Mama is an addict

Mama and Babies first visit to Amsterdam's Apple store's grand opening.

Hello, my name is Catina and I am an addict. I am addicted to Apple products. No not the ones you eat otherwise I wouldnt be shaped like an apple. I am addicted to the pretty white, shiny ones that have cool apps and keep me connected to The World of Adults.

I will never forget the day this past summer when my addiction first began. I held the little white i-phone in my hand, stroking tenderly the screen and not yet aware of the magic that was inside. I first downloaded the Facebook application and it went crazy from there.

I was connected to a world other than wiping butts and snotty noses. I was once again part of the real world, The World of Adults. I was free at last.

And then my bubble was burst...a fellow Mama i-phone Owner said to me (after I was bragging how much it had changed my life) how she had an addiction and she was trying to stay off of hers. What! I thought, what blasphemy! There was nothing more wonderful than the i-phone. I held my little baby tight and vowed I would never let it go.

About six months later and a million times of constantly checking my email, Facebook or whatever the fad app of the week is, I realize I have an addiction. My friend was right...Mama is an addict! Being connected to The World of Adults is not always a good thing. I became crazy reading the Mommy sites, forums and groups (which talk about crazy people, these mommies! That's another blog post) I went bananas seeing who commented on my Facebook posts. I was tired. I was beaten. I barely had enough attention to give to my smelly, snot-nosed babies much less my pretty little baby Apple.

So I have decided it's time to break my addiction. I only allow myself to creep Facebook or surf the net three times a day on my phone, for a start. I will slowly ween myself off Apple like I did my kids from the bottle...Slowly, taking one day at a time, and maybe finding a substitute, like my i-pad (just kidding, maybe not). I know there will be set-backs. I know the grueling path it will be, but I can do it.  I am going to control this addiction! One day I will be Apple free...ok well, not totally, I will always need to text message, call, check the weather, check the traffic...!

About to go down on the playground

The infamous Slide

WARNING: Red-neck post!
It was about to go down today in the neighborhood playground! It all started when we went to our park in the 'hood to play after school and Baby's Daddy's sister (my sister-in-law) and her son came with us too.

We were sitting there watching the kids play together on the Jungle Jim and actually having an adult conversation. The kids were climbing up and down the slide attached to the Jungle Jim, acting out one of their imaginary scenes, probably playing pirates.

In the meantime came along Psycho Mom and her little 3 year-oldish daughter. First of all, she was following behind her daughter like a body-guard, even climbing up the rope ladder behind her on the Jungle Jim. Then she followed her across the bridge to the slide where our kids were minding their own business playing. Her daughter wanted to slide, so our kids moved over politely (I was actually surprised) and let the little girl and Psycho Mom slide.

At first, I didn't judge Psycho Mom, I just thought in the back of my head, OK this was strange, but every parent was different. Then Psycho Mom abruptly scooped-up her daughter from the slide and that's when the psycho alarm went off.

Her little girl wanted to play with our kids and climb on the slide. But Psycho Mom immediately said "No" pulling her little girl just in ear-shot of where we were sitting on the bench. She began to lecture her poor child on how she couldn't help what other mother's let their children do, but she was not allowed to climb on the slide. She went on talking about how kids shouldn't climb up slides, blah, blah and other mothers should know this and other mothers shouldn't let it happen. Very loud!

What? Was she talking about moi? No she didn't!  I couldn't believe it. I looked at my sister-in-law and she had the exact same look of disbelief. Ok, so this wasn't a culture thing, this lady was insulting our parenting skills out loud and too chicken poo-poo to say it to our faces. I could feel my blood boil and the redneck beast raging inside. I felt my heart beat faster and my head started the "I'm-gettin'-ready-to-go-off-on-her" bobble.

I imagined myself stomping over to Psycho Mom, grabbing her by her already spiked hair telling her to "say it to my face." I imagined swinging her around-and-around like a lasso with my Super Human Redneck Mama powers until she apologized for questioning our parenting skills. She would beg me for mercy and say we were the best mommies in the world...Ahhhh the satisfaction...No, I told the beast, I couldn't set such an example for my kids, two wrongs didn't make a right.

I was able to ward off the Redneck-ness and I guess, out of defense, my sister-in-law and I just began to laugh, and laugh loudly, watching our kids Rule the slide. Even though we were both shocked at what had just went down, we kept it cool.


And we didn't give Psycho Mom the courtesy "look-away-because I sympathize-with you-and don't-want-you-to-feel bad" when her daughter began the tantrum of all tantrums. We glared at Psycho Mom's every move as she then struggled to strap-down her little girl twisting and turning into the buggy. We watched until she and her hysterically screaming child faded into the neighborhood sunset.

We turned our attention back to our dumplings, so sweet...giggling, enjoying life and throwing wood chips all over the slide, just being normal healthy kids. Revenge was sweet!

