Author: Doser3

Extension of Life

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Watching my boys grow is when I see him the most. At night, when Davey is acting silly or trying to squeeze in that one extra minute of playtime before bed is when I’m most reminded of him. Or the days when Henry is smiling so big and proudly reaching for my necklace, that’s when I know he’s still with me. It’s bittersweet sometimes because I would give anything for to be able to see his face again, to be able to see him watching my boys grow. I see him everyday in both of my boys and I’ve even found myself from time to time slipping and calling Davey by his name.

Nine years ago today, my parents and I sat in a hospital room at Northside Hospital in Atlanta, GA and prayed for what we hoped would be a cure or at least an extension of a life that was being cut much too short. Most people were panicking that day about the fact that they had waited until the last minute to file their taxes. We were panicking because we were unsure if the bone marrow transplant would even take.

A couple of days earlier we sat and listened to the doctor talk about concerns that the leukemia would come out of remission before he got his bone marrow transplant which meant he couldn’t have the transplant. I sat there and looked at my brother, who for the first time since he was first diagnosed with this horrible disease, showed genuine fear in his eyes as he asked, “does this mean I won’t get my transplant?”

Each year when this day comes around, I’m haunted by those words and I think back to the tortured look on my parent’s faces as they stood resolute and told my brother he would get his transplant. I look at my boys and I think about how wonderfully blessed our lives are, but also how quickly they can change in the blink of an eye. In the day to day frustrations of trying to raise a toddler who’s standing firm in the Terrible Twos and a 4 month old who’s eager to start mimicking in his older brother, I often take for granted that I’ll have the next day with my two healthy and happy boys.

My brother did get his bone marrow transplant on April 15th, 2005. By January 3rd of 2007, his leukemia was back and there was no longer any hope of another transplant. We prayed to God on that warm April morning and asked Him for an extension of Brian’s life. He answered our prayers, perhaps not giving us as long as we wanted with Brian, but He did extend his life.

Tonight, as I rocked Henry to sleep, I found my mind drifting off to my brother again and the significance of this day. I saw Brian in the sweet quivering of Henry’s lip, something he does a lot before drifting off to sleep. And before I wrote this blog, I saw the playful, yet mischievous nature of my brother in Davey as he decided he wanted to climb onto the back of the couch and try to walk on it like a tightrope. My brother is everywhere. He’s with me everyday, but I’ve never noticed it as much as when I became a mother to two boys who are mini-me versions of one of the greatest men I’ve ever known.

Twinkle Toes Doser

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We’ve all had a desire to pursue some other path in life. Mine has always been to be in a musical, but only as an extra who dances just because my singing is cringe worthy. It’s almost like running your fingernails down a chalkboard. It’s bad, but I always thought it would be really neat to be a dancer in a musical. They’re always so elegant and sexy and classy and entertaining AND you can burn some serious calories (dancers always have some of the best bodies). Well, today I quickly found out that any dream I ever had of being an extra on Broadway or the next making of “Footloose” or “Grease”, has been snuffed out.

In my effort to lose 10 more pounds before the summer, I’ve decided to take some classes at the Y. Today offered up Zumba and it was my first official experience in this foray of exercise. At first, I thought how wonderful this would be. I could fulfill that life long dancing dream. How hard could it be? I mean I’ve been dancing my entire life and right now both of my boys seem to really be digging on my Mommy Moves and Grooves, which has me concerned about their eyes. How could they possibly enjoy what they are seeing especially if it’s anything like what I experienced for an hour this morning?!?!?

For those of you living in a hole for the past decade or so, Zumba is a dance exercise that combines mostly Latin dance moves with some low and high impact cardio workouts. There’s a lot of the samba, the shuffle, the hips twisting and shaking, and even a few spins and a cha-cha or two thrown in for good measure. There’s not much of a break between the songs as you jump right in from dance to dance and move to move.

First off, my hips don’t lie, but unlike Shakira, my hips have been telling me for quite so time that I have to rhythm. I suppose I’ve been living in a box for a while because I always thought I gyrated my hips quite well when the beat kicked up, but then again I’m never standing in front of a mirror the entire time either. I literally wanted to slap myself for doing this in public.

