What’s wrong with a wife? September 1, 2009

The NYT Modern Love column is something I look forward too every Sunday. Typically I am pacing for the paper to be delievered because that is my sad life. It’s true. I am generally fired up every Sunday when I check and check and recheck and the paper still isn’t there, only for my lazy slovenly, good for nothing NYT delivery person to toss it into my yard around 8am.

I mean really. We are like 2.5 hours into our day by then, why do I have to pace for it? Its sad really.

So, back to the column. I think Sunday’s column is the first time I’ve been not only pissed off as I read it but also confused. I needed to read it a few more times to even make sense out of what the point of it was.

The writer had me with the first sentence, I was seething, as she bragged about how she has a big job and two kids and how when other working moms comment that she must be so busy, her response was a flippant “Not really, my wife stays home.” Imagine if a man responded in such a fashion. We’d be organizing to burn and pillage his home, decrying him as the world’s biggest chauvinist and wondering why in the world he doesn’t pick up some slack around home to appreciate just how much is wife makes his successful career possible.

Yet instead, because the author is female, we are supposed to accept her obnoxious statement and appreciate that it’s a column about gay women raising children and the struggles with what to call each other.  But not me. I’m pissed off at how obnoxious she is regarding the ease with which she maintains her career because she has a wife at home. Then she goes on to berate straight women in marriages because essentially we take on too much and are power hungry and refuse to relinquish tasks to our husbands, as she so gallantly did to her wife (after implying her wife still doesn’t do it all as well as she would and flat out stating it took her 18 months to accept her wife’s way).

How noble of the author to admit that her career is successful and she is able to maintain it and manage it all because she has an organized wife at home. Isn’t the reality that most women take on the majority of these tasks – whether they work or stay home – and when they stay home, they do so because that is their job but when they work, they do so because these things help them stay connected and involved in the lives of their children in the way that they would want too, if they were home. 

But then she cuts at the heart of at the biggest point of contention among almost every woman with kids I know – the unbalanced workload between husbands and wives. While her arrogance and judgement irritated the hell out of me – she still made a legitimate point in that having a more involved husband at home means relinquishing control and letting him take charge of some duties – without berating him for doing it differently than we would.

What a conundrum I find myself in – both loathing and appreciating some of the words of this woman. And she’s right. We all want our husbands to take on more work around the house, really to just take initiative. To notice when something needs done, cleaning, fixing, purchased at the store, and just do it – without being asked or handed a list. And I do think that this behavior happens more often with positive reinforcement, like that of a child pushing boundaries – the more praise and recognition we heap on them for menial tasks, the more inclined they are to do them. I think if we critique what they do constantly or we don’t ever ask them to do it because we figure that is more work than just doing it ourselves, then we forfeit the right to complain about our husbands because we are enabling them NOT to be a true partner.

Then the author goes back to what was her original point of their identities as two women, both wives, and how to refer to each other publicly. At the onset of their relationship, they felt it was very in-your-face to people to refer to each other as wives, both because it is unexpected and the word “wife” has such negative connotations.

Now here’s something else I have a beef with. Why is this? And why are other women reinforcing this notion? Why is someone who manages the house, primarily raises the children to be upstanding and responsible members of society, and keeps food on the table and clean clothes on everyone’s bodies – why is this condescending and something we recoil over? Aren’t we way past that? Haven’t we all recognized that many women deliberately choose this path and take great pride in it, often times finding it more fulfilling than some dumb job in a cube.

I couldn’t believe this made it into the Sunday NYT.

The KT List: Beach Edition August 21, 2009

I’ve spent a good part of the summer at the beach. From my many trips alone with the girls, we know I’ve concluded one important thing: husbands are good for hauling crap onto the beach. Divorce would be bad.

I’ve also had a few months to put together my list of beach essentials.  Before you go on, a few notes. First, I am not a minimalist. If you are a minimalist, then KT’s beach survival list is not for you. Also, this list is particularly useful if you have more than one child. I didn’t necessarily need all of these things last summer. And well, I’m a gal who likes to need and collect things, so I do not say that lightly.

I made my peace with the true fact that I am no longer able to toss a few gossip rags, a bottle of water, some sun block (who the hell has time to apply sun block anymore?), and a cheesy beach read into a cute straw beach bag, grab a chair and hit the beach. Those days are long gone. As they are for you. So here goes, kittens.

