “Screw it. It’s bath time.” J just happens to be lurking around the corner, trying to decipher and smell and the ruckus, so I toss him in, too. Clean babies, right? Right. Babies who are never wearing pull-ups during naptime ever again.  

mommyhood, parenting fails, things toddlers say

Things Toddlers Say (and Do)

Leave a comment

 There’s a word my daughter said for weeks before I truly understood its meaning. J and I both have humidifiers in our rooms, and she kept pointing to them, asking if she should turn on the “fire”. At first, I thought this was because you can see the mist/vapor coming out of it, and she was associating “smoke” with “fire”. I finally figured out that she was muttering a syllable before “fire” and it was really just an attempt to say “humidifier”. Mom fail.

Overheard in the kitchen this morning…
Hubby: What do you want to listen to?
EK: Rock and roll!
Hubby: Don’t have to ask me twice. (Puts on Pink Floyd.)

Me, seeing EK search through the junk drawer: What are you looking for?
EK: I gotta put some chappick on.!
(I’m sure everyone with a kid knows why I hide my chapstick – I don’t want spit on, rubbed into everything, and then turned up into the lid irrevocably.)

First thing in the morning, when EK climbs in the bed with us:

EK: (to Hubby) Wake up, silly boy!

Upon receiving some Lucky Charms I had bought for St. Patrick’s Day:

EK: I’m gonna eat all the ush-minnows (marshmallows) first!

And now, for my other toddler, who might not use many words yet, but can sure as heck do silly things…

That’s our living room floor – covered in metallic Sharpie. EK never misused the art supplies unless she was tattooing herself. Our son, however, skipped art supplies and went for the same junk drawer mentioned above… and proceeded to give our Pollock-esque floor a little Picasso. Alas, it probably isn’t the last time. FYI though, nail polish remover got it off our vinyl floor!

What has your toddler said (or done) recently that’s worth a laugh?Does your kid do a little art on nontraditional materials?

everyday mom link up