I never clean my backyard...

I remember growing up leaving my house in the morning only to return in the evening for dinner. We would play in the woods and make forts or go swimming in the nearby river. My mom never really knew where we were, nor did she worry. She always knew that we would be home for dinner. And if we weren't, then we would never hear the end of it...
That was then, this is now. First of all the world has changed and its just not possible to let your kids run free and secondly I now live in a city and have no woods or even a backyard. In our first house we had a small garden but once our family expanded we had t make the decision on whether or not to stay in the city, which meant having a backyard or not. We chose to stay in the city and have the city as our backyard (or this was my partner's argument to stay in the city).

Well, he was actually right. After just a month in our new first floor backyardless apartment, I set out to find the perfect backyard in the neighborhood. We are quite lucky because we live close by to Vondelpark which I call the Central Park of Amsterdam. In Vondelpark you can find several playgrounds for kids. Two very large ones, The Melkhuis and The Vondeltuin are very popular. Actually too popular and I often "lose" my kids for those few panic ridden seconds. Both have sandboxes but the Melkhuis has more swings, slides and other climbing things. Not to mention both have nice terraces for mama and papa to sit on and enjoy a drink.

Yet, now that my baby is mobile and all over the place these two major playgrounds are not a good option on a nice sunny day. So I have had to explore the Hood again and I have found the most amazing discovery. In the small playgrounds nestled deep into each section of my Hood lies the most amazing playgrounds. These are not playgrounds, these are backyards including yard chairs, yard toys, sand toys, bikes, trikes, swings, slides and secret hiding places in the bushes. These playgrounds are what every backyard should have and the kids go wild. It seems that people have just brought their old toys to these playgrounds and left them and there is an honor system to keep them there. It has changed my life! Now I just load the kids up on the bike and go. We dont have to pack up the sand toys or bikes or scooters. Everything is there! And the best part is that I dont hae to clean it up when we are done...I love my new backyard!!

In need of a good plumber...

Help, I have a leaky waste water pipes! And no its not the ones that you can just weld together. No, these are more of a delicate nature, these are my pipes and since I had children they leak, clog and sometimes even burst, always at the most inconvienent moments. Just last week, I had a sewage pipe burst on my way to work. At the very end of my 40 minute commute, I could feel the pipes clammering away and in just minutes later there was an explosion in the main valve. I was able to hold back just in time to run into our lobby restroom and release the pressure. It was a close call, but unfortunately not the only one. I have dozens of stories like this since I had my first child 3 years ago.

My guess is that the pipes got all twisted around after the two pregnancies and didnt recover. And of course NO ONE tells you that this could happen to your perfectly good waste system whne you have babies. NO ONE tells you about the leaks when you laugh, the leaks when you sneeze and the leaks that just make you wanna cry. From now on, I will tell anyone who is even thinking about having a baby about this possible side effect. And to get a good plummer beforehand!

Brain deader than ever...

Growing up, I used to hear my mom say quite often "It's because I am brain dead." Everytime she would forget something or she had to have something explained to her for the upteenth time. I can remember getting so frustrated with her when she would forgot something I had just told her 10 minutes earlier. I could never understand, how could a perfectly healthy and intelligent woman not remember things...

Well 25 years and two of my own kids later, I understand what she meant. I, too, suffer from being brain dead. I swear just four years ago I was an intelligent human being. I dont know what happened since then (other than years of sleep deprivation) but I have turned into this mushy brained person who forgets everything.

When it first started, I tackled the problem by just writing everything down, in an agenda. But that does not even work. I write it down alright. I dont forget to write it. I just forget to read the agenda. I have even tried to incorporate checking the agenda into my daily routine. Sure it worked for like a week, but soon my attentions were spread elsewhere and every morning I forget to take a look.

So, for me, there seems to be no solution. Maybe its the curse of every mother. But I doubt it. I see lots of mothers on Top of things with their agendas always open. No matter what, I am frustrated by the "disease". Better yet, my boyfriend is absolutely fed up with it. The only time we fight now-a-days is when I forget something. Its so bad that sometimes I remember things but I am so nervous that he is going to fuss about my "disease" that I forget seconds later.

There should be some kind of support group, like Brain Dead Anonymous, or Brainless Moms or why doesnt someone find a cure. Until then, I guess I have to put up with being brain deader than ever.

Broken hearts and guilt...

There is nothing worse than watching your son's heart break when leaving for work. As if i did't feel guilty enough, this morning, my son plastered his teary, snotty face to the bay window in hopes that I would get a last glimpse of his tortured soul, turn my car around, run inside and save him from the perils of daycare.

As I drove away, all I could think about was what if he figured out a way to open the window and jump from our first floor balcony desperately chasing after his mother. Yes, its a paranoid thought but then again I havent slept in 3 years, I am entiltled to be paranoid. So I thought about maybe calling "papa" (who was in the shower when I left) to reassure myself that my son was indeed in one piece.

Yet, as I reached the end of my street, I came to my senses. Luca was okay and he would survive the day at daycare. He would play with his little friends and forget all about missing his mommie. I would pick him up in the evening and he would tell me all about the excitement of his day. And even though this was almost always case, I still felt a twinge of motherly guilt for leaving my baby behind and going to work.