Topping the list, without a doubt, is the very thing that saved summer. If you are a regular beach-goer, then this item is a must have. Easily the best $80 or so I’ve ever spent. And once you own one, you will note that it is like a veritable convention of these surrounding your beach camp each and every time you go. And if you relish in shopping, as do I, then you will size up the cousins of this contraption and determine that your deluxe model, with it’s big wheels fit for pulling over sand with relative ease (for the husband, of course), was well worth the extra cash.

Behold the Wonder Wheeler Deluxe - in all of its plastic perfection and big wheeled glory.  It is the ultimate visual representation of parenthood, of dorkiness, the minivan of the beach, if you will. Being seen pulling or standing close to one of these tells the skinny bikini clad teens and young lovers around you that you gave up on being cool a long time ago. And as I went to dig up the link – don’t think my stomach didn’t turn upon realizing this life-saver of summer is now on sale for HALF PRICE. The rush I get from a great deal on a great item keeps me going for months, I almost want to buy them in bulk now and then sell them to others at the onset of Memorial Day 2010.  The only thing this summer champ can’t do is carry a baby – and don’t think I didn’t consider where a baby might be strapped in, similar to a baby bjorn, thereby freeing up both hands of one parent (the one clever enough not to be pulling or pushing the WWD).  I considered how the sturdier baby just might be fine sitting in the main basket. Trust me, desperate times call for desperate considerations.

So now that I’ve tipped you off on the ease of transporting all the gear, including chairs and the ever-important beach umbrella, to and from the beach, let’s now get into the actual gear.

Surviving two hours on the beach with two children under the age of 4 is no small feat.

Because DD2 was immobile way back in May, and in my naivete I presumed she would be immobile all summer long as was her sister, I purchased the covered tent for baby. As luck wouldn’t have it, she was crawling shortly after July 4 and so she maybe played and napped in the thing twice before she spent her next visit pushing her head up against the mesh netting that was zipped closed and them promptly began screaming bloody murder for someone to retrieve her. So – it worked well for DD1 and was a total waste for DD2, and as any self-respecting shopping lover would do, I lost the first tent from DD1. So we have this useless second one. IF she had stayed immobile, as I had planned, then it would have been a real asset to our beach-going experience.

Which brings us to our second question: how to keep the mobile baby distracted long enough not to eat a pound of sand each beach visit?

Enter the baby pool. You got it. We are big fans of the baby pool on the beach, steps from the ocean, filled with like 3 centimeters of water. I don’t think the baby pool will be useful for us next summer, but it was a life saver this summer and because DD2 would play in the pool with rubber ducks and whatever else she could find, DD1 was then interested in playing in the pool and ripping all the toys from DD2 hands (read: enabling some ‘relaxation’ time for us away from playing “let’s jump waves” in the ocean).  The baby pool gets ranked second for me after my beloved WWD.

In case you’ve lost track, you are now hauling several chairs, a baby pool, a baby tent, gobs of beach toys, towels, a cooler, snacks and a beach umbrella to the beach. If you are anything like me, you are wondering why in the hell you are even bothering.

Which brings me to the joys of applying sunscreen. I don’t know about your children but applying sunscreen to DD1 is like chasing around a chicken whose head was just cut off. As it turned out, the Coppertone Water Babies sunscreen in the form of roll-on, that she could apply herself (Miss “I’m three, I can do it by MYSELF”), eased my pain and misery. I can’t recommend this product enough if you don’t already have it or if your child hasn’t turned into the taz devil yet when trying to apply sunscreen.

And finally, let’s end with me. I still haven’t found that fabulous, stylish and practical beach cover-up.  Happy summer kittens, there isn’t much left to go.

Doubt August 14, 2009

A therapeutic phone chat with a KT BFF earlier this week is prompting today’s post. I don’t know if misery loves company or if I always feel better just knowing that I’m not totally failing nor am I alone in my doubts, but it was just the sort of conversation I needed.

The thing is, I am typically a very confident person. I don’t really waiver on things or get all insecure. And we know I certainly loathe mommy guilt. I think it’s BS.

Don’t worry, I have gone all rogue George Bush on you, I’m not above an apology or admitting when I’m wrong. And I know how to pronounce simple words, like “nuclear.” Though it seems I yell these days more than I’d like too.

