Family Archives - Page 4 of 6

Friday favorites, husband edition

October 17, 2014 by Jana 20 Comments

A few nights ago, my husband and I had this conversation. I should state upfront that I was laying in bed, half asleep, because it was almost midnight and we had just finished watching Sons of Anarchy and if you watch that show, you know how it exhausts you from all the emotions.

Husband: Are you asleep?

Me: No. I’m getting ready to run a marathon.

Husband: Okay, then. I’ll be in bed when I’m done powdering my wig for my meeting with the dignitaries tomorrow.

And, that, my friends, is a small glimpse into the mind of the man I married. The man I’ve been with for the last 18 years. The man whose 37th birthday is today (since I’m 4 months older than he, he loves to tell me that I a) robbed the cradle and b) will die first. I know. I’m a lucky lady).

Since I’m broke because, you know, I make no money, the only gift I could give my husband (who will not allow me to use his name because he’s crazy and paranoid and afraid that people will try to find him and then stalk him. And I’m the one with issues) was allowing him to take over my blog for the day. That’s a big deal, you guys, especially since writing is not his forte (he’s an idea man. I make the ideas make sense) and also, everything on the internet is forever. Which is more than I can say for the cake I might or might not bake.

Anyway, I let the husband pick today’s favorites. What he didn’t mention in his favorites, mainly because he stuck to the structure I use, is that he also loves golf, Orioles baseball, Broncos football (even before Peyton Manning came on board), science, Kit Kats, coming up with the world’s worst jokes, bothering me with riddles that are impossible to answer, podcasts, and Jeeps. He also loves me and our daughter but that goes without saying. So does the fact that we love him back.

And now, the rest of his favorites.

Favorite song

The husband does not like music as much as I do. In fact, he’s one of those people that probably could go for months at a time without listening to it which is just bizarre to me. However, when he does listen to songs, he does pick mostly good ones. I say mostly because when we first met, he owned Shaquille O’Neal’s CD. It’s one of his shameful secrets that you now all know. Feel free to mock. However, for his selection, he picked one of our favorite Mr. Greengenes Stone Balloon (RIP) staples, AC/DC’s “Big Balls”.

Favorite frugal find

We live in Delaware, home of Dogfish Head Brewery and at the main facility in Milton, they give brewery tours. We did that as part of our anniversary weekend this year. Also attached to the brewery is a bar/holding area and they give away 4 free samples of any beer on tap to every person who wants them. You don’t even have to be on the tour. You can just stop by after work and get your free beer. I’m glad we live over an hour away because he’d be home late. Every night.

Favorite book

The husband is not a big fan of fiction. He reads mostly biographies and magazines along with some books related to his industry (I call them textbooks. He disagrees). Occasionally he’ll read fiction. Specifically, Michael Crichton. And only Michael Crichton. He’s read through all of his books and picked this one as his favorite.

Favorite TV shows

As far as TV goes, when it comes to picking a show we can agree on, Congress has an easier time coming to a consensus. However, we do sometimes find stuff we both like and then we watch all the shows on all the days and then we go back to fighting and that works for us. That said, some of his favorites aren’t terrible. They’re actually pretty damn good: Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, Big Bang Theory, Sons Of Anarchy, Family Guy.

Favorite Internet reads

The husband likes to spend his time reading and reading the same websites, and also he likes to be a pain in my ass so instead of sending links to specific posts, he sent me general websites like people have time to check them out. But, if you do have some spare time, the husband recommends Mental Floss, Cracked, and The Oatmeal. Since I’m respectful of your time, I have a ton of links saved to share with you guys next week.

Favorite quote

Challenge accepted.

Favorite funnies

I have not vetted all of these. So…consider yourself warned. I don’t know what’s in them.

Thanks to the husband for sharing his favorites! He’ll be making more appearances, though I haven’t quite worked out the details yet.

This is homecoming weekend at our alma mater and since we met in college, you think this would be something we’d attend with gusto. But, alas, it is not. In fact, this year we get to spend homecoming weekend dealing with cheerleading stuff. Again. So I’m glad we’re shaking it up a bit. However, we are going out to dinner at a restaurant with actual cloth napkins! I guess that’ll have to make up for everything else.

Have a great weekend! See you on Monday. I’ll be returning with another parenting post so stay tuned.

Linking up with Amanda

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A note home to parents

September 19, 2014 by Jana 18 Comments

This is a guest post from my college friend Steph. She’s guest posted here before and I am stoked to have her back because she’s always terrific. This post of hers is especially fantastic and I hope you enjoy it! And even though I am a parent, I agree with every single sentiment she shares.

