It might be as little as “You put your toy upstairs.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Go check.”

“I didn’t!!”

It goes ’round and ’round like this. Grr. It’s like he’s a teenager already.

And he’s starting to get angry more often. He’s never really done that. Sad and frustrated, yes, and we know he’s a sensitive child. But he stomped up the stairs growling like a 16 year old, and The Hub and I just looked at each other and said, “What was that?”

I feel like we’re moving into uncharted territory, and as parents of a singleton, we don’t know what’s normal. We worry he suppresses his feelings too much (like when a kid was punching him in the stomach every day and he didn’t mention it for a week) and that that will come out in a bad way later.

I’m looking into books that can give us tips for how to navigate this rocky part of our lives. Any advice?

Our nephew, who is also 6, witnessed the death of a 10-year-old who was trying to catch the bus in Gulfport, MS. Somehow he tripped and ended up under the wheel. The entire busload of kids got off the bus (I think the bus driver was too freaked out to think to keep them on) and they all watched him die.

Our nephew was naturally distraught. I can’t even imagine how this will affect him long term. It sickens and saddens me.

Then in our neighborhood yesterday, a schizophrenic man beat the crap out of his mom. I didn’t even know there was a schizophrenic guy living down the street. He broke her back and messed her up pretty badly. As a mother, I can’t imagine the emotional pain she’s going through, in addition to the physical.

Sorry to be a downer today. It’s just that it jolts me into reality when something so.real happens so close to home. May you not have the same.

But then we get to the part where Mayzie, the flamboyant red bird, is sitting on an egg. Horton asks how she got in this predicament, and she proceeds to sing about a boy bird who wooed her and then left her. Alone. With this egg.

And now she’s bored and cranky, taking care of the egg, so won’t Horton please watch her egg while she takes the afternoon off? He does, and she flies away for the winter.

Am I the only one who sees this as inappropriate content for children’s play?? My friend who went with us did too. But when I searched online there is no one talking about this.

I’m not a prude. In fact, I’m pretty damn liberal. But this really bothered me. What purpose did this bird having a fling and being left with the egg, then abandoning it, have in the bigger scope of this fun, upbeat play??

What do you think? Have you seen it?

I’d wheedle myself into thinking it just wasn’t worth it. Bread is natural and is meant to be a part of my daily diet!!

But then I got over the hump. And since The Hub is such an amazing cook, I don’t even miss carbs (much). The last few nights we had chicken chili with lettuce and hummus. I’m stuffed. The meal definitely didn’t need a piece of bread.

So why are we so addicted to carbs? It’s sad really. They’re what make us gain weight, and they seem to produce a serotonin pleasure effect that makes them hard to cut out. Addictive. Why does every meal at a restaurant center around a carb?

Now, this isn’t to say I don’t try to wake up early to eat as many carbs as possible on the weekend. But I do notice when I eat more carbs I feel lousy. So I’m hoping that this diet will retrain my brain to be happy without carbs. Wine? Now that’s a different story.

My yoga instructor talked about guilt the other day. Interestingly, she attributed it to the Western world. I don’t know if they don’t have guilt in other countries, but she was right; we put ourselves through a lot of guilt for no reason.

I thought it would be fun to share our Guilt Lists and then (virtually) tear them up. Here’s mine.

• Guilt about not writing enough on all my blogs
• Guilt about not going to yoga as often as I like
• Guilt about gaining a few pounds
• Guilt about being impatient with Max
• Guilt about drinking too much
• Guilt about not being the kind of parent who volunteers at school
• Guilt about not dusting
• Guilt about not scrubbing the tub
• Guilt about not taking Max to play outside often enough

Looking at this list I see that none of it is earth-shattering. I think we as women experience more guilt than men. What do you think? And for what? It’s just another stressor in our lives.

So here and now I’m making a proclamation that we will deliberately work harder to NOT feel so guilty. The dishes can wait. We won’t blow up if we don’t exercise all week (or month). That hamburger will not go straight to our thighs.

Life is meant to be enjoyed. Let’s start doing that.

But unfortunately, I also have opinions. Strong ones. Most of the time they don’t get in the way. I love my friends and know that they make the right decisions, and I usually agree with them wholeheartedly.

But there’s this friend. Who’s been dating a crazy woman (I should say girl) for years. Seriously. Crazy. Like snakes in her head. She’s caused enough drama in his (and our) life to have her own reality tv series. And he left her. And moved far away. And all his friends cheered.

Til he moved back. And his Facebook status said Engaged.