Second, I’m a stiff! Not like a Divergent Stiff, but a stiff when it comes to dancing. I lack grace and a lot of it. Picture a taller version of the “Elaine” from Seinfeld, but throw in a couple of trips when I should have been sashaying. I’m a disgrace! I’m worse than Billy Dee Williams on Dancing with the Stars! I can’t believe I ever danced in public (of course at that point I’d had some liquid courage so I was oblivious to how awesome I danced).

I don’t know what was more exhausting, though. Literally trying to keep up with the instructor or mentally trying to figure out how to raise my arms and shuffle my feet at the same time. I’ll do it again, if for no other reason than the facts that it’s a good calorie burner and I’m sure to provide comic relief to the class. On the plus side, I now have yet another way to embarrass my boys in public. Dun Dun Dun!

But it’s pretty safe to say that I will NEVER be a dancer which really saddens me. I’d always kept that in my back pocket. 🙂

Like Mother, Like Son

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That just doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t flow off the tongue as smoothly as the old adage, “Like father, like son”, but alas my sweet boy is growing up to be more like his mother everyday. I’m not too terribly happy about this especially considering the fact that he’s really only picking up on my bad habits and traits. I was hoping he would avoid this side of me.

I’ve said this before, I’m not a patient person. Shortly after Davey was born I started to think I was turning the corner, that perhaps this patience virtue that had avoided me for nearly my entire life had finally come home to nest within my personality. I found that I could be patient with him, that I could guide him, teach him, encourage him and do it without a single point raise in blood pressure. I was actually doing quite well with it until the Terrible Twos hit BEFORE he was actually two.

Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of behavior in Davey that really seems to mirror my own behavior, or at least the behavior I know I had when I was a child. Davey is very competitive and in a lot of cases eager to please. He wants to win the races. He wants to beat the timer. He wants to answer the questions correctly, but when he doesn’t he seems to throw a bit of a tantrum. And unfortunately, when he doesn’t do what I want him to do, I’ve noticed that my patience seems to hit a boiling point with me. I’m quick to try not to let him see this behavior in me, but I know I’ve slipped.

I try to not let him have my iPad, but instead encourage him to play with traditional toys. He he only gets my iPad when I’m nursing Henry and need some quiet time, but that time doesn’t really seem to be quite so quiet.

He has a few apps he enjoys playing, one of which is to put together a puzzle while trying to beat the timer. If he can’t do it, then he hits the iPad and starts screaming. I’ve been told this is a normal reaction, but I’m not so happy with it especially since it seems to be a part of my worse side. When he plays basketball, if he doesn’t make the basket, then he stomps his feet and screams at the goal. If he’s playing with his trains and one goes off the track, then he has on occasion picked it up and thrown it. This whole behavior is not something I was hoping to see in my little boy.

If he’s losing a game, then he screams and knocks the pieces off the board. If he can’t get a puzzle piece to fit, then he starts screaming and crying before tearing apart whatever part of the puzzle he’s already completed. This is all me, or at least it was me, or maybe it still is me. Yikes!

I try to reason with him, but it’s like trying to reason with a terrorist…you can’t, which only makes my patience run low and I have to find a way to contain my screams! I’m sure I’ve let a scream or two slip with Davey especially when he’s doing something I don’t want him to do. I’ve gotten better at really taking a step back and counting to 10, but truthfully I feel Davey’s pain. It just feels so much better to let it all out.

I guess I should try to find other ways for he and I to both express ourselves and our frustrations. I don’t want people to avoid him because they fear he’s too emotional and flies into a rage (which has happened to me in my adult life, but in my defense I was in my final month of pregnancy with him during a very hot and humid summer down South). Is this just a phase or something much more deep seeded? I’m going to go with Option A and think positively that he will grow out this horrible trait I have. And hopefully, he’ll do it soon because there’s really only one room for a Drama Queen in this family…and I’ve owned that crown for much too long.

Welcome Back to Corporate America

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I know I’m not the only stay at home mom who’s had days like this. They’re the kind of days when you daydream about your old life. The days when you think about the money you used to make. The days when work was left at work and once you walked into the door of your home it was a whole new world. The days when you were paid to put up with sh*t instead of being literally covered in it for free. Please tell me I’m not the only one to actually consider going back to work just to escape my 24/7 life as a stay at home mom. Please?!?!?!