But I have to go to work. I have to have some sanity and feel like a part of the adult world. I am so sorry for my son but I have to think in the long run its better for him. If mommie is happy then hopefully it will make him happy. And for me there is nothing more valuable in teh world than to see my babies happy.

Trapped like mice

Bright and early this morning we were trapped in an elevator on the way up to the daycare. Trapped, all alone with two rugrats trying to press all the buttons and I had no phone on me. It was like being in a metal box with two little mice trying to pry the doors open. As I was peeling Charly's fingers off the "Open Door" button, I noticed a bright red "Ventilation" knob. That's when panic set in. Ventilation, how long do they expect us to be trapped in here? And why do we need ventilation, does the air suddenly get sucked out of the small enclosed metal prison. Yes, thats what I felt like, I was in prison. And I am in prison with two very impatient little people.

Luckily, we were only in there for maybe 10 minutes, but the experience made me really start thinking about my responsibilities of a parent. I guess I have always taken it for granted that when faced with a crisis situation my maternal-protect-my-kiddies-mode would kick in. But during the "Elevator Incident" I was overtaken by panic. I wasn't thinking about how to protect my precious babies or to stay calm for their benefit. No I flipped my lid. I panicked with a capital P. I was not the cool, collected parent I should have been. I was a scared little girl trapped in an elevator with two two potential time-bombs.

Questions, questions, questions...running through my head like a hamster on a wheel. Over and over I keep thinking about how I would protect my babies and what happens when something more serious happens? Am I going to lose it again? You never hear about mothers who panic or lose it. Mothers always protect and stay calm. Motherly instincts take over. So what happened to me and how can I fix it? Does this mean I am a bad mother?

Big question, where WERE my motherly instincts. Maybe they were still sleeping, or maybe I dont have very strong ones. Or maybe they have disappeared all together. I can't figure it out and since you never hear about other mothers losing their motherly instincts or panicking in situations, I guess I will might not ever figure it out...

Birth control

Two days without sleep. Two miserable sleep deprived long days. And its a job that requires 24/7 full time duty. There is no time off until the day you die and i am sure even when you are in heaven you are still worrying about your children. Once that little screaming piece of meat pops out, life as you know it, is over. Over. Nothing is yours anymore. Not even your thoughts. Because every second of the day you are thinking about your children. Every decision you make leads back to how it will effect your child. Yep you are a slave to the life of mommyhood.

But then one of the thousands of seconds that you waste in a day staring at the face of this little wiggly blob, you just happen to get a glimpse of yourself. Whether it is the way your babies toes curl to the right or the way she sleeps with one hand behind her head. You see yourself. Then its too late, your heart is eternally imprisoned and you begin to live.

The God of Hairy Legs

The God of Hairy Legs has spoken...my legs are to resemble those of a bear or better yet, a Sasquatch. Because that is what i felt like after months of having no time to shave and months before that, of not even being able to even see my legs.

Yet, today was to be a new day, I finally got the nerve to put on my bathing suit and take my son swimming. I was going to shave (ok I kind of have to) and finally attempt to feel somewhat like "The Woman" I used to be in 2007 BC (Before Children).

So I am in the shower, lathering up these legs that look more like something you would find in a zoo, and I start my first row of shaving. Well I cant even plow an entire row without having to clean out the clogged up razor. I knew right then I was looking at going beyond my allotted time to take a shower. Charly would sleep for another 10 minutes and Luca would only play about 10 minutes in his room without realizing my absence.

Sure enough, I finally completed the first leg when I saw little fingers prying open the shower door. I thought fast and gave him his toothbrush with toothpaste. A toothbrush with toothpaste is like Crack to Luca. He will suck on the toothpaste for an hour if you let him, you just have to keep dabbing a bit of the paste on the tip for him to keep up the addiction. He would suck and then wait patiently by the door for his next hit. It was a long shot but I was hoping it was enough time to get the other leg shaved.

He shut the door after the first dose of toothpaste. I thought to myself maybe he just wanted to see where I was and he would go back to his room to play. WRONG! This is where I think the God of Hairy Legs intervened. Angered at the destruction I was doing to such a fine specimen of hairy legs, I think the God had a hand in what was to follow because my angel Luca could never think of such a thing on his own : )

Charly's bed was not even three feet from the shower door so I could see her while showering. Well not a few seconds after Luca shut the door did I hear Charly coughing and choking. I knew immediately what was happening. Luca was trying to brush Charly's poor little non-existent teeth. Mid-shave I flung the door open to see my little devil running desperately out of reach of his raving mad half- shaved naked mommy. Dripping wet over the victim I was able to see no harm was done as Charly licked the minty paste from her lips.

Mission to save any feeling I had to be a normal woman was aborted. Shower time was over, with one leg shaved and the other with random stripes of cleanly shaven flesh. The God of Hairy Legs won and I will go to the swimming pool today, half woman half beast. And only dream of the time when the Razor and I may meet again.