A resolution not to make a resolution

This was once a resolution...maybe one day

Don't most if us make resolutions every year only to fail by the end of January?

I know I do. Every year I have the best of intentions to either get healthy, enjoy life, become a better writer, to even become a writer, to spend more time with my kids, to kick my sugar addition or to kick my Candy Crush addition...the list could go on forever and it wouldn't matter because I always fail.

By February I am feeling like the biggest loser (not the good kind like on TV) and get a bit down on myself for not being able to keep it up. And the failure cycle begins.

Every year it's the same, life gets in the way of my goals! Damn you life! Why is it every time I try to better myself you sabotage my best intentions?

Not this year! Nope, this year I am just gonna live. Of course, I will try to eat healthier, exercise more and enjoy 2014 to the fullest, but I will do it my way, no pressure. I will do it because I truly want to do it.

However, right now, on 2 January 2014, I don't feel much like making any changes. After eating candy for breakfast and dreaming about cheesecake for lunch, I can tell you today is not the day. Nope, today I will just live. Maybe tomorrow when I wake up I will feel the need to make a change in my life.

Besides, I am too exhausted from the holidays and all the nit picking. My scalp is raw from Listerine and Prioderm and most probably full of dead bugs and hatching eggs. That's life. Bring it on 2014!!!

The Louse who stole Christmas

Our new family shampoo

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring,

Not even a LOUSE...

Ok, that was definitely not true in my house this Christmas Eve. Nope, there was a party going on because along with the sugar plums, mama and papa louse were dancing, dining and laying little Christmas babies all throughout my son's and my head!  

And if you have followed my blog long, then you know that my biggest fear of the motherhood journey is the possibility of getting Lice!

Yep, Junior and I had the creepy crawlies for Christmas. I knew there was a case in his class last week and his head and mine for that matter had been itching, but I had been checking for eggs daily. NADA!

Then all of a sudden after Christmas brunch, I discovered not only was Santa busy on Christmas Eve, but also mama Louse and her egg laying machine - my son's head was full of eggs. 

My sis-in-law grabbed a comb and combed through my son's beautiful thick-as-hell-Lice-breeding paradise and what happened next changed my life: a live creepy crawly was on the comb.

I suddenly felt like I was in a bad dream where I couldn't run from the monster. I had avoided this fear for 40 years and now on Christmas day they show up.

Then when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the comb ran through my hair and out popped twin creepy crawlies.

I felt dizzy for a moment, but then quickly realized I had to take action. We had a Christmas dinner in exactly 3 hours. I had to eliminate these Christmas wreckers!

Thank goodness I had already bought a bottle of Listerine to kill those bastards just in case. An email was sent around last week warning parents that the LICE were rampant in Luca's class. You see, in Holland lice are very common and don't really have the stigma that they do in America. Thank God, or I would be double traumatized. The Dutch are very pragmatic and open about lice and Dutch mothers are always willing to give advice. I guess they have realized that it takes a village to get rid of the lice!

Back to my trauma...We rushed home and faster than you could say Santa Clause. We soaked our heads with Listerine under a shower cap and Saran wrap for two long mouth-washingly tingly hours.

Then I went on a bed stripping frenzy! I spent Christmas afternoon frying lice with Listerine mouthwash and washing everything in my house that could fit into the washer and dryer!

Our two hours were up and it was the moment of truth, time to comb out the Listerine. I bravely combed my own hair first. But I wasn't psychologically prepared for what happened next: dead lice everywhere. No way, this couldn't be happening!

I wanted to vomit, shave off my hair and run away. And that's when it hit me. It wasn't only happening to me, I had to comb out the corpses from my son's hair too.

I choked back the tears and the urge to cry for my mommy and grabbed my Mommy Balls. I WAS the mommy and I was going to kick these nasty little pest's ass. 

I combed my son's hair with vinegar until every little dead body was out. It was a battlefield and we had won this round. And I had the irritated burning skin on my face to prove it. You see, not only did I have a head full of alcohol based Listerine but I had also gone through a skin cancer treatment on my face days earlier that left my skin raw and peeling off. Dripping Listerine + Raw Skin = Hell on Earth. Merry Christmas!

After our treatments,we were on our way to the family Christmas dinner smelling all minty fresh when I suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of being proud of myself (because you know that's my new thing anyway). 

But seriously, I felt like I had just laid in a bathtub full of snakes and survived or let a thousand spiders crawl all over my body without dying. I survived my biggest nightmare and I felt like a full-fledged mother.

I know strange, but it was how I felt...at least until bedtime when I started processing what I had gone through earlier in the day. The images of dead lice and eggs kept flashing before me every time I closed my eyes. My head began to burn and I began to stress about having to harvest more eggs in the morning. I was battling a case of PTSD and there was no escape. All I could think about was what if there were more bugs in my head running around. I couldn't sleep.

Of course, the exhaustion from the day took over and I finally slept, but I was a basket case the next day thinking about how I was going to get rid of these invaders. I became obsessed and could only think about nits the entire day. I ended up cutting the eggs out of my son's hair and he ended up looking like a mangy dog. Yes, I went crazy.