Pre-school pregnancy and Toddler gender issues

The Herengracht at night

My children are 4 and 2 years old and already my son has informed me he is pregnant and my daughter says she is now a boy. I'm a pretty liberal mama, but I didn't expect such issues this early in my travels through motherhood.

It all started with my son, who told me just before bedtime he was pregnant with his first child, a teddy bear. He even pulled up his shirt to show me exactly where the baby was lying somewhere around his lungs (he probably has fetus memories sitting on mine).

After a stifled giggle, I said "Ok, but sweetie girls have babies." 
"No mamma I'm gonna have a baby, boys can have babies too."
 His eyes danced with excitement and I couldn't be the one to ruin one of his very first aspirations. I just couldn't take that away at that very moment, there was plenty of time I thought. And he was so proud.

The next day the baby was gone, but a week later he was preggers again, but this time it was a baby girl. This cycle continued for a few weeks. And with each pregnancy I gave him a big hug and told him I couldn't wait to be a grandma.  I told him how much I loved his baby already and he agreed, he loved it too. For those few moments I saw 20 years into the future, or at least I hope so...

The Pre-school pregnancy phase ended just like all the phases before and I survived once again! Yay me! Now for the next phase: Naked butt dance in public...

In the middle of all the pregnancies, my daughter also told me about her life changing experience. I am on the toilet putting on the pee-pee on the potty show for her and she says, "Mama, im a boy."

My heart broke in half, "No sweetie you are a girl like mama."
"No im a boy like papa. I want a peepee."

"But mama is a girl," I said. "Don't you wanna be a girl like mama?"
"No, I wanna be like papa."

You could hear the knife go straight through my heart to the other side. "Ok, I said "you are mamas little baby boy then.''

So, now I have two sons and one of them keeps getting knocked up. What next? Do I dare even guess? No, that is the most important lesson motherhood has taught me. Love them through each and every phase. Now if I could just get my son to keep his moon in his pants!

The poop doesn't fall far from the tree..

I know I am always writing about poop. Whether it's poop in the pants, a poop smelling house, poop on the floor or poop on my stoop...I could go on forever and relate just about everything in my life, since becoming a mother, to poop. I can not escape, matter of fact, yesterday I opened the dryer door and out popped a mummified piece of poop (my son hid is poop pants in the towel wash).

So when I get released from my cage into the world, the last thing I want to see is poop. But I can not escape it. Not even on a leisurely stroll through my hood because it seems the trees have started pooping.

I know its a crappy photo (literally) but if you look closely you can see all the brown logs lying under the tree. Maybe the tree poops, who knows, its Amsterdam. But more than likely its some lazy dog owner letting their dog poop in this small square of nature in my nice neighborhood. And I suspect its the same dog because the logs are all the same size. Sick, I know.

Nothing angers me more than this lack of respect for the beautiful old city and fellow neighbors. Of course there are fines here, but who is gonna enforce them. I know I have said it before, but seriously, what would people do if I start letting my kids poop under every tree in the neighborhood? Maybe I should try it one time...the neighbor just freaked when my son simply peed in the front bushes (he couldn't make it inside). Better yet I should stalk all the medium-large size dog owners for their address and leave poopy diapers on their door steps...or under the trees in front of their house...I know, I have lost it...must be all the methane fumes!

One weak Mama...

I am one weak mama. I learned this about myself last week when my daughter had minor eye surgery. Nothing serious but she had to be put under anesthesia.

So in the operating room, I was Super mama, I sat there holding my baby in my arms while they induced sleep. I held myself together while waiting for her to go into the recovery. And then it went very wrong!

Church in Haarlem, a village just outside Amsterdam

I was finally called into the recovery room. I walked into the room and immediately saw my sweet baby girl so tiny in the huge hospital bed with an oxygen mask covering most of her face. I choked back the tears as the nurse led me to her side and sat me in a chair. I had to be strong for her. I sat there holding her limp hand until she woke up. I was Ok, I thought, I could do this, it was almost over.

After what seemed like hours, she finally woke up. She wasn't scared, crying or anything dramatic. She was actually perfectly fine, like nothing happened. Fine, until she sat up and volcanic eruptions of blood and other body fluids began to spew from her right nostril.

Anyone who knows me well knows that one drop of blood and I'm faint. A geyser shooting from my daughter's nose soaking the white hospital sheets and I am a disaster.

 I desperately scanned the room for a nurse, a doctor, a plug...anyone or anything that could help me at the single most horrible bloody moment of my life. All I could see was the other mothers in the room with their children, standing there, strong, stoic, perfect. Like Mommy-of-the-Year statues. I couldn't lose it...not now. Not only did I have an audience, but I had a two year old, who, in my paranoid-Mommy-mind was bleeding to death from her nose.

My daughter jumped on my lap and blood gushed once more, spewing across the floor. The room began to spin. I began to see spots. My heart was beating out of my chest and I was drenched in sweat.

The nurse finally came back into the room. I faked a smile and just nodded when she said the bleeding was normal for this type of procedure. At least that was what I thought she said. It was hard to hear her down the black hole I was falling in...