I attribute part of it to the fact that I’ve suffered through round 2 of the dreaded stomach flu in less than 2 weeks. I attribute it to the fact, that not only was I unable to eat, but I was spending every 15-20 minutes in the bathroom for myself and then another 15-20 minutes with my toddler while potty training him (or attempting to). I blame it on the lack of sleep which has affected my lack of patience. I point a finger at my husband’s job which seems to have him working 20 hour days and traveling overnight. I basically blame it on my ability to get too easily overwhelmed.

I spent Wednesday night crying, not just crying, but sobbing. I found myself asking, “is this really the life you want, Amy?” I started perusing online for jobs that I was qualified for and began worrying about whether I would even get a job after taking a 2 year hiatus. I started thinking about the military wives who have husbands away on tour for months on end. These moms have to raise their children on their own and yet I’m complaining about having a bad day. How pathetic am I to gripe about my life? Yeah, I went down that path too.

When I started looking for jobs, I started feeling conflicted. Do I really want to go back to work? Do I really want to miss out on my boys growing up, their adventures, their firsts? I’d be taking the easy way out and what would all of those other stay at home moms think about me when they saw I couldn’t cut it? Yep, I started thinking about that stuff too.

My patience had entered a whole new realm with Davey, one that I’d never tried to navigate before and one I’d hope I’d never have to go down. I yelled at him on Wednesday, not once, not twice, but three times for stupid petty little things. Maybe I should go back to work!

Henry refused to be anywhere except in my arms. Davey refused to have Henry anywhere except AWAY from my arms and the darn dog nearly caused me to break my neck multiple times because she needed her share of attention too and was constantly under my feet. Why must everyone be so needy all at the same time????? Is this really the life I chose for myself?

Well, yes, it is. Wednesday was only two short days ago, but I’ve managed to FINALLY move past the stomach flu, although I’ve entered the allergy continuum. I’ve managed to get some sleep, not spend nights hugging a toilet. I’ve managed to actually develop some level of energy which means no more putting Davey in front of the t.v. because I feel too terrible to do anything with him. And putting him in front of the t.v. has only made me feel worse about my parenting duties.

So, I’ve since tabled my grand plan to walk back into Corporate America like the less scarier version of Joan Rivers. I’ve since taken a breath and looked at both of my boys and sat in awe of who they are. I’ve since reminded myself that my life is blessed not cursed and I’m on a path that was destined for me, chosen for me, and one that I can and will endure and love even during the bad times, at least until the next time Murphy’s Law decides to knock on my door and knock me off my feet.

But you want to really know what has gotten me through? My Bible and the stories of Joseph who was sold into slavery by his brothers and the entire book of Job. And in the words of Gloria Gaynor, “I will survive.”

Mommy’s Little Helper

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I’m a big advocate of having chores for kids to do. I had chores that ranged from cleaning the bathrooms, to emptying the dishwasher, to mowing the grass, and even getting up on Saturday mornings at 6 am during the summer to pick beans, okra, squash, and tomatoes in our garden. My parents instilled the importance of hard work and the need for chores and responsibility into me at a young age. It’s made me into the person I am today.

I’ve read a lot about assigning chores to your kids, when you should do it and what they should be. I haven’t put much stock into what I’ve read, but I have found that Davey loves to help and if I can turn the chores into a sort of game or competition then he’s on board.

We keep a stool in our kitchen specifically for Davey so he can help with everything from putting dishes up in the dishwasher (usually it’s just the eating utensils minus the knives), to wiping down the counter and even helping to cook/make his own breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Putting up the utensils makes for a fun game of matching and mixing up the batter for the pancakes gives him a sense of accomplishment.

Last week, I raked leaves up in our backyard. Davey, being the eager little helper that he is, grabbed his own rake, and followed suit. He then helped pick up the leaves and toss them into the lawn bags and even managed to pull a few bags over to the fence for easier disposal. I told him he didn’t need to, but with his eager and willing eyes he said, “I help too, Mama.” Made me smile.