I want to get over the fact that she’s falsely accused me of having relations with this friend. That she’s done things to him you simply don’t do in a relationship. That she’s butted in our business with this friend. That she is pure evil. I want to congratulate him and say “I wish you the best” and mean it.

But I can’t. I just can’t.

What do you do when you simply can’t muster up the enthusiasm to be happy for a friend?

By now, my heart is pounding and I’m headed out the nearest door. It was the back door. A glass panel had been broken. Full panic mode. I called the police and sat outside. The neighborhood gardener came by and looked around inside to make sure no one was there. No one was.

I became paralyzed with the fear that they’d taken the laptops. Of course they would take the laptops, right? Their thieves, so they would take the valuables. My entire existence at Egg Marketing is on 2 computers. Without them, I’m finished.

They didn’t take a single computer.

At first glance, it seemed they took a handful of useless jewelry (try hocking that, a##holes) and an empty purse. But wait, what’s that big blank spot on the dresser in my office?

Where my camera used to be.

My beloved Nikon that I have been telling myself I didn’t deserve buying for years. The one I saved up and so proudly bought not three months ago. Gone.

Upon further investigation, they also took my Flip camera (just as I decided to get back into vlogging) and the point and shoot we gave Max.

Bitches.

(Sorry Mom, there may be some ugly words in this post). And by “bitches,” I mean it. Turns out several of my neighbors saw two women in a white truck outside my house. They thought it was weird THAT ONE WAS WALKING OUT OF MY BACKYARD WITH A CAMERA BAG but shrugged it off. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They described the women and the truck but didn’t take down the license plate. So we’re sunk. I have no hope of my stuff coming back.

At first I was stunned. In shock. But now I’m fucking mad. Fuck! (sorry Mom). It’s such an invasion of privacy to have your stuff rifled through and the single most personal item I own taken. It hurts my heart.

And the hub said they had to be watching us and our patterns. Because the entire thing happened within 10 minutes of me leaving.

Of all the houses in all the world, they had to rob ours.

Looked out window. Saw snow. Snow?? Snow was NOT in the forecast.

“Hey Max. It snowed. Uhhh, I better make sure you have school.”

School cancelled. Great. I don’t have to pretend to get dressed.

We’re leaving for our trip to Montreal Wednesday, so mother-in-law, hereto referred to as Granny, was due to arrive this afternoon at 4. Cleaning spurts ensue in between bouts of work.

2 o’clock rolls around. She calls. Her connecting flight from Houston is cancelled. Hopes to get on the 7 pm flight. Doesn’t happen. By 7 pm she is comfortably nestled in the in-airport hotel and our nerves are shot. All plans shot to hell.

And to top it off, the snow is slushy and no fun. Spent longer getting suited up than actually playing in the snow.

A nice dip in the temperature means she’ll probably miss her early flight tomorrow, and who wants to mess with ice-covered slush-snow? Sigh. Hope we make our flight on Wednesday.

Still, I felt better at soccer practice. Day 1 there was a 6-year-old sobbing like someone was beating him because he did not want to play soccer. I watched his mom coax, cajole and threaten him out of the corner of my eye and I wanted to hug her. Because I understood. Max has done the same thing. (That kid is now the best player on the team a few weeks later).

At their first game, the son of a couple I’ve befriended started crying on the field. He wanted his mommy. She might have been embarrassed, but I knew how she felt. They eventually pulled him and took him home.

He’s not the only one.

When you have one child, you don’t have much to compare to. You can look at other kids but it’s the behind-the-scenes stuff you can’t measure. Is it normal? Are you handling it right? Know what I mean?

By the way, Max is ROCKING at soccer! He’s not the fastest, but he’s dedicated. Sigh of relief.

Not me. Not by a long shot.

I don’t mind the 5-mile walks. I’ve found a walking buddy and rather enjoy them (except today when I have a headache and it’s cloudy).

I do miss foods I didn’t even like before. Like Twinkies. Mmm. Or big gooey pizza. I start planning my Anything Day the day after. Liquor, bread, grease, sweets…this week I really want homemade cupcakes with chocolate frosting. Buttercream, not whipped.

I’ve realized how food obsessed we are in this country. Going to the grocery store is like trying to dodge land mines. Those hush puppies are calling me. LOOK AWAY! It is my hope that after I reach my weight loss goal I can better manage the carb addiction and not let it pack on the weight like it has done.

Time for another protein shake. Sigh.

]]> http://www.sometimesparentingsucks.com/losing-5-pounds-is-effin-hard/feed 0