Hello Jana Says readers! I’m Steph and you can normally find me over at Life According to Steph blogging about cooking, books, my three pugs, things that annoy me, hausfrauing, my card of a husband, and life in general live from Philadelphia. Jana and I go way back to freshman year of college at the University of Delaware (for those counting, that’s 19 years ago this month) and reconnected on the facebook. We were delighted to find out we had a common interest in blogging as adults, and I’m thankful for Jana sharing her space while she’s in New Orleans.

Jana has recently killed it with some parenting posts that I’ve really appreciated even as someone without children, specifically Promises to my Friends Without Kids. I shared it and it resonated with a lot of people, both those with kids and without. Even though I’m not a fan of open ended letters, I thought a note to those that are parents from someone who is not would be a good companion to that post.

1. It’s okay to talk to me about your kids. More than okay. Assuming they’re not assholes (and I really hope they’re not), I probably enjoy them and want to hear about what’s going on with them both to be up to speed with them and with you.

2. That being said, I don’t want to only talk about your kids, and you shouldn’t either. Your kids are their own people. You are your own person. You’re connected like nothing else, but also still an individual. Don’t project yourself onto them. Your role of mom or dad is not the only thing you are – you are also a daughter/son, sibling, friend, maybe an employee…an individual. It’s important to show your kids that you take care of yourself and that you matter – your time, hobbies, work, thoughts, and feelings outside of them matter. It teaches your kids not to shove themselves aside for the good of others all the time. It teaches them that you can have children, a marriage, any relationship with others and still retain a sense of self. That will serve them well in life, and you too.

3. Don’t worry about your kids when they come to my house. I know they’re kids, and I have dogs. They’ve crapped the place up enough, I’m used to it. However if they make a crazy mess, I’d love it if you helped me clean it up.

4. For the love, please do not let your kids run around restaurants. It makes me die inside.

5. If you have a party for your kid at your house, I’d love to come. Please don’t be offended when I do not attend a party at The Rat House. Chuck E. Cheese is not my scene.

6. Don’t be a competitive asshole with other parents or compare your kids to other kids. First of all, whatever your kid achieves, it is their achievement. Not yours. I hope you’re proud of them for what they do but recognize that it’s their doing. Secondly, all kids are different and that’s okay. That’s great actually. We all do things in our own time. We’re not all good at the same things. Encourage your kid to find something they love and let the rest happen.

7. Even if you don’t like to read, try to encourage it in your kids. Reading opens minds and works imagination like nothing else in life. If you don’t want to read with your kids, Aunt Steph would love to!

8. Don’t assume everyone wants to or is able to have kids. Kids are a huge life decision, having children isn’t a given and it’s not something you should do because you feel like it’s what society expects. If someone doesn’t have kids, don’t ask them about it. If they want to bring it up, they will. You shouldn’t be asking about other people’s reproductive plans anyway. It’s rude.

9. While I haven’t raised a child, I might have a perspective that could be valuable to you. And I definitely have opinions on parenting that will come out in conversation. I’m allowed to have those even though I haven’t done it. I have an opinion on being the President too and I’ve never done that either. Don’t treat me like less or judge me because I don’t have a kid and you do. I don’t like you less or judge you because you have a kid and I don’t.

10. We shouldn’t let the fact that one of us is a parent and one isn’t color our relationship. All kids grow up and we’ll still be here staring at each other with our teeth in our mouths, so we should appreciate what we have in each other, embrace our similarities and respect our differences.

Any thoughts to add?

SMD

Life According to Steph / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

It’s my life

September 8, 2014 by Jana 24 Comments

(If you sing the title like the Bon Jovi song, it's way better)

I've told you guys before that I am not above ~~stealing~~ borrowing a good idea. And after I saw these types of posts from Kenzie and Liz, I figured, hey? Why not do one of these for myself? Admittedly, I am not as interesting as those ladies, and pretty much every day looks the same for me (weekends, too, which is why I never do weekend recaps. I could write one and then just recycle it every Monday. Easy writing for me. Boring reading for you) but I thought it might be fun to answer the question “what exactly it is you do here?”

It's pretty simple.

First, my alarm goes off at 6:15. I check the phone repeatedly to make sure it's not a mistake and then lay in bed while my husband storms the bathroom first. I figure since he leaves the house to go to work, I can graciously give him a 5 minute head start on the day. He finishes whatever it is he does in there, I move a dog out of the way, and get up.