But I am back to the land of the sane today. I realize it's just a part of life, it could be worse, most kids get them here, they are just bugs, they will eventually go away, its not the end of the world, they don't harm you, we are not dirty, it's all part of being a mother, blah blah blah blah.

But one thing is for sure, I will never ever forget the year the Lice stole my Christmas...I just hope they stay put in 2013!

Are you proud of yourself?

Well are you? Are you proud of yourself? For anything? How many times have you said to yourself, "Self, you rock, I am so proud of you?"

I can honestly say I almost never feel proud of myself.  I try because I know in my head I have lots to be proud of in my life. Yet, there is a little voice saying "Noooo, what matters is what other people think."

Maybe there are people out there who are genuinely proud of themselves. Not the braggers, over confident people, I am talking about the people out there who don't need people to tell them, "Wow, I'm so proud of you."

Well I hope I'm raising two of these such people.

You see, it all started a year or so ago when I saw Marie Osmond being interviewed by Oprah after her son had committed suicide. When talking about his death, she said the one thing she regretted was not asking her son if he was proud of himself.

When I first heard this, I thought huh, that's a strange thing to regret. Did she not regret telling him how much she loved him or how special he was as a person? I was actually kind of shocked at her regret.

Then I started to really think about it and finally my one remaining brain cell went off like flashing ambulance lights.

Why DON'T we ask our kids if they are proud of themselves? Who gives a shit what we think! Marie was right, I should teach my kids that the one person they need to be proud of is themselves and not worry about impressing others. 

So that's exactly what I have been trying to do over the past  year. Every time I wanna say, "Wow, Mama is so proud of you", I say instead, "Sweetie, are you proud of yourself?"

Of course, they first reply, "But mama are you proud of me?" And I then say "Of course, but what matters is if You are proud of YOU. They usually appease me and say "Yeah I guess so Mama". Even though these responses were vague and they only said what they thought I wanted to hear, I persisted.

And guess what? It happened!! Just last week my 5 year old built a Lego helicopter all by himself and he showed it to me proudly. His face was beaming, it was a look I had never really seen before. His head was held high and his chest sticking out.

And that was when he said it, "Mama I'm so proud of myself! And you know why, because I made this all by myself, I did it!"

He really didn't have to say it, I could feel it. Tears in my eyes I said to him, "And that's all that matters!"

"Self, you are far from being Mother of the Year, but you are hanging in there! I'm proud of you."

Goodbye 30's, you suck!

My list of 40 things to do on my 40th

When I turned 30, I cried for weeks leading up to my birthday.

Now I am 40 and I can't wait for the rest of my life.

Strange, I never thought I would be so happy about getting older.

Maybe because coming out of my 30's was like coming off the battle field. Don't get me wrong, many great things happened in my 30's, one being the miracle of having my two kids, but it wasn't all easy street for me.

Turning 30 brought on so many insecurities such as: was I on the right career path, would I ever find a baby daddy and even then, would I be able to even have kids. Especially since I was told in my early 30's that I would never be able to have my own children due to premature ovarian failure.

And once those insecurities were gone,  an insecurity tsunami struck when I became a mother. Top off being a new mother along with being thousands of miles away from the people I loved most and who loved me, I was Insecurity Queen!

For me it was an unknown territory, I had never been so unsure before in my life. I was far away from home and my support network. It was so hard. Every day was a struggle. But my saving grace was that at the end of every day my babies were healthy and happy. They didn't sleep much but they were happy.

However, there were days when I thought I wouldn't make it from all the sleep deprivation and exhaustion. I couldn't just call up my mom or my best friend to come over and give me relief. I had to solider on and looking back, i'm not sure how I made it physically.

Also in those 10 years I lost who I was. I didn't have time for anything ME and inside my mind I had to put my dreams on hold. I didn't have the energy to take care of myself. After having two kids in two years my body had transformed into some animal form, a cow or hog.

It was so bad, I didn't like to look into the mirror most days to be reminded of this person I had become. I didn't know her anyway. I didn't want to know her. I was ashamed.

My life only revolved around surviving. And I did.

I don't know why but about 3 months ago something clicked inside of me. Maybe my brain cells started cranking up again because I was getting more sleep. I don't know, and I don't care how it happened but it did: I decided it was time to stop surviving and start living. I was about to be 40 and fabulous!

So I crawled off the 30's battlefield, scarred but full of life experiences that no one could take away from me. I finally had the time and most importantly the energy to find me again. With both kids now in school, I started working full-time again, which really got those brain cells a buzzin'!

My confidence grew with each passing day and the motivation to start thinking about me snow-balled until I joined a gym, started eating healthier and realized it was ok to stand up straight again.

I was not that person I was at 30, but thank God! I suddenly realized that I survived these tough times because somewhere deep inside I was a strong person. Maybe I didn't brush my hair most days and I could only fit into yoga pants, but underneath it all, I was in there, fighting to the end and I made it! Finally, I was a butterfly crawling out of my cocoon.

