Making Work Work

How corny can I be, right?  The SAHM/WAHM/WAFM (what the hell is the acronym for work away from home mom anyway?) discussion is an old and yawn inducing one.  An issue I probably made fun of in my fast and furious single years.  In those days when fun was dancing till the sun rose and my best buddy was Johnnie Walker, I would have laughed at the mere thought of it.  But now that I have mom boobs, sleep before midnight and created two buddies that keep me entertained without giving me a hangover, I've willfully defected to the other side.

I have tried it all - part time work, stay at home, full time work, no yaya (nanny), with yaya (nanny) and now work at home.  If you've been here before you would know that I'm not exactly the homey housewife, there have been days when I greeted Paco's coming home by shoving a baby in his arms.  Tired of late night ironing sessions, I refused to iron bed sheets and underwear.  No one noticed and it dawned on me that no one ever noticed that I did in the first place.  It is also goes without saying that I am on the slacker mom side of the fence.  Keep my cool as Gael throws himself on the floor in a fit over a toy that will not be his at a mall? You must be fucking kidding me.  Restrain myself from calling a 3-year-old boy ugly when he called my 3-year-old ugly FIRST?  You must be fucking kidding me.  Make a cat out of cereal boxes and dryer lint?  You must be fucking kidding me. 

Even then, I felt guilty about leaving Gael at daycare when he was 5 months old for a part time job that didn't really pay any bills except day care and H&M.  I was exhausted without a yaya or any household help but, strangely enough, I occasionally  miss being without one.  Then when I did go back to working full time for a job I really wanted it involved walking two blocks, a train ride and a bus ride all before 8 a.m and that was only getting to work.  This also meant that I missed all meals of the earthlings and everything else in between.  HATED IT.  Now I work at home and DUH! I can't believer how stupid I was to not have done it sooner.  Some days I end up working long and odd hours, my desk is in a small scorching attic that is unbearable in the summer and too many times I am interrupted by whiny little boys.  On the other hand I can drop everything to attend a school culminating activity, I can rush a sick little boy to the doctor, and all coffee and lunch breaks involve hugs and kisses. 

If I start earning a ton of money and buy that beach house Paco and I dream of it would be conclusively perfect.

Big Chucks

 

 

Big feet run in my family.  I wear a size 9, my sister wears an even bigger size 11 and my dad's shoes are big enough to sail in to Hongkong.  Ok, so I'm exaggerating just a bit.  Probably big enough for a Chihuahua.  Or a few guinea pigs.

Edited to add that the purple one is mine and the blue one is 5.5 year-old Gael's.  Just in case you haven't figured that one out.

Vain Sucker Part 2

Gael is a vain little guy.  I don't know if kids qualify to be metrosexual or not but this earthling is and is proud of it.  This year alone I've already written about him and his hair.  Twice.  Remember that Palmolive Cool Dude shampoo ad that totally suckered him?  I got it for him last week and made one 5-year-old very happy.  So happy that he raised his fists in triumph and screamed FINALLY! in aisle no. 6 of Pioneer Center.  I would have gotten it sooner but the nearest grocery is SM Hypermart and, as we all know, they don't carry anything made by Colgate-Palmolive.

Now that we have it, I'm getting suckered into the whole Cool Dude thing.  I swear on my frizzy hair that his hair is now softer, shinier and easier to manage.  He has shaggy but curly hair, sometimes it takes a lot of brushing and wetting in the mornings to get it in place.  It's so much easier to tame his hair now.  Yeah, yeah I admit, I'm a TOTAL SUCKER.  Yes, bash me if you must but he is feeling pretty damn good about himself these days.  That's good enough for me.

Morbid Valentine

After dinner yesterday Gael had an after thought.

Gael:  Mama, I'm going to make you a Valentine's card.

Me:  I'd love that.

After all of 45 seconds.

Gael:  Here you go Mama.  It's a heart and says I love mom.

Me:  It's BEAUTIFUL!!!!  Thank you.

Gael:  Let's hang it in your room.  Right here behind the door so that when I'm dead you'll remember me.

JAW DROP!

GOAL!

Gael started football class last summer and discovered the adrenalin rush of scoring a goal.  Kicking that ball in the net made his day in the same way that not scoring absolutely ruined his day.  Which subsequently ruined mine with his ESPN like agony of defeat tears and temper.  Recently we noticed that he suddenly prefers stay back and not really go for the ball.  So in my embarrassing stage soccer mom voice I try to get him back to being the striker he wants to be.

Me:  Gael, if you want to score a goal you going to have  go for it and try to get the ball.

Gael:  But they push me and pull my shirt.

Me:  Well that's all part of the game. 

Gael:  But they hurt my feelings when they push me.

Me:  They don't push you because they don't like you.   Everyone is pushing everyone to get the ball.

Gael:  But I don't like them hurting my feelings.


How do you tell a 5-year-old not to take it personally?

2 More Sleeps

wwAnd the shop is up!
Don't forget to drop by this weekend.  We're only a click away.

To Bang Or Not To Bang

I have this crazy urge to get me some bangs.  So I'm finding all the strength to resist this absolutely stupid idea or I will have to suffer with a clump of hair stuck to my forehead in the crazy summer heat.  My hair and I have gone through almost everything, everything except a perm, a straightening and a shave.  Actually I did want a perm but I was 6 and my 80s perm wearing mother told me no way.  Looking back at the pictures I realize it must have been her perm that made her make such a wise decision.  She let me set my hair in rollers in the afternoons and weekends and that was good enough for me.

I've gone black, brunette, blond, red, stripes, two toned, three toned and all sorts of crazy highlights.  I've probably worn the bob in all possible ways, I've had long Farah Fawcett hair, I had the siete cut in the 80s, I did the lotsa knots in the hopes of being cool like Bjork, I even had a European mullet in Europe in 2002.  I swear about the mullet, I'll look for a picture to prove it to you.  Despite my hair victim status, bangs are always a bad idea.  The handful of times I've done it, I promise myself I will never do it again.

But then there is that crazy voice nagging at me.  It's only hair, it will grow back.  Are you a hair wuz? You can do it.

At The Ascom Field

While Gael is working his ass off training to be the next Ronaldo, Aiden is having the absolute time of his life.

Enjoying the fresh air.

Playing with his Leapster.

Beating me at dominoes.

Building a monument.

Winning a running race.

Having a picnic.

Taking a nap.

Can you tell we live in a concrete jungle?

Toddler Spelling Bee

I know I should be huh-ah-puh-ee that Aiden is into spelling and letters and wah-err-duh-sss.  But it's getting huh-ah-err-duh-eh-err and huh-ah-err-duh-eh-err to keep a conversation guh-oh-ih-ng when we have to keep sss-tuh-uh-pah-ng to break things down in fff-oh-nnn-eh-tuh-ih-k syllables.