He loves to vacuum and dust. Give this kid a Swiffer duster and he goes to town all while creating his own little song! I love it. He makes up his bed, puts away his clothes, and even manages to read to Henry while I’m nursing him. What a helper!

Recently, he’s begun doing laundry. Ok, ok, don’t worry he’s nowhere near the laundry detergent and we don’t have any of those pods which can be confused for candy with kids. What he does do is separate out the laundry, and with his trusty little stool, loads up the washing machine. I’m just amazed as to how much he loves doing this stuff.

And of course, he has his own little lawn mower, so that he can “help dada mow grass.”

It’s not that I’ve purposefully tried to push chores on him at a young age. I ask him to clean up his toys before going down for a nap or getting something else out to play with. Usually, I must help him with cleaning up the toys, but he does put forth the effort. I know this is and will instill in him the same core beliefs and strengths that molded me into the person I’ve become. I know it will make him understand a sense of responsibility at some point down the road. At this point, I’m just tickled pink he loves “helping” so much. I just hope he loves to help this much as gets older, because like it or not he WILL “help”. I’ve already begun daydreaming about my relaxing days ahead when he and his brother will be responsible for mowing the grass and taking out the trash. And let me tell you, this Mama won’t be cleaning up their bathroom either. It’s bad enough I have to clean up after their daddy! I’m not touching their bathroom with a ten foot pole!

Right now, Davey loves to boast that he’s “Mommy’s Little Helper”. I’ve even contemplated getting him a shirt made like that. Perhaps I’ll have a shirt made for him each year with that slogan so as to perhaps “embarrass” him into doing his fair share when he finally decides it’s not quite so cool to do chores. Evil or genius? Whatever it takes. 🙂

Best Education

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - General2 Comments

I spend the better part of my days as a mother pondering my children’s education. Yeah, I have a 2 & 1/2 year old and a 3 month old, so I know it’s a bit early. Yeah, I’m aware that when their father and I were kids, there wasn’t as much pressure to put children into K2, K3, and so forth. Here’s the thing, though, I don’t want my kids to just have what their father and I had. I want them to have so much more and to be so much more, not that we turned out bad.

Each day, I spend some time in prayer over what to do. Should I homeschool the boys or should I send them to private school? My husband and I have pretty much agreed on the fact that they will not go into public school for various reasons of which I’ll get to later. I’ve researched a lot of homeschooling options and I’ve asked questions of others who have homeschooled their children. It’s a daunting task to consider and frankly I’m a bit terrified of it.

I have a total of three degrees; an Associates in English, a Bachelors in Communications and Political Science, and a Masters in Business Administration. I am a self described nerd who would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life going to school and getting various degrees. Not that getting any more education would necessarily improve our household income, but learning new things and studying is almost like a hobby for me, but having all of this education doesn’t necessarily mean I’m equipped to teach my children.

I’m horrible with math. I despise it with a passion, that and all things economics. I don’t handle our finances, not because I’m not capable, but because I just loathe it. Math and economics are two of things that pretty much stumped me all through school. If I don’t understand it and I’m no good at it, then how can I teach my boys? Well, there are options such as online classes and homeschool co-ops.

Private schools cost a lot of money which means I’ll need to go back to work, something that I’m still teeter-tottering about. And even if we send them to private school, their education isn’t fully in my hands. There are still people they will encounter and standards to meet; standards that I don’t necessarily agree with. This whole Common Core thing that seems to be sweeping our country is not something I agree with and I’m not on board with my child being taught this way, much like I was never on board with the “No Child Left Behind”. Will my boys really get the best education if I put them into some type of classroom setting?

And finally there’s the whole sex scoundrel, pedophile thing that really concerns me. Just a couple of weeks ago, an elementary school principal from Georgia was arrested for soliciting sex from underage girls, and by underage I’ve read it’s more like 10-12 years of age! How do you explain something like this to your child? How do you explain that people they should trust at school, really are just immoral slugs? Apparently, it’s not just public schools either as locally there’s a former coach from a private Christian school who’s been accused of sexual misconduct with a minor. So, this issue isn’t just for the public schools.

