Let It Go ...

Sorry there aren't more
photos in the post.
I was busy doing mom
things at Target.

No, I am not referring to the newest song terrorizing parents and Facebook feeds. I'm using that title to refer to the feeling a parent must get when they can't say exactly what's on their mind when others are observing either them or their children. But, for anyone who just wants a glimpse into the mind of a parent whose child is currently doing her thing and being 3, this is what we're really thinking. And how we wish to respond, but can't because we're trying to set an example.

To the woman who is "helping" me locate my child who is currently running through the store because she didn't want to sit in the cart.

Believe it or not, I recognize my daughter's footsteps. They haunt me. I hear them at ungodly hours on weekends, creeping slowly to my bed to wake me up. I hear them chasing the cat around the house. I can hear them running in an opposite direction or coming toward me. I know as soon as I unwrap any sort of food for myself, those footsteps will soon follow. I can hear them stop and know, after about two minutes of silence, to see what she's up to.

She's not a light stepper. And I'm OK with that.

Simply listening to a wonderful Christmas song (Why I Like "Wonderful Christmastime")

Something happened between last year and this one. I don't know what the sociological shift was, but it made everyone decide they *hate* Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Chirstmastime." Maybe they already hated it, though. But it was this year it seemed those people decided to post about it on social media. At least once a week, a status would pop in my feed about hating the song. Even my beloved Simple Mom posted about it. It was as if my friends realized, "OK, YOLO (or some other Carpe Diem-esque statement), I can now admit that I don't like something one of The Beatles did without looking like an ignorant child saying I hate mommy and daddy's music generation."

To those people, all I can say is, "Come on! That's your least favorite Christmas song? Really? Of everything out there?"

Never would I ever ...

Don't let the smile fool you, there is FEAR in those eyes.

"When I'm a parent ... "

Let me stop you right there, oh childless ones who say these words. You think you're so wise. Well, I hate to speak in terms of absolutes, but you're not. Despite how many kids you've babysat for or how many younger siblings you've taken care of, you have no idea how your mind somehow changes and, dare I say it, warps  when you have a child of your very own. A child you're responsible for shaping and turning into a decent human being. Not to mention, you have to keep this child alive! And, though a lofty goal, at the very least, you picture these happy, heartfelt moments with your children 24/7.

I won't spoil the surprise for when you find out in the first 48 hours at home with your new child that these heartfelt moments are hard to come by when you're not even sure what you're supposed to do with this little one and you're sleep deprived and you're questioning every single thing you're doing and wondering if you're doing them all wrong.

And, as soon as you find the answer you're looking for and something "works," the next day, you'll be searching for a new answer to a new question and/or the answer you just found that worked will no longer work.

Failure to Laugh

So, if you've seen my blog in the past week and a half, you've noticed I haven't posted anything. Unfortunately, when it came down to it, I picked the wrong year to try to participate in the 31 Days challenge. All week, I've had Kirsten Dunst's voice running through my head from "Elizabethtown" -- coincidentally another Cameron Crowe movie, the writer/director of "Almost Famous" from where the photo used in my 31 Days button comes from.

"You failed! You failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed ..."

Tantrum Level Midnight

I read in "The Happiest Toddler on the Block" that the peak for tantrums is actually 18 months. By the time I had finally gotten around to reading the book, L. was about 22 months. I heaved a sigh of relief and tore through the book as quickly as I could. After learning how to spot a tantrum before it begins (warning signs are the key, by the way), either her tantrums have gone down on their own because she could communicate more or I'm just that good.

(Note: Pat yourselves on the back every so often. It feels good. And you deserve it.)

Simple Mom, take me away!

About a month ago, I was in a rut. Not even a rut of boredom. It was a hectic rut. My anxiety levels were through the roof. Sleep, which is when the sub-conscious is supposed to file all those thoughts and memories into neat little folders for me, wasn't as efficient as it usually was. I kept just feeling like I was barely hanging onto sanity.

The only time I was able to focus on anything was when I gave my 110% to L. And then, I realized that meant I wasn't giving anything to myself. I was in a mental place where I felt like I didn't deserve it. I had let any idea of a diet fly out the window because I couldn't afford to eat well. My bills were paid exactly on their due date because of an e-mail reminder, and the ones with automatic withdrawl usually weren't accounted for in my head so I would overdraw my account. (Luckily, thanks to "Friends," I put 10% of my paycheck into a savings account, but by the end of the two weeks after getting paid, I usually have transfered most, if not all of that, over to my checking account.)

My only form on entertainment for myself were podcasts I began listening to in the car to and from work. I had gotten sick of the radio. And I don't just mean the Top 40 stations since those don't even have a preset in my car. But I mean my alternative station wasn't any good anymore. My oldies station just wasn't playing music that I felt fit my mood, even NPR was just too much, especially after working at a newspaper for eight hours and the last thing I wanted was to hear about the news I just had to read about.

Progression of a kids song ear worm

Earlier in the day, I had been listening to L.'s CD of nursery rhymes and toddler songs. "Little Bunny Foo Foo" was one of her favorites so we had sung it probably four or five times that day.

Later at work, I found myself still hearing the melody in my head as I was working.

(Also in this picture, next to the bottle of generic Aveeno, you will see my Simple Mom Daily Docket, the closest thing I have to a personal assistant. More on that in a future post about the Simple Mom podcast and website and my love for Tsh.)