Anyhow, the continued growth and development of DD2 is a fabulous thing. She is 100% goofball, all smiles, and she is very active, crawling, cruising and working very hard to walk in an effort to keep up with her busy older sister. What this means, however, is that each day she becomes more time consuming.

And seeing as how there is only one of me and two of them for 10 hours a day, I am spread real thin. This is a phenomenon that is taking a lot of time for me to adjust too. It’s huge.

The thing about adjusting to life with two, is that it’s a long slow process, thank god. In those beginning months, the baby doesn’t do anything but sleep eat and poop, as we know. While those things are more time consuming than I had remembered them to be, they are basic and simple tasks, and generally we felt that DD1 had no real change in her life with the addition of a new baby sister. At first.

But then DD2 kept growing and getting more active and seeking more attention. And this is what leaves me riddled with doubt most of the time.

Before I quit working and spent my days at home, I imagined how my time would be spent. In reality, my time is split between shepherding between the needs of both girls, intercepting the breaking of fingers of the baby, cleaning up messes from art projects and cooking projects with DD1, tearing through the playrooom like a crazed maniac as DD2 heads for the very dangerous and small parts toys from DD1 things that I was just sorta hoping she wouldn’t notice even though I knew she would, and changing diapers and giving bottle feeds and other meals.

Etc etc.

My point – the amount of “quality” time where one of them is getting my attention is very limited. Like barely any of it. This is hard for me to get my head around. It leaves me wondering, could I be spending my extremely limited “down time” differently to give them more attention, especially DD2. It seems that she’s always just sort of hanging out. When she is playing, I figure she’s happy and she can play without my full attention (unlike DD1), so I leave her be. If I hear crying, I actually ignore it until it reaches some kind of fever pitch because I figure they are working it out.

Yes. An 8 month old is working it out. You’ve heard of that before, haven’t you?

Anyhow – I find myself stuck in a place that is new to me – this place of constantly second guessing myself and worrying that there isn’t enough of me to go around. Again, no guilt, just some difficulties in adjusting to life with two. A life that is never dull for one moment, that is for sure.

Crime & Punishment July 26, 2009

All of you avid KT fans out there know that we talk a lot about disciplining preschoolers here on KT. I have a veritable hoodlum living chez moi and as any parent knows, we must creatively re-invent our punishments constantly, otherwise they fall on deaf ears.

My current punishment du jour is this “If you land in 2 time outs, then you don’t get a popsicle for lunch.” (This is usually threatened by oh – about 6:24am, with the first time out locked in by 7am. And of course, I am pretty generous, for to use the timeout too much with my hoodlum is a total waste of time and energy).

It’s working. But this one has only been used for a few days.

Ahh…behold the power of the sweet, easy to melt, unbelieveably cheap popsicle. Who knew?

The old rules chart worked pretty well for about 2 weeks. Then it lost its luster. The cheap thrill of drawing a smiley face next to one of the followed rules quickly grew boring. And really, who can blame her.

I’m thinking of bringing back the rules chart, however, as it’s been a few weeks and I scored some new stickers at Target’s One Spot (where, am I alone in this, I easily wrack up like $20 to my final bill because not everything is $1).

But here is my current dilemma – finding a punishment that solely punishes DD – not me. I am not alone here people. If I take away, say, cartoons – then who am I really punishing when the going gets tough?
Me.

So I try to take away things that I either don’t care about (like popsicles) or things that tend to drag on into perpetuity (songs, stories at bed time).  Again – I should get a reward for having to endure the crime, no?

What I’m desperately searching for is a creative list of things I can also take away from her that again, only punish her, and not me. I am all ears for any ideas here…..please….I bet of you……help a sister out.

Here is a list of some offenses that warrant punishment:

Pinching mommy because she doesn’t like what I’ve just said

Assaulting baby sister under the guise of “gently playing like such a good big sister”

Taking all of baby sister’s toys away from her and then hiding from her – with the toys- because she can now crawl

The old power trip that started with the arrival of baby sister “No, I don’t want daddy to take me out of my carseat, I want mommy to do it” (because mommy has baby sister, basically whomever is preoccupied with baby sister then becomes the only person who can complete the task and this gets old after about 10 seconds but a heartfelt battle inevitably ensues several times a day complete with kicks and screams)

I could go on and on with the lists of crimes but what I’m looking for are creative punishments. And spanking – doesn’t work on this kid – I tried it. I was never sure if I would spank her. Not because I am opposed to spanking but because I just never was sure if the crime would warrant the spank. Oh indeed, that day did come and it was just obvious that the only appropriate response would be to spank her and then send her to her room.