There are just so many things to consider with their education and I’m hoping the Lord will open my eyes soon or let me see what I should be doing. I want my boys to grow up well rounded, good kids, with strong Christian values…the Christian values being a big sticking point. They deserve the best and these days the best isn’t found within the public school system, at least not for my boys.

I’m curious…how many of you out there homeschool your children? How many of you send them to private schools? I have one website to visit about homeschooling…www.hslda.org. I’ve started perusing through it and I’ve even started following a few Twitter feeds. If you do homeschool your kids, what advice could you offer to me?

Success

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - General1 Comment

14 years ago, I sat in a Modern Political Theory class at Clemson University. I had just two more semesters left to go before graduating with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Speech and Communication Studies and Political Science. I was already studying hard for the GRE (Graduate Record Exam) and had eager aspirations of attending the University of Maryland in order to get a Master’s Degree in Political Communications. From them on, I was going to attain a job at the State Department and possibly get myself a job somewhere overseas. Then and only then would I consider my life to have been a success. Needless to say, my life didn’t go down that path, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been a success.

14 years ago, the thought of a husband and children was not a part of my life’s dream. It didn’t seem to fit into the equation of the goals I’d set for myself. Plus, at that point in my life, being a wife and mother was just ho hum. It was average and there really wasn’t anything spectacular about it. I needed more than just average. There would be no success story found anywhere there, or so I’d told myself.

The past few years of my life have helped me to change my view of what success really is and I’d like to share it with you all, especially for you other mothers out there who are perhaps not doing what you thought you would be doing with your life years ago. I do have my Bachelors Degree from Clemson University and I did manage to go to grad school, albeit not at Maryland, but through Webster University and it wasn’t in Communications, but instead Business Administration. I’m not exactly using any of my degrees at this point, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a success.

I’ve met quite a few mothers who feel that they need to find a way to balance it all in order to be successful. Many of my friends still feel that having that illustrious career is what makes them successful. They feel that the world judges them because they are women who have children and a career. But, here’s an idea…maybe your children could be your career and you could be just as successful at it or more so than at some corporate America job.

The past couple of weeks I’ve found myself reflecting upon my life and the choices I’ve made…where they’ve led me and how I feel about the end result. And here’s what I’ve found, my life is more successful now than I could have ever imagined stationed at some Embassy or political post overseas. How have I come to that you ask? Well, here are a few examples of how I measure success, especially as a stay at home mom to a 2 & 1/2 year old and a 2 & 1/2 month old.

Last week, Davey met one of my former colleagues from my days in Corporate America. He reached out his hand, shook her hand and said, “Nice to meet you.” Success! I have a very well mannered son.

Davey saw another child crying over the weekend at a rugby game. He walks over to the child and says, “It will be alright, would you like to play with Davey?” Success! He’s empathetic and concerned.

Davey walked over to his friend at church on Sunday and began singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star with her and even held her hand. Success! He’s learned the words to the song and is such a happy little boy to sing along with his friend.

Every Tuesday morning that I take Davey to school, he immediately walks over to his teachers and hugs them both. Success! I have a loving child.

Every Tuesday that I pick him up from school, he tells all of his friends goodbye, taking the time to hug each one of them. Success! He’s a friend to all.

At every meal, he doesn’t eat until he’s said the blessing and thanked the Lord for what we have. Success! He’s learning the importance of thanking God.

And at least once a day, I’m asked to read Jesus to him, which means Davey would like a Bible story. Success! He’s learning about God!

These are only just a few small examples of what makes me feel successful not only as a mom, but as a woman and as a person in general. I don’t make tens of thousands of dollars and there are days when I feel like my job as a mother is just a complete failure, but when I see my son, outgoing, loving, smart, and well-mannered, I know I’ve been a success. When I see his smile every morning (and Henry’s too), I know that I’ve been the most successful person I could ever be. I’ve birthed two beautiful boys, both inside and out, and I’ve managed to mold them into children who will become successful adults as well. And again, their success won’t necessarily be measured by awards and dollar figures, but more about the character and integrity they have as young men.

I am a success.

