December 2022 – The Saucy Mama

Quiet is Never Quiet Enough

December 22, 2022January 15, 2023Posted in TSMTagged boy mom, cuddles, holiday baking, mom life, motherhood, quiet time, self-care, sleepless nights, workoutLeave a comment

C requested that we make gingerbread cookies after learning about them at school last week. I figured, sure, why not. I found a recipe, and J and I picked up the ingredients I didn’t already have in my spice cabinet. The suggestion of cookies was actually perfect as I decided we’d package them up and give them away to C’s bus drivers and his teachers as a “thank you”/Christmas gift. I love it when a plan comes together!

The boys and I combined and mixed the ingredients in the afternoon when C got home from school, then set the dough to chill. Fun fact that I did not know going into this: gingerbread dough needs to chill before the cookies can be cut.

Dough chilling, I make dinner, hubby comes home, we eat, and take a tubby. Then the boys and I head back to the kitchen to roll out the dough and bust out the cookie cutters. We make gingerbread men, gingerbread women, gingerbread kids, Santas, reindeer, ornaments, and candy canes. I pop the first batch in the oven, and the boys stare through the window to watch them bake. Another fun fact: although the dough needs to chill forever, the cookies back up in about ten minutes!

Once all the cookies are made and set out to cool, we head to bed. Around 2 AM, C wakes up. It takes about thirty minutes, but I get him back to sleep. I, however, am wide awake. I decide to be productive. I went across the hall into our junk room-turned-my-office to create labels for the cookie bags. I was still fussing with spacing and print alignment when my husband walked by and said, “There you are. I was wondering where you were.”

After he left for work, I decided that at 5 AM, with the kids still asleep, this would be the best opportunity to get my workout in alone. Usually, the boys wake up, follow me to the basement, and lay all over me when I do floor exercises.

I sneak into my bedroom because, of course, they are sleeping in there, change my clothes, then go down to the hall to our other bathroom to pee and put my shoes on. Guys, I promise you I made ZERO noise until I flushed the toilet on the other end of the house. Our house isn’t that big, but they shouldn’t have been able to hear the flush. Either way, I go down into the basement where, during COVID, A (my husband) went a little crazy filling it with gym equipment. I was just throwing my leg over the exercise bike seat when I heard it. Little, pounding footsteps going down the hall. J comes down the stairs and stops in front of the bike, and with sleepy eyes, he looks up at me and says, in a tone that doesn’t match his tired eyes, “Hi, Mommy!”

I laughed so hysterically that I thought I was going to cry. He reached his little arms up, and I had no choice but to scoop him up, soak up all that cute sleepy warmth, and snuggle my baby for 22 minutes as I rode the stationary bike. He wouldn’t let me put him down because he was scared. Of what? I have no idea. I finally convinced him that if he got down and handed me the remote control, he could watch anything he wanted on the television while I finished up.

I finished my ride, then proceeded to my floor exercise routine, which involved J trying to lay on me when I went down from a sit-up or sitting on my lap between sets. The whole time all I could think was: I should have just let it mellow…

I’m a Living, Breathing Comforter Object

December 16, 2022January 15, 2023Posted in TSMTagged autonomy, balance, boy mom, comfort object, mom life, motherhood, sleep strugglesLeave a comment

A few weeks ago, as we continued to work through C’s sleep issues, I found myself covered in children. Both boys made their way into our room in the middle of the night, as is typical. J used me as his mattress while pushing his brother away whenever he got close, trying to cuddle. Not being able to curl up next to me, C took my outstretched arm and adjusted it like a pillow, made himself comfortable, and went back to sleep.

I lay there for a moment, baffled by what just happened. My body stopped being my own, and I was a comfort object. A wubbie. A blankly. A favorite stuffy. I’m my kids’ comfort object.

As far as non-mommy comfort objects go, C had two: his wubbie and the baby blanket my godmother made for him. He loved his wubbie. Whenever he couldn’t find it, he’d walk around the house saying, “Wubbieeeee, where are you?!” We tried to ween him off of it with varying degrees of success depending on the day and his mood. We did a good job of it until the pandemic hit, and his world shifted. I decided to let him keep it and restart the weaning process later. As we were broaching the topic again, he decided on his own. One night during bedtime, he was upset, and we tried to give his wubbie to him, and he said, “No!” And then he never asked for it again.

The blanket he still uses from time to time. It lays at the foot of his bed, ready to be used at any moment. The other night when we were settling into bedtime, C got the blanket. He also brought in J’s version of the blanket, proceeded to tuck him in, then made himself cozy under his. My sweet boy.