Then I get dressed, hopefully remember to put on deodorant, walk down to the living room and do this:

I want to hate Shawn T. Yet, I don't. So starting my day with him isn't so bad and I know my workout is done for the day and that's nice. Then, while still dripping with sweat, I go to my kitchen, grab a quick breakfast and pack my child's lunch. Then, I brave her room, stepping over mountains of whatever she had been playing with the night before because cleaning up requests are laughed at and ignored, and wake her up. She usually looks pretty comfortable but I don't want to go to jail for not sending her to school so I rouse her anyway.

I then spend the next hour fighting with my child, trying to make her understand that school does not, in fact, start when she wants it to but has an actual predetermined start time and we have to be there for it. I sometimes think a cattle prod would help but then think, better not. So I settle for ~~yelling~~ encouraging her loudly and emphatically.

We make it to school, I drop her off, run any errands I might have, then come home to my bunker. That's what I call my office. I spend the next 5-6 hours ~~reading the internet~~ working and alternately thinking what I do is amazing and worth the effort or hating myself for even trying and questioning every decision I make.

It's where the magic happens. And by magic, I mean self doubt.

I eat sometime during those hours, let the dogs out in the backyard so I can get my required yard time, and think about doing laundry or cleaning my house. Those last two almost never happen.

Around 3:00, I do a quick clean up of my kitchen, put the dogs on their leashes for a short walk, and we all pile into the car to get my daughter from school.

We get to the school and, depending on the day, can wait anywhere from 10-20 minutes (30 on a really bad day) to retrieve my daughter. The parent pickup line is a special kind of hell and I do it because it is actually easier than fighting with her to get on the bus, which she hates and is terrified of. And, since I know you're wondering, this is the view from the line. I think I was particularly close up that day.

We get home, she has a snack and watches some TV, I somehow manage to get things done but I can't tell you what because the hour between when we get home and I start making dinner is a time warp and the hour disappears. Since this is the third time I've mentioned eating, here's my kitchen. The amount of time I spend in here really is ridiculous.

We don't really have a set time for dinner because 3 nights a week (and one weekend morning/afternoon), we go here for cheer practice. The gym is up a very long, poorly paved driveway and through a gravelly, dusty parking lot. But isn't the entrance pretty?

After cheer, I wage another battle to get her in bed by a reasonable bedtime since waking her in the morning takes more patience than I have, especially if she's tired, but she takes 87 minute showers. It's a fine line between wanting her to enjoy showering and telling her to hurry the fuck up. After she's sufficiently clean and her bathroom is sufficiently flooded, we have storytime and finally, she's in bed.

Once she's asleep, I get to enjoy adult TV time. That is either exceptionally pleasant or exceptionally unpleasant, depending on the day of the week as my husband and I don't always agree on what constitutes good TV. We do agree occasionally and that's nice. Depending on the day, we shut the TV off at either 10 or 11, walk the dogs a final time, and go to bed. I typically read for about 20 minutes before I can fall asleep (sometimes longer if it's a good book). When I'm done reading, I shuffle the dogs around so I can get comfortable enough to sleep. Then I do.

Quick note: in my house, it's a race to fall asleep first because my husband snores and if I have to listen to it while I am trying to sleep, I get ragey and want to smother him. Smothering is illegal so I settle for a subtle jab in the arm and an angry “stop snoring!” It usually works and we all sleep well after that.

And that, my friends, is my exciting life. I suppose it could be worse.

What does your average day look like? Would you like to join me in a share your space linkup where we take pictures of our desks and talk about what's on it and why?

Confession: I’m not supermom

August 27, 2014 by Jana 28 Comments

This post was supposed to go live on Monday but life got in the way. Better late than never, I suppose.

The last few weeks I’ve done some parenting confessions and this week is no exception. I didn’t think I had so much to confess as a parent but clearly I do so we’ll keep this train rolling until it falls off the tracks.

This week, I confess that I stopped trying to be supermom. As in, I don’t even try anymore. I turned in my cape and shield. And I’ve never been happier.

When my daughter was born, I had this notion in my head that I’d be the mom I’d been brainwashed to believe that I should be. I’d lose all the baby weight really quickly (ha! That’s a cruel ass joke. We’ll be diving into my weight issues in the next few weeks), I’d always look put together, my house would look Pinterest worthy (or whatever it was called in 2007, right after my daughter was born), I’d cook healthy meals, I’d be the classroom volunteer, and I’d be able to balance everything. My kid would always look supercute, I’d be organized, and I’d do all these fun crafts and projects and I’d look like the type of mom you read about on all those “I’m a perfect mom and you wish you were like me” blogs.