Our Life

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When Davey was an infant, it was pretty easy to have quality one on one time with him. Sure, we juggled having quality time with each other, but my husband and I easily found the time for Davey. Adding another little Doser into the fold, makes one on one time with each boy tricky.

Since my husband works 10 plus hours a day, even travelling overnight, it’s become increasingly more difficult for him to find time with each one of his boys. Davey usually got his quality time with daddy in the evenings and at bed time. My husband always bottle fed Davey and would put him to bed every night he was home. There were times I would sit downstairs and listen to my husband talking to Davey and sharing stories with him through the baby monitor. It melted my heart when Davey first started talking and finally said the words, “night night, Daddy. I love you.”

Henry; however, hasn’t gotten the same amount of one on one time with Daddy, but I’m ok with that. My husband? Not so much and he’s working to remedy that. We bottle feed Henry at night just so that we can be sure as to how much food he’s getting, plus I’ve found it’s easier for me to keep him awake when bottle feeding. He sleeps better, which means we all sleep better. Well, for weeks I was responsible for Henry’s bedtime, the complete opposite of how it was with Davey. I told my husband that at this point, Davey realizes a lot more than Henry does and Davey needs his Daddy more than Henry, at least at this point. Davey was and is more aware of when Daddy is and isn’t around. And for those few weeks, I’ve enjoyed my time with Henry.

I would rock him in the rocking chair in his room, with nothing more to light the room than the little night light, and any outside lights that manage to creep through the slits of the blinds. It was and is peaceful in his room and I never really knew how much I was missing when my husband was responsible for Davey’s bedtime every night. I love to stroke Henry’s head, to talk to him about his day, to tell him nursery rhymes, to dream about the future and what he’ll be. Mostly I love telling him stories about my brother, the uncle he’ll never meet. I love watching the shadows on his face and the sucking sound he makes while eating. I love how he tries to hold onto the bottle, how his eyes flutter open, and how he scrunches his toes when he eats. I love how he coos at night while eating and the deep sighs he has when he’s full and has been burped. These are little things I really didn’t get with Davey.

Last week, my husband came up to me and told me that he’s been feeling guilty about the time he spends with Davey and not with Henry. He told me that he wanted to have the same routine that he had with Davey. Of course, he tried to sell it on me by saying that he would take care of both boys at bedtime. Henry goes down at 7:30 and Davey at 8:00. I didn’t need to be sold on it, although I was losing out on something I’d come to cherish and enjoy. It was the right thing to do since I have the boys all day. I conceded, after all how many children out there are growing up without a Daddy? How many children do not have a father who’s willing and eager to spend so much time with them? So, my husband has officially taken over his roll of bedtime Daddy.

I usually bring Davey upstairs shortly before his 8:00 bedtime and put his pajamas on him. Then I enjoy a book or two with him before his Daddy comes in to finish up and tuck him in. I still sneak in to see Henry, to caress his little head at night and kiss him.

I’m thankful and blessed every day to have such wonderful boys in my life and an amazing husband who can’t think of anything happier than spending time with his family. It’s been two months, and we’ve finally hit out groove and routine with both boys. It’s a family life I’ve dreamed about. It’s almost romantic. I can’t think of anything more wonderful or magical than the life God has bestowed upon me. I am lucky and I know it.

Happy Valentine’s Day

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We don’t really go all out in our house for Valentine’s Day.   At least, my husband and I never did in the past, and we really don’t now, but since we had Davey, I’ve found the holiday to be a lot more enjoyable.  

Last year, Davey made his first officially Valentine’s and sent them out to my husband’s family who live in NY.   It didn’t require much effort from him, but was fun for me.   You can check the archives to see what we did last year and perhaps use it as a template for what you could make as well.   I know it’s a little late now, but it’s good to save for next year. 

This year, I went a little bit further for Valentine’s Day and actually braved the world of toddler painting and allowed Davey to paint his gifts.   I bought wooden heart frames at A.C. Moore, red washable paint, a couple of paint brushes, and some stickers.   I spread out the newspaper to protect the kitchen table and put a towel in Davey’s chair and let him go to town. 

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After allowing the frames to dry, he put then put stickers on.   I had to restrain myself as he put the stickers on haphazardly, after all this was his project and not mine.   My part was to find the perfect picture, which can be hard to do when you have a two year old who is constantly saying, “no cheese, Mama,” each time you pull a camera out. 

