Tag: museums

Global Warming and It’s Threat to Me

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Let me preface this blog post with the following statement.   This is meant to be a satire.  Very few scientific or factual theories will be covered under this post.  It is not meant to be an attack against any group or to be offensive, so for you eco-friendly, tree hugging, mother earth loving individuals…relax.   Go chew on some wood bark but only from a tree that was not destroyed by capitalist pigs in their ongoing effort to stifle our environment.

Global warming.  What is?  Well, let me give you a basic definition.  It is a gradual increase in temperature of the earth’s atmosphere attributed to the greenhouse effects caused by increased levels of pollutants in our air.   A lot of scientific mumbo jumbo, with a lot of credible experiments to back it up.   Me?  Being the Christian I am, I think it’s all part of God’s plan, and this plan is causing serious problems for me, especially in the arena of being a stay at home mom to two boys, with an overly hot summer thereby limiting them to outside usage and increasing my downward spiral into a state of insanity.

This summer has by far been the worst.   A few summers ago we dealt with so much rain that we had our own personal riverview in our back yard, an anomaly for someone with no rivers within a five mile radius.   Last summer I thought it was hot, but at least we had some rain from time to time to cool us off.   This year, as many of you who live in the South are aware, we are desperately lagging in the rain gauge, couple that with days in the upper 90s, a heat index in the 100s, and this mama is about to go code red bonkers.

When I was growing up, my mom just kicked us outside.   We played all day long, sometimes at our neighbors’ houses, but mostly in our own backyard.   We drank from the spigot or the hose, ran around in our bare feet, and caught lightning bugs well past our bedtime.   That was the summer of my youth, but the summer of my boys’ youth?  We’re burning gas (damn us for contributing to the greenhouse effect) as we’re on the road to various museums, water parks, and pools.   We’re inside because by 9 am it’s already so hot and humid that my children are crying about the heat.   Heck, I’m crying about it too.  It’s keeping me from having an enjoyable summer.

I can’t just kick my kids outside, thank you very much, global warming,  because you have made it nearly impossible for my children to be the same outside kids I was.   Some days I feel like we’re living on Mercury, unable to walk outside otherwise we literally melt from the suns radioactive heat.   Global warming is literally ruining my children’s summer and my romantic version of being a stay at home mom.   I loathe it almost as much as I loathe Hillary Clinton, sometimes I see it as just as dangerous to my livelihood as Hillary.   Global warming is forcing my children to be pasty white, much unlike me at their age…golden tanned.  Global warming is also turning my boys into pansies.  They whine at the least little amount of heat.

I do; however, feel genuinely bad for my boys, or maybe it’s just my mom guilt disguised as empathy.   I don’t want to be outside during the day.  I get up at 5:30 to run just so I can beat the heat.   The pool water isn’t refreshing.  We feel like we’re in an oversized communal bath tub, and there’s zero shade.   There’s nothing refreshing.  I feel bad leaving them in front of a television or with an iPad, but hey, there’s only so much entertainment a mom with a business degree and no original desire to have kids, can offer.

Another threat with global warming…we’re all gaining weight.  Why is that?  Because once again it’s just too damned hot to be outside.  We instead veg out inside watching movies and of course eating snacks.   Personally, I don’t need the weight gain.

Global warming is an epidemic of huge proportion.   It must be stopped, it must be reversed.   Me?  I’m too lazy, and it’s much too hot ouside, to really do anything about it other than write this blog post to complain about how much it’s ruining my summer.   Global warming has quickly moved up on my list of enemies, Hillary Clinton still being number one.

Oh, global warming, how I would love to slay thee.

 

Survival of the Fittest

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

It’s a motto used by athletes and intellectuals all across the board.  Celebrities use it, common folk use it, politicians use it.  Once upon a time, I even used it.   These days, I don’t know how much stock I actually put into the words.  I’m getting older, a lot less bolder, and I just want to make sure that I can survive the raising of my youngest child, regardless of who’s the fittest.

Davey has become a lot easier these days.  He sasses me more than I’d like, but he’s also settling down more and becoming a bit of an asset to me (if children can be considered that).   He helps out more, is able to watch a television show and even most of a movie, thereby allowing me some downtime or the much needed chance to get some chores done.   He understands his chores and because I’ve chosen them wisely, he actually enjoys doing them.

I can take him places, football games, museums, restaurants, and not be too terribly concerned about either not enjoying myself or management kicking us out.  It’s been a long ride to get us to this place, a lot of heart aches and head aches, but we’re there.   Looking back, I never thought it would happen.  So, I can say I have at least survived my oldest son’s terrible twos.  Whew!  Henry?  Well, he’s a different story.

I found myself feeling as if I were having a Mommy Dearest moment the other day.  I came downstairs to find the 1000 piece puzzle I’ve been working (yes, I work puzzles, they’re fun and relaxing, while also stimulating) demolished and on the floor.  I snapped.   I got so mad,  I wanted to punch a hole in the wall.   I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.  I wanted to punish whoever did it.   I almost wanted to take a wire hanger to someone, but I didn’t.   I did stomp around, interrogate both of my boys (although I knew who was the culprit) and then I threatened to take away all of their toys.   I made them clean up and all the while I was seething inside, the pressure mounting and a pain began forming in my left chest and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.   Dear God, was I having a heart attack, or coming near to it, all over a puzzle?  Nah, I think it was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Henry.  Yes, Henry is the one these days who’s bringing me to the brink of death.   Henry is devious, strong willed, independent, and doesn’t seem to consider any consequences with his actions.  I’m aware he’s not yet two, but he’s very smart for a two year old, much smarter than Davey at times, a feat I didn’t think possible.

Henry is entering his terrible twos, which if I remember correctly means I have at least another two years of this behavior.   TWO YEARS!  I don’t know if I’m fit, mentally or physically, to survive.   I genuinely believe he will take me down, he will destroy me piece by piece, eroding away my armor, until I’m completely naked and vulnerable, where he’ll then deliver the knife to the heart.   Maybe I’m a bit melodramatic, but I really think Henry will be the death of me.

He’s adventurous, has zero fear, doesn’t listen (likes to run towards the road, regardless of how many times I’ve said “no”) and believes anything his four year old brother can do, he can do it better.   I’m going to die.  I am literally going to go into an early grave with this child if I don’t learn how to relax.   My problem, though, is that I’m not thinking on the level of an almost two year old, or even a four year old for that matter.  I’m assuming, falsely I might add, that these boys are on my level.   I’m not coming down to theirs, and therein, my friends, lies the problem.   I find myself every night saying these words, “I just don’t understand.”

So what if the fence is colored with chalk, it’ll wash off.  So what if my puzzle is destroyed, it can be put back together.   So what if Henry threw my wallet in the trash can at the museum, it was recovered, albeit a half an hour later.   That third thing did happen, by the way.   So what if he’s not eating his food, throwing it across the room, he’s obviously not starving.   So what if he instigates half of the fights with his older brother, he’ll learn not to mess with a bull or that those horns will hook.   So what if he’s pulling poop out of his diaper and wiping on walls?  So what!  Those are the words I should be saying to myself every day.   He is only going to be this age for a while and then all new headaches will start.   Sigh.  I don’t think that thought is really helping my cause as I’m sitting here at 4 am on a Friday morning writing a blog.

The only thing that even remotely makes me smile about the idea of if Henry puts me into an early grave, is knowing that my husband will no longer have a buffer.  He’ll have to deal with these boys on his own.  He’ll have to suffer through my torture.  I’m not thinking nicely, shame on me. I wonder where Henry gets his devious nature?  Hmmm.

Happy Friday, y’all!