August 29, 2012

I steal books from little children

My three year old is trying to drop her nap and all I can drop are F bombs at the thought of it. I had plans of her napping ’til 18. I mean, how am I supposed to get work done ? Shower? Read? Blog? Check Facebook? Seriously, this is a dire issue. I want to throw myself off the nearest X (building, nice mountain, bridge) when I think about this romantic nap time ending.

Her latest thing is to stay in her bed, look at a book and sing about it. What a terrible, disobedient child.

My most recent glimmer of brilliance was to head in there and steal all her friggin’ books thinking maybe she should just stare at the wall for 2 plus hours. Maybe, just maybe she’d fall asleep then. I flew out in a huff. “See,” I thought as I left with armfuls of books,”I showed her.”

And then, a moment of clarity.

You know how sometimes you (maybe it’s just me) completely fail to see the big picture? Like what’s really important here? My child is reading books and singing in her bed. How dare she. Suddenly I’m a fifty years older scolding her for nonsense. Stop your reading. Because I said so. And did I tell you I used to walk six miles to school every day? In the snow? And there are children in Africa…

You better LEARN child. Gawd.

Well, I better hit the showers. I can hear her singing down there about her book and it’s getting louder.

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August 16, 2012

Cinderella’s an Idiot

For Cora’s birthday this year, we had a few 3 year old girls come over dressed as princesses and fairies for a tea party. It was off the flippin’ hook (as far as cuteness goes). But perhaps the best part was that our amazing babysitter dressed up as Princess Belle from Beauty and the Beast. We all gawked as little girl after little girl walked in and nearly peed herself when she saw “The Real Belle” across the room. Seriously, it was amazing.

Anna, you are the coolest. Or Belle, I mean.

Gettin' our tea on.

Prince Jake, the only boy invited. The poor Dear hated every minute.

The moment

My favorite part was when Princess Belle was sitting on the couch with all of the little darlings and reading them a story about her dear friend, Cinderella…

One little girl interrupted and told Belle that Cinderella “wasn’t really that smart.” Pretty sure our babysitter skillfully handled that one in front of the other doe-eyed princesses, but I think the kid was on to something. I mean what kind of woman wears glass shoes? For realz, ya’ll.

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Posted by Brie |Filed Under: Cora the Rose | motherhood | that's what she said | 7 Comments

August 9, 2012

My Leetle Mirror

I think sometimes I have unfair expectations of my daughter. And I don’t know if it is because she is my first…because she is a girl…or because I am me. Probably mostly the last one. Whatever the reason, I need to look at it real closely because I don’t want it to become a sticky point for us before I even realize it.

When I got pregnant the first time I wasn’t sure about much. But the one thing I was sure about was that I would be a mother to boys. The day we found out we were pregnant with a little girl, I was in complete shock. “They must have missed a penis,” I thought. “We better go back and double check.” Truth be told, I think I was scared to have a girl. I was already thinking who she becomes will be a reflection of me. The good, the bad, the ugly. Somehow with a boy, it would be easy to love him for whoever he is because though he came from me, his experience of life will be so drastically different from my own.

But at times with my sweet girl, my big ugly ego slips in and I notice myself wanting her to be a certain way, like certain things, excel in certain areas, look a certain way, all because that’s what I would want. It’s disgusting really, and kind of sad. Sometimes I can’t help it. I so deeply want to avoid becoming one of those mothers who is always poking and prodding at her daughter, telling her she’s never enough of this or that because of my own insecurities.

I believe deeply in karma and that both my little beans have their own lives to lead, lives that are connected to mine, but lives that carry on despite me too. Sure her life will in some ways parallel mine, but it will be so very different too. After having a baby and at first doing everything for her, sometimes it’s hard to believe she is separate from me at all. Yet I know she is her own little being with her own karma. Both separate and not.

Cora is my little mirror but not because in who she is I see pieces of who I was. More because through her reactions, excitements, disappointments and behaviors, she allows me to see myself and places where I still need work.

Cora came to me because I needed her. She is my first, best gift. She has lessons to teach me about letting go, about getting over myself and my inflated ego and about how to love purely and without bias and self interest. It seems like daily, if I am quiet, listening and open to her, I see moments of pure connection. Not neurotic, self-fulfilling, attached connection (she looks pretty, she is polite, she is obedient and kind to others and all these things make me feel happy and look good), but true, pure and selfless love for who SHE is.

My teacher, my mirror, my daughter. How lucky I am to have sweet her.

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July 13, 2012

The Problem with Women: Part Deux

So Luker came home last night and I told him about my rant and how I am kind of a woman hater. He laughed and said he would like to hijack my blog again and tell my people the real problem with women: our driving skills. I told him I got this one, thankyouverymuch.

I think it is stupid to say women are bad drivers. That is obviously not true all of the time or even that often. But truth be told there are a lot of women out there who make us look like assholes and give us a bad name. I think maybe I’m one of them.

Yesterday when opening the mail, we were just thrilled to find a ticket from the motor vehicle whatever the fuck of Boulder. The timing honestly couldn’t have been worse because it was right after I was telling Luke about my woman-hater-rant from yesterday. You know those freaking flash photography tickets they give these days? Those suckers really screw me over. We opened the ticket to find an amazing picture of moi behind the wheel of the car looking caught in the act. I knew that sucker was coming too.

I used to have this friend in high school, Lindsey, who was a really pretty and popular cheerleader. She told me once that she got pulled over for running a red light. She told the cop in her beautiful valley girl voice that the light looked more pinkish to her, and did he have to give her a ticket? I thought she was ridiculous and hilarious and tried it myself once and it totally didn’t work. The cop thought I was a fucking idiot. I guess I didn’t have on quite enough makeup to pull it off.

Nevertheless, now I don’t even get the chance to talk to a cop. I just get sent the dang thing in the mail. And seriously people, yellow lights bring up a lot of emotions in me. My rebellious side says: “Go for it. No one will ever know; you’ll never get caught.” My maternal side says: “Brie, you got kids in the back. Take it easy, Homie (because I call myself Homie in my head-wtf?)…” And then my old Catholic side feels guilty about feeling all these emotions. So I go through every yellow light incredibly conflicted and incredibly slowly. This is exactly why those damn flash photo tickets are a trap for women. Conspiracy theory, people.

Anyway. Just another rant for you this lovely Friday afternoon.

This is the most amazing thing ever.

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February 2, 2012

Crunchy Moms

I know these are getting effing annoying, but for obvious reasons, this is one of my fav’s:

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January 13, 2012

Shit People Say

People say a lot of stupid shit at pivotal points in life. (Mental responses in blue)

About marriage or commitment:

“Good luck with the ball and chain..” (Good luck at the bars with all the college kids.)
“Is it weird that you’ll never sleep with anyone else again your entire life?” (Is it weird that you’ll likely have those STDs for the rest of your life?)

About having your first kid:

“Sleep while you can..” (Go fuck yourself)
“Hope you enjoyed your freedom..” (Sure have. And while you’re 50 with kindergartners, I hope you enjoy yours. I’ll email you from Tahiti and tell you all about it.)

And then about having another:

“Having two kids is not double the work, it’s quadruple.” (Wow. Did you take basic math?)

I mean really, people.

I bet if you asked a mother of four she’d say it feels a little different than the days of when she had two. Just a guess. For sure, having two is no joke. It’s a juggling act I’m managing as skillfully as I can right now. And some days I definitely get it handed to me.

But at this point, I’m not buying the: “What’s one more?” So don’t try me.

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