And I couldn't wait to turn 40, for me it was the starting point for the best part of my life. I really have everything now: my two babies, my dreams and my self-respect back.

Like I said, it wasn't all negative, I have amazing memories with my kids. But now the memories will include the real me: a confident mother who, at 40 is following her dreams and living instead of surviving.

Maybe my 30's would have been different had I lived in my native America, who knows, I don't, but it doesn't matter now anyway. What matters for me now is living, being 40 and fabulous! This is awesome people!

Why the world should stop worrying about Zwarte Piet and see what's happening in Dutch McDonald's

Are you wondering what in the world could be more important than ending one of the most anticipated Dutch traditions for millions of non-racist children? 

Well take a look, canines are taking over the Dutch McDonalds.

This is an outrage! Call the UN! Someone needs to put a stop to this while we can. 

And to top it off, the McDonalds staff are feeding the dogs, welcoming them with McTreats! 

I am sure the McDonald brothers are rolling in their graves.  I am sure when they opened the first McDonald's restaurant they never imagined such a thing! 

Besides, the staff don't hand feed me McNuggets when I come to eat. It's discrimination people, I'm telling you before you know it our kind (human) won't be welcomed anymore.

What is next with these Dutch people? 

Mama, do you like your butt?

Mama, do you like your butt? My daughter asked me last night.

Not a question I expected after reading her a Curious George bedtime story. Where in the hell did this question come from?

Honestly, I had not thought about in a while. Did I like my butt? Well, I thought a lot about how big it had grown and how I wished it would fit in a pair of normal jeans, or how I wished it wouldn't hang out when I bent over. I tried for years to make it smaller, but of course, since having kids, I decided to give up.

But she asked me about now, at that moment, did I like my butt?

Then it dawned on me. “Yes, Charly I do like my butt.”

“Why do you like your butt Mama?”

Good question, why did I like my butt? Hmmmm…

“Well Charly, I like it because it’s mine, it’s a part of me and I like me.”

“But why do you like IT?” she persisted. I was in trouble; she wasn't falling for superficial answers. I had to be honest.

Then “Baby Got Back” started playing over and over in my head.

“Because it’s round and juicy, like a bubble”, I blurted out.

“Mama, you are silly, what does that mean.”

I thought about it again. Yes, my booty was round and juicy and would make Kim Kardashian's derriere look like a Pancake Butt. But I did like it. Yes, matter of fact I loved it!

“Charly, I like it because it doesn't look like anyone else’s butt. It’s not perfect and it barely fits in a pair of pants, but I love the way it feels like a cushion when I sit. It is very strong, it helps me lift you guys up and if I fall it helps protect my bones.”

Little did she know, that her Mama, almost age 40 was finally learning to love the goods God gave her.  I was far from perfect and why in the world would I want to be? Just because it was what society pumped into our heads from the time we were born as little girls? 

No, I was a real woman and my daughter needed to see that being a real woman was something to be proud of, something to love. I wanted to give my daughter a chance. I knew I couldn't protect her from what she saw in the media and heard from friends, but I wanted to be a role model for her. I wanted to be her base. I wanted her to see a healthy and happy person who loves herself, flaws and everything. I wanted her to be proud of her junk in the trunk!

This was the best gift I could ever give her and I decided from that point on, I would love myself, bubble butt, saggy boobs, muffin top belly and all. And for the first time in my life I meant it, thanks to my four year old daughter.

"I like your butt too Mama, it's soft and snuggle-buggle."

Tears in my eyes, I hugged my baby girl. "Charly, you are so right! Mama's got back!"

Why I think my son is the next van Gogh

I know, it oozes talent

Am I the only mother who could stare at something their child created for an hour?

God, I hope not. I hope I am not the only mother mesmerized by some drawing or clay figure their child has made.

No lie, when my five year old draws and colors one of his pictures of a shark eating a fish, I swipe it up from him like an original Monet and just marvel at his talent until the screams of “Mommy give it back” bring me back to reality.

When I look at his pictures I see nothing but brilliance. I see a story, his imagination spread out on a sheet of paper. My heart becomes all warm and fuzzy and I can feel the tears well-up in my eyes.

Now granted, if you or some other random person saw this picture then you would probably see a round blob with sharp teeth chasing other round blobs.

But I see a great white shark with his enormous killing power chasing a school of tuna through the raging sea. God my son is a genius!

Nothing you can say about these scribbles could ever change my mind…Nothing…ever…

And the thing that intrigues me the most is that I created this little person. I grew him in my belly, he came out looking like an alien and the alien grew into a little boy who is able to create such treasures.

I think that’s also why I collect every single drawing he has ever made.  I can’t even imagine throwing one away in the bin. It would be like throwing a little piece of him away, like an arm or a leg.

Ok, I am beginning to sound a bit Psycho-child-obsessed-Mom. And maybe I am, or maybe I am just so in love with my kids and hope that one day they believe in themselves the way I believe them.

Either way, I am just gonna keep on snitching these drawings from my son and plastering them all over my workspace. And I’m dying for my daughter to start creating masterpieces…the laundry will never get done then!