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Fortunately, I found the perfect picture made better by the fact that I converted it into black and white.   Tuesday they were dropped off into the mail before our “epic” snowstorm hit and my in laws received them yesterday!   Perfect timing.  

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So, from the Doser household to yours, we hope you have a wonderfully loving and relaxing day with your Valentine(s).  

A Battle of the Strong-Willed

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I’m not going to lose and I’m not going to cave in. I am the parent. I am older. I am wiser and frankly my will and determination are greater than that of my 2 year old, or at least I hope. No wait, it is greater. I will win this battle.

How do you parent a child who is exactly like you? How do you discipline and teach a child who is as hard-headed, stubborn, smart, and strong-willed as you are? I don’t know, but you better bet your Uncle Ronnie’s britches that I’m going to find out and I’m going to do it. I will be the victor.

Lately, Davey is refusing to take naps, to listen to me and my husband, and to behave. Frankly, he’s becoming the spawn of Satan! Last week, while he was suppose to be taking a nap, he instead decided to climb on his dresser, the one thing we don’t have bolted to a wall. Of course, the dresser toppled over on him. We went to the doctor and there were zero injuries. Hopefully, my name wasn’t flagged by the doctor to report to DSS for child endangerment. I ask Davey what was he thinking? What was he doing? He’s remark to me with the most sweet and innocent eyes, “I don’t know, Mama.” Great! He did; however, tell me that he was interested in making his own steps so he pulled the drawers out, staggering them, and tried to climb them and that is why the dresser fell over on him. The kid has ingenuity. I will give him that!

“Davey, did you learn your lesson?”
“Oh, yes, Mama.” And then the next day, I caught him trying to climb MY dresser!

Most days our lives consist of the following:
“Davey, don’t touch that! It will burn you.”
“Ok, Mama.” And then he starts reaching for it again.

“Davey, please don’t climb on that rocking chair. It could flip over on you.”
“Ok, Mama.” And he continues to stand in the chair, draping over the back of it as he rocks harder and harder.

I don’t want to be a so-called “helicopter mom”. You know what sort of mom I’m talking about! Heck, some of you probably ARE helicopter moms. I don’t want to hover over him. I know he will have injuries and I know he must learn on his own, but really? Why is it so hard to just do as I say? Can’t you just understand that everything I’m doing is in your own best interest and I’m not talking just to hear myself speak? Ugh!

I’ve always sworn against the backpacks with the leashes for kids. I’ve always thought they were demeaning and belittled children, not to mention the fact that they seem to take away the child’s sense of dignity. These days? I’m not so concerned about how they make Davey feel. I don’t have the ability to chase after him while carrying a 12 pound infant in a baby carrier. I’m not Wonder Woman, for crying out loud. If wearing a leash makes you feel like a dog, my son, then perhaps you shouldn’t run around like a dog thus forcing me to use the intrepid leash!

Mr. Independent can do everything on his own. “I do it, Mama.” “No, Mama, not hold my hand.” And all of this is occurring as I’m trying to drag him out the door or down the street while his legs have become like wet spaghetti noodles. I actually had to tackle him last week at the gym just so he wouldn’t run out into the parking lot. When I got up with my hysterically laughing child, I was immediately met with looks of shock and consternation from the senior adults in the gym. What I must look like to them! And did their children NEVER do this? According to the glares I was receiving, “no” their children NEVER behaved this way.

We are learning the importance of at least holding mommy’s hand while crossing the street, but not the importance of still taking a nap. Important in the aspect that I NEED some quiet time from the Terrible Twoodler and that really he’s just a better child in the evenings. I will; however, win this battle as well.

Before having children, I used to count the minutes on the clock until it was 5 and I could go home. Now, I just count the minutes on the clock until my husband gets home and even then I’m much too exhausted to really be any fun.

So, as another day is wrapping up, I’m once again faced with a non-sleeping toddler and a 2 month old who doesn’t want to be anywhere except tied to my breast! Oh, I know I will look back on these days with much love, but right now this mama could do with a little respect and R&R.