She didn’t care. And she also likes going in time out. I’ll say “Do you want to go in time out?”

And her response is “yes.”

OK then.

Hence the need to take things away…things that only punish her and not me…..put your thinking caps on kittens…..for I am all ears.

Signed,

Pleading for ideas

Staying Home July 21, 2009

I’m 3.5 months into my new stay-at-home gig. Everyone loves to ask me how it’s going, am I getting bored yet, will I go back to work, do I like it, what is different now?

Here’s my view on adjusting to life at home after a 13 year career.

First – am I getting bored yet. I love that one. The answer to that is a resounding – NO. I dream of the day when I have time to actually get bored. Don’t you?  The correct question would be this – are you frustrated yet?

The answer to that is – it depends on the day but frustration is, indeed, a frequent and regular part of my daily routine. But I’m preaching to the choir on that one.

Will I go back to work?

I have absolutely no idea. Perhaps the novelty hasn’t worn off yet but I wouldn’t even consider going back to work right now even if some opportunity came knocking on my door. Which it hasn’t. I love being home, frustration and all. I love taking and picking up DD1 from school, I love spending my days with them, I do not even think about going back to work on my worst days.  It’s also very liberating for me to just have no career plan. It is what it is. I am home. I dig it. I am aware every day that I am lucky to have the opportunity to stay home.

One thing that is very different is my stress level. I enjoy not having to worry about a nanny being sick, if the nanny  is keeping the baby on a feed schedule, let alone the annoyance of not finding things in my own house because someone has been there all day. Of course, there are stresses that come with staying home all day – so again – it’s all just different – but I like it like that.

What is different now?

OK. This one is something I think about a lot. The truth is, I am barking at and frustrated with my husband way more now than I was before. Is this because I am home or is it because life is just harder with more kids? That I don’t know the answer too because for us, both things happened at basically the same time. But this is just the truth. You read KT because I tell it like it is – this is my new reality. Is there more bickering because we are still adjusting to life with 2 in combo with the ongoing challenges that come with a more sophisticated older child? Perhaps. The topic of discipline or failure to discipline- is a hot and regular topic around my house – and trust me – no one’s ripping their clothes off over this hot topic. The only thing rising in anyone’s body is my blood pressure.

And am I barking at DH more because I am home more now, therefore I am doing more house things – like picking up and laundry – than I did before – or am I barking at him because I spend enough time picking up after two kids, I don’t need or want a third to pick up after? I’m not sure. But don’t think I haven’t hatched a plan that includes shoving his boxers that are dropped at the foot of the laundry basket (I’m seriously not even exaggerating), or his socks strew in random rooms (did he find them there? No.) – into his pillow case – and just waiting to see how long it takes him to notice. I mean, why shouldn’t I? Do the boxers or socks belong in his pillow case any more than they belong at the foot of the laundry basket (I mean, come on) or on the dining room floor?  

So there is more barking and argumentative conversations than there was before. Would this be the case if I were still working full-time? Possibly. Would they be about different things? Probably.

So what next?

Despite the bickering, the frustration and the endless laundry, I couldn’t be happier and love not sitting behind a desk all day. Is it true that I secretly dread August, what with no camps, no grandparents in town and no help? Probably. But me and the girls will survive – we have fun every day.  It’s totally worth it.

Divide and Conquer July 15, 2009

When I was pregnant the second time around, I didn’t read one book about it. Why would I? Lord knows it didn’t do much good to read many books during my first pregnancy. But what I did notice was that there wasn’t much out there about the second pregnancy – or really any subsequent pregnancies once you’ve been through it before.

I wondered why because well – it actually seems like there are still lots of questions and unknowns when you are pregnant the second time. Perhaps you suffer from too much information, ranging from the reality of delivery to the reality of life with a newborn. But I know I still wondered about all the other unknowns – what would this baby be like, how would my first child adjust to life with a sibling, how would we manage it all?

That one didn’t haunt me like the general notion of actually being responsible for a life haunted me the first time around, but I sure did wonder how we would manage it all.

I would ask DH this question some nights when it was really gnawing away at me. As usual, he was super laid back about it and just figured it would work itself out.