She left us immediately.What a relief I thought. I couldn't let her see me like this. I was a mother and mother's were strong in these situations. But I knew one more gusher and Nurse would be scraping me up from the floor. Me,  face-down and a failure in the single most important duty as a mother.

Thank goodness my daughter was fine and the blood bath didn't bother her a bit. I turned her around and looked at her face. BIG MISTAKE. Her entire face was smeared with blood and bloody goop and I could only see the whites of her eye balls.

Spinning, spinning, I was going down. I tossed my daughter up on the bed and I did the unthinkable: I climbed in the bed beside her. Through my tunnel vision I could see the strong mommies across the room gasp, probably in disgust. I had no shame at this point. I had to do whatever it took to stay strong, well actually awake for my daughter in this time of need .

Just at that moment, the nurse came back in with a popsicle for my daughter. Yes, that was exactly what I needed. As soon as she walked away I began to nibble on my daughter's popsicle. Of course mamma's sweet girl decided not to share at this particular moment and telling me off loudly. I begged her for just one lick. Just one lick so mommy can stop the merry-go-round in her head.

I got no where with begging so I stooped even lower. "Just let mommy have one little lick-y and mommy will give you some chocolate later." "No," she yelled in her high pitched voice. The Strong mommies began to attack with their judging stares. I didn't care, I had to stay conscious. I grabbed it and bit off what was left. This wasn't about pride anymore, this was survival.

My world stopped swirling and I was able to get back into my assigned chair. The Strong mommies no longer stared and my daughter was none the wiser that her mommy was one blood squirt away from becoming the shame of the Recovery...I had held it together this time, but what if it was something really bad, like a broken bone or a fall that required stitches?

So looks like my kids will be going into a bubble soon...

A Pit-i-full Mama

I am a tired mother. I think its just implied if you are a mother, you go through most days with some degree of tiredness or just plain lack of energy. But I thought I was doing OK lately, not feeling as tired and somewhat refreshed  in the mornings. But I learned recently I was so, so wrong. I am still  Brain-Dead-Mommy tired. Just when I thought I was climbing out of the dark cave of sleep deprived mania, I was wrong.

I never thought the simplest task of just putting on deoderant would reveal such a truth. First of all, I am always impressed when I can even remember to put on deoderant. To others, I probably smell like a fresh bouquet of spring onions. But I don't have time to smell myself or I am too busy smelling poop and pee all day to even notice.

So when I finally had the energy to remember to put on deodorant, the bottle was empty. God only knows how long the bottle had been empty or when I even bought it. The label was in English so I'm guessing I brought it on my last trip to the States last summer. OK, now I am a little embarrassed.

Anyway, off to the supermarket I went and hit the jackpot: 3 for 2 deoderant deal. A year's supply (as long as I don't go wild and wear it everyday)!

A miracle occurred: the very next day after my shower, I remembered to put on my newly purchased deodorant. I grabbed the big pink bottle and I sprayed proudly away.

What a surprise! As soon as it hit my skin, it started to fill my armpit with a creamy foam. Not to mention drip all over the bedroom floor forming white blobby mounds. It wasnt deodorant, it was ladys shaving cream. Wow, my armpits were in shock! I barely have time to swipe the razor over them much less use shaving cream!

I read the bottle...sure enough, it was shaving cream. I bought 3 cans of shaving cream! I just stood there in tears, brain dead. Typical, I thought. That was what I got for trying to be a little human.

So, I had sticky arm pits and no deoderant. I looked at the shower, but I just couldn't do it. After all the excitement, I was too tired to get back into the shower and wash-off the shaving cream. I grabbed a diaper wippee and walked around the rest of the day with one baby-fresh pit and the other creamy onion.

In hindsight, the label Satin Care and Gel should have tipped me off. And what was I going to do with 3 bonus size bottles of ladies shaving cream? I am shamed into shaving for the next year....Ahhhh...I am tired just thinking about it!

Don't plug me in!

If this is the future, I need to put my kids on a strict diet! A few months ago I noticed these electricity charging outlets being installed in several places in our neighborhood. I thought they must be for Scooters or some type of motorcycle. I guess I'm revealing my Going Green ignorance, but I never expected them to be for charging Smart cars.

I assume these cars have lower energy costs, blah, blah. But only the single people and childless couples (who have lots of money anyway because they don't have extra mouths to feed and Butts to diaper) can use these money/energy savers for their transportation. If my family crawled out of this car, we would look like a cheap circus act trying to get in and out. And imagine trying to get all the kids paraphernalia in this thing. The diaper bag wouldn't even fit! I would then have to tape the duct diapers, wipees and toys to the roof of the car.

No thank you! I will keep my gas guzzling soccer-mom-mobile and continue to be broke as hell at the end of the month. Or they can add a Smart covered trailer to hook on the back to pull the kids in and call it the Smart Family deluxe! Then I will plug in!