I just need a #&*@ haircut.

I just need a #&*@ haircut.

So, it’s Sunday, you rocked the household all week, took care of your sick self and sick kids, did laundry, dishes, prepared and cleaned up food, dealt with fruit flies, ran errands, took kids to urgent care and took yourself to the DR to get birth control, cause ain’t nobody got time for another baby right now. The nearly 4-month-old wants to be held and walked around almost non-stop, the toddler is teething and, as it turns out, has an ear infection. You bleached the tub after your toddler crapped in it whilst she and her big sister were taking a bath, and scrubbed the rest of the bathroom for good measure. You swept, and swept, and swept again, when the toddler decided the cereal looked better on the floor. (Dry cereal, thank God.)

Your husband works overtime, because he has a few projects that need done. He stays up late, thus sleeps a little later, but gets up and works. He has meetings, and all kinds of people to talk to and coordinate with, jumping between projects. It’s not easy, it’s a lot of work, but he loves his job.

I love my kids, and I love a clean house, and I love eating, but as much as he loves his job, he needs a break too. And sometimes he stays up late and plays video games. Sometimes he calls it a day at the end of business hours. But he gets to shut his door and do what he feel like doing.

How is that fair?

Admittedly, I don’t have many hobbies. Or well, I do, but nothing I can realisticly do without dragging everything out, and then back when I’m done, or having to jump up every 2 minutes, cause somebody is crying, whether from pain, being “hungry”, or just for the hell of it. Even cooking dinner proves to be a challenge, the Instant Pot is a great help, but not all can be made on it, and stuff still needs prepping.

(Still Sunday.)

Me: “I know what I want to do today.”

Him: “What?”

Me: “I want to go get my hair done.”

It had been a while. Like a year, at least. I bought an $11 pair of barber shears so that I could cut off the split ends myself. Whenever I want to do my nails, I either only get one hand done, or the polish gets completely screwed up. I deserve this.

Him: “Come on, I don’t want to be stuck with the kids.”

Me: “Whatever, forget it.”

I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t have the energy or will power to fight.

But…

He works all week, and acts like it’s so much harder than what I do. Arguably, it’s the same difficulty at best. On top of all those aforementioned tasks, I have to get up with a baby in the middle of the night. I do not have it easy. I’m truly blessed, don’t get me wrong, but it’s no walk in the park. I need a damn haircut. And I want to get my hair relaxed, so that it doesn’t take me 10 minutes in the shower to brush it.

Now, if he recognized how hard my job is, he’d let me go. But, if he thinks it’s easy peasy, then what is the problem in doing it for a little while? He does know how hard I work, he just won’t admit it. And that pisses me off. I get that his job is mentally draining. And sometimes on the weekends he is being put to work by his parents. But he gets to have hours at night, with peace and the freedom to play games and not deal with kids, or chores, or animals. Nothing. (Oh yeah, animals, those we have to, for me to take care of.)

How is that fair? Just a few hours at the damn salon, where I talk to grownups and get pampered. His hair gets cut by me with clippers. I don’t mind, but I can’t do that. Now of course, shaving my head would make soooo many things easier, but I’m not quite at the Britney stage yet. Maybe soon, but not quite yet.

When I go to the store, (preferably Target, cause duh) it IS still a chore. You can sugarcoat it as you like, but it’s a chore. Unless I get to go by myself with a latte in my hand, (whatever happened to target serving alcohol anyway?) without flailing children, a baby strapped to yourself, a toddler pulling a Houdini and wiggling out of the strap, climbing out of the seat, running away, and a kindergartener asking you if she can have all the things, and why and what and who and where – it IS still a CHORE. However, he thinks because it’s something I like doing, it doesn’t count as a chore. Even though on the way there I have to plop the pacifier back in the baby’s mouth going down the highway, (we’ve all been there, and driving with a screaming baby is not an option), the kindergartener always has to pee when you’re at the other end of the store with a full cart, and ideally the restrooms are beyond the registers, she’s hungry, she’s thirsty, she wants to go home. Nevermind the stuff I had already listed.

I just want a couple of hours.

I can’t even go to the gym, because they’re closed. The entire week I couldn’t go, because I couldn’t stick my sick kids in childcare. Even if it’s working out, those 2 hours would be awesome right now.

I don’t just need a damn haircut, I need to feel like a person.

On days like this past week, I want to hide in the van and turn up the radio. I want to have a cigarette so badly, but I know it’ll just make me feel like crap and it’s not worth it. Day drinking is kind of frowned upon when in charge of children. Child neglect isn’t very much appreciated. So I suck it up.