Uh huh.

Well, 8 months in, it has definitely worked itself out and we are managing it, just like everyone else does. But there’s just one thing I didn’t anticipate and sometimes it makes me sad. Often times, the easiest way to manage it is to divide and conquer. One takes DD1 out to some fun activity (which realistically with a 3-year-old is somewhat draining and leaves that parent asking themself this question: was this really worth the effort, let alone the cash?), and the other stays home with DD2. During the week, DD2 is toted around at the whim of DD1’s schedule. She spends more time in the car seat in a week than DD1 did in the first year of her life and the poor kid only gets a consistent nap in the afternoon when DD1 is also napping.

Therefore, on the weekend, when there are two adults around, we must let DD2 have the sort of day that DD1 enjoyed her whole life. So given the realities of a baby’s schedule, all the bottles, the meals, the naps, the poops, etc, one parent spends much of that day at home.

Ultimately it becomes the easier day, so technically that is the “break” that say one parent might have gotten in the days of yore when there was only one child at home. But it means we’re not out experiencing things as a family.

July 4 fireworks? DH stayed home with DD2.

Concert on the boardwalk last saturday night – grandpa is finally back in town – so he got to stay home with DD2.

Santa visits last December? I stayed home while DH went out with DD1.

You get it.

I just didn’t anticipate this one.

I know this will change as DD2 gets older and ultimately has an easier schedule, feeds less, naps less, etc. But for now, divide and conquer is the name of the game each and every weekend.

Adult Conversation July 14, 2009

Over the course of the past two days, there has been a really interesting dialogue in the Carolyn Hax column of the Washington Post about having adult conversations when toddlers are afoot. Yesterday a woman wrote in about how she drove two hours with her toddler to visit her sister, who has no children, and she spent the visit chasing after her toddler in the sister’s house to avert disaster and the destruction of the sister’s house, leaving no time for real meaningful adult conversation. The sister without kids went on to chastise her for being unable to give her attention, let alone control her toddler. According to the sister without kids, she’s seen plenty of moms handle their toddlers and have perfectly normal adult conversations.

Uh huh. Bite me, sister, is what I would have written in response if I were Carolyn. Aren’t we all such great parents, until we actually become parents?

Anyhoo, as we all would guess, there is now a firestorm of comments from both those with children and those without, warranting a follow-up column in today’s Post.

Here’s the rub, I find the comments from those without children to be fine, whatever, until you are personally managing and in charge of a toddler, you cannot possibly know what it is like and how the notion of an adult conversation beyond some sentences, constantly interrupted, is impossible.  I actually don’t pretend to expect the other adult to understand it. I deeply appreciate it when they are patient and bear with me and keep their patience with my curious kid.  But they can’t know what it is like. I couldn’t have known what it is like until it became my world.

It’s the parent who also has children who passes judgement that enrages me. Either their precious cherub is still too small to behave this way – so they have no f’ing idea what kind of ordeal is speeding right into their world, or they somehow lucked out with a toddler who is just obedient and sits still and isn’t disagreeable.  For those of you laughing and spitting your coffee over your computer at this notion, trust me, it can happen, I’ve seen it a few times and am still annoyed, envious and generally irritated that that is their reality. I just figure we all get ours some day, so at some point that miracle kid will act out, even if  they’ve made it several years into life being an angel. But as parents, why the judging? Why the assumption that you are a fabulous parent and the one with the curious and boundary-pushing child is somehow less than you? Why the belief that their kid is a monster and yours an angel? Why? This is what I find unacceptable.

Carolyn points out in one of her responses that what many people forget is that the parent of this curious-challenging child is the one who is the most desperate of all for a break, for some adult conversation, let’s be honest – for their kid to sit still for one freaking minute- but their job is to remain patient and continue setting boundaries – thus rendering meaningful, uninterrupted, adult conversation – impossible unless the child is sleeping and a babysitter is hired.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the constant, daily challenges that DD1 presents not only beat me down but they make me far less judgmental. Maybe sheer exhaustion and no more patience does that to a person, but the bottom line is this – the challenging child is nothing if not humbling.

So like – why do other people just assume that as a parent, we would actually rather be chasing around a kid, than having an adult conversation? Or that somehow we have failed because our kid is restless? Perhaps the hard truth is until you’ve walked a mile in those shoes, you can’t really get it, but I doubt it.