Which was insane of me to think. I am not that put together. If I got 2 of those done on any given day, I succeeded. But I had put so much pressure on myself to be the perfect mom that it led to some not so healthy behaviors, both physically and mentally. I’d beat myself up daily that the house was a disaster or I forgot to do laundry (again) or we had to get takeout (again) or I was a hot mess when I left the house. And we won’t even get into the mommy guilt about putting my daughter in daycare.

Actually, yes. We will.

>>>steps on soapbox<<< My daughter was a daycare kid. I had to work because the income I was earning far exceeded the cost of putting her in daycare. My family needed that money to, you know, eat and survive, and so I worked. I felt guilty for awhile, mostly as a result of people trying to make me feel like shit about it. Then I realized they didn’t live my life and if they weren’t willing to pay my mortgage and other bills, then they had no business spewing their opinions at me. Also, I LIKED WORKING. I liked earning my own paycheck and not relying on someone else and getting out of the house and engaging with other adults and using my working brain to be something other than someone’s mother. So I let that guilt go. And if you’re in that situation, you need to let it go, too. No one has any business telling you what is best for your family. If they try, politely tell them to shut the fuck up. >>>steps of soapbox<<<

I think letting the mommy guilt about daycare go was the first step in realizing I’ll never be supermom. I was never going to be the mom that devoted her entire life and existence to her kid. And I was actually okay with that. And becoming okay with that meant that I could come to terms with my other perceived shortcomings.

Accepting my shortcomings as a parent actually made me a better parent. Because now, instead of focusing my energy on the unimportant things, I could focus on the important ones. For instance, I stopped worrying about whether or not my daughter looked cute and trendy all the time. There were, and are, some days when as long as her clothes are clean and free from holes, I don’t care what she wears. So I confess my child will never be a fashionista or catalog model on my watch. But her clothes fit and are seasonally appropriate and I keep them in good enough condition to pass them on to others.

Here’s another mommy point to deduct–I have no interest in being part of the PTA. As in, I genuinely don’t care and will not join. It would just frustrate me and take time away from everything else that is exponentially better than joining the PTA. I don’t feel the need to be that involved with her school, and by opting out of that commitment, I have time to help with homework or volunteer when I feel like it instead of being obligated. I can enjoy her little concerts instead of working them and I can preserve my friendships by not harassing people for money.

I know it’s trendy to do so because clearly the more you share, the more you love your kid, but I do not overshare my kid’s life on social media. I know “good moms” post every little mundane detail about a kid’s life on Facebook or Instagram or whatever, and I do share the big stuff like losing a tooth or the first day of school or the training wheels coming off her bike, but the every day stuff? Nope. I don’t need to share every picture of her being cute or every snarky, crazy comment that comes out of her mouth. There are moments I like to keep for myself. Call me selfish, call me private, say I don’t love her enough to brag about her all the time. Doesn’t matter to me. Her life doesn’t need to play out on social media.

And we already know I’ve given up on having a perfectly clean house. My interior decorating skills are shit, my crafting skills are minimal at best, and I have really given up trying to look at all decent on a daily basis. I figure as long as I get a shower every day, I’ve won. When you take all of this into consideration, not a super mommy do I make.

I’m sure I do some things that people perceive as overachieving. I like to make cute food crafts for her on special occasions. I bake and decorate her birthday cake or cupcakes every year. I plan semi-elaborate birthday parties (her birthday is in December and I refuse to let it get lost in the shuffle of Christmas and Hanukkah). I have her places on time. I remember and stick to commitments (and please don’t give me this “oh, you only have one. It’s so much easier for you” nonsense. My parents had 3 of us and I learned this behavior from somewhere). I cook dinner most nights and I pack her lunch every day. But I don’t consider most of this overachieving. I consider it being a responsible adult.

We can discuss that if you’d like.

Here’s the thing. I know I’m a good mom. I don’t need to live a Pinterest ready or be an overachiever in order to prove it. And neither do you. We’re all just trying to do the best we can. So if you need to hang up your supermom cape, go ahead.

I’ll clear a space for you.

Linking up with Kathy and Liz

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12 things I don’t do as a parent

August 19, 2014 by Jana 46 Comments

This week’s confessions are inspired by this post from Babble and this post from Amber at Airing My Dirty Laundry.

I will most likely never win Mother of the Year.

Here’s a small sample of why.

I lose my temper, I feed my daughter Chick Fil A probably more than I should, I’ve been known to curse in front of her, and occasionally, I’ll tell her to talk to Siri when I want to stop answering her incessant and endless questions. I admit to looking forward to a few hours silence when she has cheer practice or school or a play date and I definitely will run errands in the evening and pretend it’s a vacation.