I just wish somebody would be like “you look stressed out. Here, I’ll take the kids, you go get your hair done.”

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Let us be!

Let us be!

“Can your child speak 20 words yet?”

“Can she pick up her toys?”

“Can she diffuse a bomb while going 100 mph down the highway in oncoming traffic?”

“Has she written a symphony yet?”

“No? Well, we better start thinking about therapy.”

 

That is what goes through my mind when I take my kids to the pediatrician. The milestones kids are supposed to hit by a certain age these days are ridiculous. Every child develops on their own, so why force it? Why make the parents question their parenting, when there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it? In my opinion it further contributes to the depression and anxiety mothers suffer in today’s age.

When I left the room after the 18 month checkup was done, I saw my kids’ pediatrician on the phone and thought to myself Is he calling CPS on me?  He was worried that my toddler was speaking much yet. I wasn’t, because my oldest was a late talker as well, and now doesn’t ever stop talking. (Like ever.) But as I left the Dr’s office, I started paying more attention to my toddler’s speech. It’s been almost 2 months, and I still am quietly obsessing over how much she speaks and understands. She understand just fine, she just doesn’t talk much. But last night I was laying in bed and decided I will make a list of the words she says and understands, so that I can keep track of it.

This is ridiculous. I didn’t worry like this with my oldest. Nobody made me feel like an inadequate parent because she didn’t say X amount of words by age Y. This needs to stop. It’s not healthy for anyone. Words like autism are being tossed around, when a child is merely developing on their own terms and speed. (Not that autism is “bad” thing, but it’s not something that should be diagnosed lightly, as in “I’m concerned because he’s only saying 19 words instead of the 20 that are required.”)

Where will it end? Will doctors start evaluating milestones before birth? “Your child doesn’t know sign language yet, you will be a horrible parent.”

It’s insanity to put this much pressure on parents. Let the kids be kids for crying out loud, and don’t make parents feel bad because their kids aren’t little geniuses.

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I Love You, But Please Back Off

I Love You, But Please Back Off

I love these kids with all my heart. They’re my joy and pride.

But lately they have been on top of me 24/7. I’m talking while I eat, sleep, use the bathroom or try to take a shower or bath. Every waking minute. So much so, that I had to result to staying up until 1 am to get some time to myself, which is mostly spent doing chores. This means less sleep for me, but the sleep-to-sanity ratio is a funny thing.

Being in my third trimester now the SPD (Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction) is in full force. This means, that constantly getting up and walking back and forth is almost torture. And it only gets worse from here. Still, I do it because who else is going to? My husband has a stressful job, and even though he works from home, until he’s done for the day, there’s little to no help.

What I have realized these last couple of days, is that it’s ok to let go of the “unimportant tasks”. So I let the dishes pile up during the day, I overlook the toys scattered over the living room floor, and the askew curtains. When I get the 2 hours at night, that’s when I do it. You’d think that stinks, spending your alone time doing that stuff. But really, it doesn’t. It actually releases stress for me, and I get to wake up to a clean house which is a much better start to the day. And during the day I get snuggles and kisses, and all the affection mixed in with fits and tantrums, intervening fights, and struggling to get them to nap. And nothing in the world would make me change it. Now offer me a vacation home on Mars, and we can talk. (Just kidding, Sort of…)

So, in the end:

I love you, please DO NOT back off.

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Why The Bluetooth Enabled Instant Pot Is Genius

Why The Bluetooth Enabled Instant Pot Is Genius

I found myself stuck in bed with my toddler, when my Instant Pot beeped. Couldn’t move, didn’t know what I should do. I didn’t want my soup to burn because of the keep warm setting. But I stuck it out, and it was worth it, because look at this…

…and the soup came out awesome anyway. When I reached the IP, the display said LO:23. Whoops! Still delicious, though.

I am currently 6 months pregnant, and I will be trying to breastfeed. Someone in the Instant Pot Community group on facebook mentioned that she also had thought of it during some nursing sessions where she couldn’t reach her pot or had to plan around eating times. With a total of three kids running around (well, the baby not so much at first!) the Bluetooth will come in super-handy!
Besides, nothing wrong with having two Instant Pots 😉

Chicken Lentil Soup (recipe)

Side note: I omitted the powdered garlic and increased the cloves to 5. I also didn’t use the “Better than Bouillon” the author suggested, but Maggi’s Chicken Flavor Bouillon.

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