Not a Link Up
But not a real post, either. I am severely blocked. Or perhaps just really busy and really tired and confused when I look at the blank space before me in Blogger and think about perhaps putting something in there to fill it up. I kind of forget how to write, and definitely how to write things that are not lists. I can do lists still, but not paragraphs full of sound and cogent arguments. I can probably muster up a complaint/gratitude litany of some sorts, too, but I doubt anyone wants to read that.
So, a list.
1. I am so bad at responding to comments. Seriously, it’s embarrassing, because on the one hand I LOVE getting them and I eagerly lap them up like a lonesome puppy when my iPhone dings with the arrival of another bit of cheer from the outside world in my inbox…but I can’t seem to keep on top of responding to them. It’s a hideous intersection of introversion + a reluctance to reply directly on the comment chain itself + inefficient little chunks of time in which to craft some semblance of a coherent reply worthy of somebody’s eyeballs.
So. I end up sitting down for 43 minutes one random night in the week, banging out 17 or 30 replies straight, pat myself on the back and feel a huuuuuge sense of accomplishment, and then realize that well over 50% of those replies I just sent went to “[email protected]” or something like that, and then part of my soul withers because I just spent 20 minutes emailing the black hole of the internet and wasted valuable emotional energy on non-persons. Moral of the story: link your email to your comments, pretty please. And look the other way when I reply to you 5 days late and out of left field, causing you to wonder what you may have even said in the first place. Prettier please.
2. So. (That’s an inappropriate way to begin a sentence. My honors english teacher is rolling her eyes in disgust right now, somewhere out there, because I no longer excel and grammar, nor do I even properly execute most basic grammatical rules.) So.
3. I yell at my kids. A lot. I’m trying really hard to curtail the shrewing that goes down around these parts, but it’s a painstaking gain of inches each day. I must say that when Joey tells me “Mommy, you scared me with your scary voice” I find new motivation and new levels of parental guilt I could not formerly access. Thank you, tiny son, for showing me the ugliness of maternal vs. offspring throw downs. I’m trying to moderate my decibel level. Maybe you could moderate your destruction level?
4. This baby sleeps awesome still, provided that I consume no dairy and no beer. She lets me know from both ends, immediately, how very deep her disapproval is of both substances, and so I’m on a weird tequila, lara bar and asian food kick these days. Hoping she’ll mature out of it, but also hoping that the baby weight finds its way out the door a little quicker as I gulp shots of black espresso and look longingly at the box of fudgecicles in my freezer.
5. And now to wake both toddlers up from their naps prematurely to trot down to the dentist’s office for a friendly afternoon appointment. My first foray into semi-public (does the grocery store count? Or restaurants?) solo con tres bambini. We shall see. And we shall probably wail, but perhaps not gnash our teeth, because I’m not sure dentists approve of such behavior.
|Probably she’ll kill me when she’s older. Just killing (nap)time.|
Your replies are always the best, and I’m amazed at how often you DO reply! And oh my goodness, I can totally relate to you oldest keeping you in line. No one stops me in my tracks faster than Therese. “Be nice, Mommy! Be nice!” I almost cry just thinking of it!
Jenny, I have not been to the dentist since Evie was 8 months old, and that was when Tim was with me! My excuse has been that I need to go sans kiddos, so you are pretty much Super super mom for going with your kids! And is it wrong to thank you for divulging that you yell? If I could watch a video tape of myself yelling at my kids I would be incredibly scared and scarred for life. So awful. I’m trying and trying to work on it and it helps to know others are too.
Here’s hoping you can partake of beer soon!
You’re doing an awesome job. Three babes was an adjustment for me and I still have to work on the not-infrequent yelling. And I have yet to take my kiddos to the dentist, so you’re waaay ahead of me on the bravery scale.
[email protected] Catholic Mama
I’m super impressed you are taking kids to the dentist with you.
I can relate to number 3..a lot. Parenting is HARD.
I had to laugh out loud at #3. Because currently, the back of my throat hurts not from a cold, but from LOUDLY advising someone via threats to pick their half-eaten banana off the couch. I’m sure my neighbors are so glad that I parent this way, so that they are informed of every hot button topic going down in our apartment.
Oreos are dairy free!
Ugh. Just yesterday I was wondering if it were possible for the neighbors to hear me yelling – not one of my better moments, clearly. And the dentist? Every few months I remember that I should maybe set an appointment for the kids (and myself) but it still hasn’t happened. Good luck!
I don’t even expect bloggers to reply to comments left for them! Not at all, it is just there for you to enjoy, people comment because they want to…I never even thought about expecting a reply, but maybe that’s just me! Anyway, don’t feel obligated for mine 🙂 I’m on this awful dairy free kick too for Owen! I hate it!! I never knew how utterly weak I would feel when cheddar cheese is staring at me as I cut slices for my children at lunch time. Or the lack of yogurt and CRAVING milk chocolate. I’m ashamed at how hard this is for me. I mean really?!? I keep telling myself to get a grip. It’s not working. I just end up gripping the edge of the countertop. And you are going to the dentist ALONE with all three already. You are amazing.
No reply necessary :). Just wanted to comment which i rarely do, though I read often. I so enjoy whatever you write, your rome stories, takes on tv and music, your days with charming kids, whatever. I hope you are able to just enjoy your time with your sweet new little lady and write again when you are ready.
The English Major
This is overdue, as I read this a few days ago, but I had to respond about the yelling thing. I have completely felt that guilt. How is it I can keep going on, even when I hate being yelled at?!? It is so hard, especially after a baby (as I’m sure you know well) to be rational and calm. I try (try being the key word) to consciously remind myself that this mess, or whatever crazy thing he or she just did, is not the worst thing in the world, really. It just feels like it. It can be cleaned up, and they are more likely to cooperate if I don’t totally flip out. Which I do, all too often, but when I don’t, we can usually work through it without anyone having a major meltdown. Anyway, I have no idea if that made sense, so I will leave it at this. I’m praying for you, and you are of alone in this mothering thing, even though it probably feels like it sometimes. And don’t worry won’t replying. Comments are like thank you notes. You don’t have to respond to the gesture, just accept it!
The English Major
Okay,that should be: you are not alone in this mothering thing, etc. Dang. I hate typos. Also, don’t worry about replying. Blast the ipad autocorrect. Or maybe I should just proofread…
drawing from your current list making:
1. i never (okay, very, very rarely) comment on blogs of people i’ve never met in real life because i think it’s so awkward. granted, i also don’t know how to respond to people i DO know in real life’s comments on my own blog either. so i apparently really relate if i felt compelled to step out of lurkdom.
2. my kids have oh so painfully highlighted all of my flaws and shortcomings, mostly by modeling my behavior. it’s a slow process of growth, but on the bright side, maybe if we get it all out when they’re really little, they won’t remember it.
3. i was actually going to try to email you because i really enjoy your blog and wanted to gush a bit of admiration, but alas i couldn’t because, although it’s probably clearly posted on your page, i couldn’t find it. so now i have this quasi public rambling to show for it. i consider my occasional late night blog commenting to by my daring mommy equivalent to drunk dialing. sorry.