J never really latched on to anything other than me for comfort. He likes his blanket well enough, and his stuffies are alright, but for him, there’s nothing like lying on my chest to fall asleep. This is equally sweet and frustrating. Sweet for the obvious reasons of bonding, love, etc. Frustrating because sometimes, after a day is being pulled and pushed in multiple directions. The last thing I want is to lie prone while he finds a comfortable spot to fall asleep on. I may sound like an asshole, but this kid tosses and turns over my body like a freshly caught fish flopping on a dock.

As I write this, J is curled up next to me in my bed, using my shoulder as a pillow. I know I should, and I do cherish these moments because there will come a time when cuddling with me is the absolute last thing they’ll want to do. It’s just a struggle sometimes to find some autonomy for myself while being any and everything to my boys.

Elf NOT on My Shelf

December 8, 2022January 15, 2023Posted in TSMTagged boy mom, christmas, elf on the shelf, holiday stress, holidays, mom life, mother logic, motherhoodLeave a comment

‘Tis the season to be jolly…and stressed out and overwhelmed with holiday to-do lists. Sometime in the last fifteen-ish years, moms across the country (maybe the world; I don’t know) have been moving a creepy little doll around their house to encourage their children to be on their best behavior. While the concept is good in theory, the perceived one-upmanship that parents (mostly moms) engage in to have said elf end up in different silly positions every morning is a little too much for me.

Every year since I’ve had my boys, I’ve hemmed and hawed about introducing the red velvet-clad whimsical creature into our home, but then I see all the scenarios that my girlfriends, acquaintances, and perfect strangers create for the doll, and I tap out. While acknowledging their creativity, I also see the mess I would have to clean up. I get tired just looking at the toys spread from the living room to the toy room, not to mention the toy room itself. I look at those chaotic, albeit funny, scenes and think, “Nope. I don’t want to clean that up.” Hence, we don’t have an elf on our mantle, in our pantry, or emerging from the toilet tank…

I also think it’s a weird lesson in voyeurism that I don’t need to teach my boys. There are already enough places in the world for them to get questionable messaging. Teaching them that this doll is doing recon for Santa Claus, so they better behave, doesn’t quite sit well with me. Hell, I’m grateful that they haven’t started asking questions about the big guy yet because that’s another mind fuck that I don’t want to explain. My kids ask questions. They want to understand. They’re kind of unique and annoying that way. Also, poor J already told me he’s afraid of the dark. I don’t need to give him another reason to look over his little shoulder.

I can also say with 97% certainty the whole elf thing will backfire on me. C and J will find different places for the elf to hide, and I won’t be able to find it. I’m still looking for one of J’s water bottles that he used FOUR DAYS ago!

So no, there is not now nor will there ever be a spritely elf on any self in this household. I wish hearty good luck to all the parents who partake in this tradition. I’ll be over here watching the inventive disorder on my cell phone as I avoid my last-minute shopping until the last minute and try to keep the kids away from the gifts that have already been purchased.

A Mother’s Love Through Criticism…

December 2, 2022January 15, 2023Posted in TSMTagged mom life, mother daughter, mother's love, mother-dauaghter, motherhood, parent child relationships, parent-child relationships, self-care, tough loveLeave a comment

In my junior year of college, I came home at the end of the first semester exhausted. It had been a particularly trying semester, and finals week came with a snowstorm. Sufficed to say, I was happy to be home when it was all said and done. My mother, with ever the keen eye, looked at me and said, “You look unkempt. Here is some money. Go get your hair done.” Before taking the money (obviously), my response was, “I’m sorry I’ve been more focused on passing my finals than what my hair looks like. I thought that’s what you were sending me to school for.” While annoyed at the comment, I did appreciate her hooking me up with the cash for a bit of self-care.

My mother has been notorious for commenting on little things like this my whole life. She does it to my brothers too. I used to think it was just her nature until my girlfriends would share the perceived f’ed up stuff their moms would say to them too. In my teens and 20s, I resented her for it a little bit. Why couldn’t she be a little nicer? A little less brusk. Usually, these comments came when and about things I was already frustrated about or keenly aware of, so often, my reaction to them was less than pleasant.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that the comments aren’t from a place of malice or ill intent. It’s coming from a twisted Boomer place of love. I can’t totally blame this on being a Boomer because my paternal grandmother does the same thing. I generally brace myself before stopping by to see her. But I digress…

Since having my boys, I’ve come to appreciate her observations…that’s not 100% true. I only really appreciate it when she tells me I look tired because that is always followed up with, “Bring the boys by, and we’ll take them for the weekend.” This past weekend, for example, she took them home with her after Thanksgiving dinner and kept them for three days. When she does things like that, it’s kind of hard to stay mad at her for telling me I look like shit…

So remember, this holiday season when your mother is lobbing criticisms at you, she’s likely coming from a place of love. Also, remember that we can correct these behaviors with our own children, and these patterns need not be repeated with the next generation.