I’m not even remotely ashamed. In fact, I’ve written a whole post confessing that some things I do might make me a terrible parent.

Consider these confessions a balance to those. Or maybe not a balance but an accompaniment. Depends on how you want to look at it. I think there might even be an overlap or two.

That’s fine.

Let’s get to it. As a parent, I don’t:

Have a panic attack if she gets hurt. Cuts, bruises, scrapes and their ilk are all part of childhood. Not every injury is cause for a freak out session and if I’m panicking, how can I expect her to calm down? Right. I can’t. So I stay calm and put a band aid on it. She’ll heal.
Lose my shit if she stains her clothes or gets too dirty. Like getting hurt, it’s a part of childhood. Kids are messy, filthy little things and my child is no exception. Watching her eat certain foods is revolting, and it’s no wonder her clothes eat, too. I also don’t buy her such expensive clothes that if they get a stain, it’s worth getting angry. I just throw some Shout on it and move along.
Let her win. Losing is a part of life and she needs to learn to do that graciously, too. It’s all part of good sportsmanship, especially now that she’s older and needs to learn those lessons. Lest you think I am a heartless bitch of a mother rather than just a terrible one, there are plenty of times she legit kicks my ass. I am seriously overmatched in Birthday Party Monopoly.
Play Barbies. Or have tea parties or play dress up or create elaborate scavenger hunts or do a whole lot of playing in general. I’ll do crafts, play board games, take her places, and once, I let her give me a makeover. But I am not a get on the floor, play Barbies kind of mom. I did it once and it was terrible. I don’t care to do it again.
Watch everything she does. If I spent my days responding to all the “Mom, watch this!” shouts, I’d get even less done. Which is hard to imagine. But I can’t stop my life every time she wants to show me how she can spin in a circle or do a cartwheel. I know that shit. I’ve seen it eleventy billion times. I watch the important stuff. But sometimes I just have to say no to the little stuff.
Give her control of the radio in the car. Or the TV in the living room. We all live in this house. We all drive in the car. She is not the only one, and quite frankly, most of her taste in entertainment sucks a fat one. She has a few gems (seriously, iCarly is freaking funny) but for the most part, it’s all terrible. It’s hurts my ears, eyes, and soul to watch or listen to it. So I make her share. She needs to be more well rounded anyway.
Keep an immaculate house. I’ve confessed all my dirty housekeeping secrets before but it bears repeating. And while we’re at it, my house doesn’t look Pinterest worthy. Or even ready for company. But it’s comfortable and clean enough and I’d rather spend time and money on trips, days at the beach, and making memories than cleaning. Having a clean, perfect house is not a priority and quite frankly, it is too damn stressful. Plus I have a kid and pets and a husband and cleaning up after them is about as sensical as shredding cheese with a nail file.
Wait on her, hand and foot. Last time I checked, she wasn’t royalty and I wasn’t hired help. As such, she can clean up after herself, put her laundry away, get her own snacks and drinks, and do chores. Without being bribed.
Like all of her friends. Have you met some people’s kids? Yes? Then you know that some of them are huge assholes. I cringe when my child is friends with one of those kids, and I cringe even more when she hangs out with them. The thing is this, though. They’re not my friends. I don’t have to like them. And I will tolerate them. Until they do something I can’t tolerate. Then the gloves come off (not literally. I will simply forbid my kid from seeing whenever possible).
Live vicariously through her. This is her childhood, not mine. It is not my place to force her to make up for all my shortcomings or unfulfilled dreams and wishes. It would be wrong for me to do that, and would take away all of her independence and ability to make her own choices. She needs to figure out for herself what she likes and doesn’t like.
Think she’s perfect. I am the first one to admit that my child fucks up. She cops an attitude, she doesn’t listen, she makes mistakes, and things are sometimes her fault. She is not free from blame during fights with friends, she messes up in school, and she’s not always the superstar. Does she do the best she can? Most of the time. Is she amazing in her own way? Absolutely. But is she perfect? Nope.
Call her my BFF. Remember when Steph wrote about how she didn’t marry her best friend? Well, I didn’t give birth to mine. I am her mother and that trumps being her friend. It is a role that needs no other definition. Quite frankly, it creeps me out when a parent says her school aged child is her BFF. Really?! That can’t possibly be healthy. I love my daughter and would do anything for her. Except call her my best friend. Because in addition to the creepy dynamic, it puts way too much pressure on her. Which isn’t fair.

And now you know all my dirty parenting secrets.

My parenting style isn’t for everyone and it certainly isn’t trendy. But my kid knows that she’s loved, safe, and well cared for.

And it works for me.

So I’m clearly doing something right.