Maybe other parents just feel better about their own parenting and their ability to produce perfect progeny, if they judge parents with challenging children? I mean – isn’t this the reason we watch shows like Super Nanny and Nanny 911? Everyone says they watch it to learn discipline techniques, but really, isn’t it also to watch those train wreck families and feel better about yourself and your family?

Who knows.

All I know is I long for the day when adult conversation is possible. When the kids can go down to the basement and play and duke it out and I can sit upstairs and have some wine.  And I’d like to think my colorful and curious children are just making me a more interesting person, along the way, by keeping me on my toes.

If anything, maybe they are giving me years of conversations to save up for the future, because lord knows I have almost no time for adult conversations now.

Sibling Torture July 7, 2009

DD2 is now fully sitting up on her own and is probably days away from crawling (which for those of you who know me – know that I dread. I firmly believe mobility is grossly over rated). Yesterday I was out for a late afternoon walk with the kiddos (read: the only way to survive pre-dinner time) when I noticed something happening in the stroller.

And what I’m asking you is this – is it wrong that I took nothing but sheer and total pleasure from it?

What was it, you asked?

A hot italian man suddenly landed in my stroller?

Dinner arrived, cooked and hot, ready to eat?

A maid service swooped in to scrub my house from top to bottom?

Someone did the endless loads of laundry chez moi?

Mais non!

It was even better than someone finally finding the perfect swimsuit cover-up for me – stylish but functional – and not long sleeves. Why do people make long sleeve swimsuit cover ups? Where are they swimming?

It wasn’t any of those things. Though I am quite open to any of those things arriving chez moi this afternoon. I’ll leave the stroller parked out front just in case.

Here is what was actually happening: It was the first time DD2 was irritating the shit out of DD1. And I LOVED IT.

Is that wrong?

I mean – I was ready to do a jig. Afterall, DD1 has gotten quite good at being, well, irritating, when she wants to be – so to watch her little sister just be irritating to her (and not me – no one was irritating me for once) - was oh so satisfying.

See, DD2 now likes to remain perched up in her super cool new sitting position in the stroller and being a second child, she’s more like Bam Bam than Pebbles. She learned early on that a gal has to be assertive and forceful to get what she wants when there is someone older and more advanced in her motor skills around – so DD2 – she doesn’t just lounge back in the stroller. Plus she intuitively knows that whatever DD1 has is more interesting or more delicious to eat – so she tries to get it.

DD2 spent the entire 20 minute walk trying to yank the baggie of treats out of DD1’s hands, trying to rip the sippy cup from her hands and trying to gnaw on the enormous book DD1 brought along to read (yes, definitely a strange choice on DD1’s part, but who am I to discourage reading? Even when the book is the size of the stroller seat).

For once, DD1 was on the defensive and was being irritated. Now, I will hand it to her, she was extremely patient with her and didn’t act out. I realize this will grow old, DD1 will start reacting, DD2 will get hurt, it will all end badly, and I won’t have the time or chance to be so amused at these antics anymore.

But for once, it was so fun watching someone else irritate DD1. She has earned it, that is for sure, and really – seeing as how I have two little sisters – what good are little sisters if they aren’t good at irritating big sisters?

And why have two kids if you can’t take pleasure in watching one child irritate the child who is usually doing the irritating?

Cheap Labor July 2, 2009

I’ve been down at the beach with the two girls for the past three days. It is untrue to say that I am alone because, well, the girls are people too, but they are helpless, therefore I am alone with a 3.5 year old and a 7 month old. I believe that every time I venture out of the house, this question is relevant “Is this trip more effort than it is worth?”

I knew the answer to that question before I left home was a resounding yes, but still, it’s summer, shouldn’t I be at the beach with the girls?

But see – the logistics are very complicated. How does one tote all the beach crap, a 7 month old and a 3.5 year old onto a beach by themsleves?  Let alone watch a baby to make sure she doesn’t get stolen (or more realistically, swallow too much sand?) when the older sibling is apparently a daredevil and has no fear of 10 foot waves or the fierce Atlantic undertoe? The only way I pulled the beach trip off was because we met some friends from school on the beach, who after witnessing DD1’s extreme obsession with huge waves and no fear, admitted that they would have never believed it until seeing it with their own eyes. She is insane. I like that about her but sometimes, sometimes, it’s hard. Perhaps she needs some mud and a dirt bike next?

So yesterday, as my friend was helping me trudge the stroller and the crap (which I signficantly minimized as compared to what I usually pack up when say, darling husband, is here) all of this leaves me reaching the same conclusion:

Divorce = terrible idea

Dads = awesome cheap labor

Particularly when it comes to toting lots of crap and small children onto and off the beach, pulling around toddlers in the pool, and preventing small children from getting swept off to sea.

These are dad jobs in my house.

Dads = good.

No dads at beach = difficult time.

I have no problems shutting down and “playing in the sand” at the beach while DH races back and forth to water with DD1, and fills up endless amounts of water in buckets for DD1 to immediately dump all over the place. Someone has to take on the difficult task of keeping an eye on the immobile baby, right?

Right.

So we trash husbands a lot here – but today – I salute you, dear husbands!

And you better believe, mine has received several threatening emails about getting his ass down here – STAT.

Emailing at O’Dark Thirty June 17, 2009

Look – don’t pretend like you’ve never done this. And if you haven’t, I bet you’ve thought about it. And if you’ve seriously never found yourself in this position – then that annoys me.

Are we all familiar with the enraged email that you bang out – usually to your spouse – at o’dark thirty? When you know that you probably shouldn’t be sending it and you know it definitely isn’t productive – and odds are it might not even be his fault – but really – he’s the one who got you pregnant and it’s therefore it’s his kid that has you up at that time- and he’s not there to help you deal – so really – isn’t it oh so cathartic?

It just  might be oh so wrong.

But it feels just so right.

And frankly – very little feels right at 4am. When you’ve been up for an hour already. And you don’t know when it’ll end but you know the sun comes up around 5:30am, therefore DD1 (who is also the child of said male you are sending threatening emails too, therefore it’s his fault) will be up – so really – your day began at 3am.

So why send the threatening email at o’dark thirty?

Why the hell not. KT might have found herself doing such a thing on Tuesday morning. I was all by my lonesome. This was the second hard night I’d had in a row with DD2, it was absurd that she had been up since 3am.Meanwhile DH was peacefully sawing logs back at home, with nary a care in the world, and an empty house facing him when he arose that morning. He could take his time, slumber around, do whatever the f he wanted before going to work, when he woke up.

But me? Oh hell no.

So is sending the threatening “get your ass to work early so that you can get home at a decent time and give me help or you are dead f’ing meat because I’ve already been up for an hour and it’s f’ing 4am” email a good idea?  I’m thinking YES because it just feels great to bang that out. Now doesn’t it?

Haven’t you done something similar?

I know that I cannot be alone in this, kittens. Fess up.

But see – this brings up another topic. The threat built into the email. Even if you haven’t sent your DH a threatening email at 4am, admit that you’ve sent him a threatening email. And the thing is, I really have found that when they know we really mean it, we finally get some action. Why do they respond to threats or yelling? Cause I know we don’t want to hear threats and yelling coming out of our mouths (well, actually, frankly, threats at 4am when I know he is sleeping elsewhere is exactly what I want to hear).

But seriously.

Example – yesterday DH left his office and got home by 4:30pm.

FOUR THIRTY.

Granted he read that email bright and early and actually went to work at 6am. But still. 4:30. It was like a christmas miracle. And it just teaches me that threats work.

Another example – we bought these beautiful number tiles in Provence in June 2007 (back when we had only one kid and we were in France. Alone. Without her. In other words, the glory days of June 2007).  Now, until 2 weeks ago, do you think those beautiful house tiles, that DH himself picked out, had been hung? Mais non! They had been pushed around and the topic of countless discussions and nagging sessions for TWO YEARS.

Well, I woke up with a real bee in my bonnet that morning and really laid into him. And you know what? Those tiles were hung that very day – he just quietly got to work and got it done (in like an hour, I might add, so if you count up all the time I’ve asked, pleaded, begged, nagged and most recently yelled, I spent more time asking than it took to complete). They look so great and now the front of my house looks how it’s supposed to look – dressed up with numbers from Provence.

So why do they respond to threats and yelling? Why? Why? Why? Cause the truth is, unless it is 4am, I really actually don’t want to do those things.

Yet between coming home at 4:30pm and hanging my French house numbers – you think I’m gonna refrain from a little yell or a threatening email again, when the opportunity presents itself?

Oh hell no.

Am I alone here, kittens?