Why Men Think being a Stay-At-Home Mom is Easy

Today was my day to sleep in, a pleasure I insist on only when Zane pressures me to stay up late ("It's Saturday tomorrow!" Yeah, talk to me when the kids are teenagers). When I got up (at 8:40 because the kids came in to wake me) I had three projects for my OTHER other job. During this time Sabrina, with the instincts of a 3-year-old, found the graphite Zane has in his capacity of Cub Scout Leader And Pinewood Derby Fuhrer. Fortunately there was not much in there, because Sabrina (did I mention her 3-year-old instincts?)had previously emptied much of it. However, there was still enough to spread all over herself, the floor, and, of course, Sasha. Baths were in order, but Zane had to "go get wood for the fire."

I finish my projects, to find the kids have not eaten, but Zane has managed to play video games. While I showered, the kids emptied the remains of TWO cereal bags of the nasty end-of-bag crumbs. While video games were being played.

My hypothesis is, the men do whatever fun things they normally do, with little attention paid to diapers, meals, or bedtimes, and none at all to cleaning. Then they wonder why we don't have more time to work for their office. Silly men. To quote "An Arthur Christmas," "Thanks to my wife, who does whatever women do while men are at work."

P.S. I hope this post sounded affectionate and slightly patronizing, not irritated. I feel affectionate and patronizing, not mad. In case you were wondering.

Jemonis

This morning, Sasha woke up at 5:30. I think he has a cold, or at least is plugged up because of teething. Anyway, he was basically up, despite binkies, hugs, and (don't tell my dentist!) a bottle in bed. Fortunately for me, Spencer was with us last night, so Zane had to get up in time to take him to school. So, I got to sleep, er, stay in bed, until 7:45. Bliss!

I keep asking Sabrina what she wants to name the baby, hoping she'll come up with a good name that I can tell people about, and they'll say, "Oh, how cute!" Usually she just comes up with the name of another baby she knows, like Ross or Samuel. Today, though, she came up with "Jemonis." Sadly, though, this would be naming the baby after Sabrina's father, who died. According to her. She had a whole story about him being in the hospible, and "I can't believe it." It was cute, if a little morbid.

As you may know, my house got broken into yesterday. The criminals cleaned my house and left dinner. So, if that's you, can you come back? I made Christmas cookies last night.

Christmas Elf

Dear Christmas Cleaning Elf,

I got home looking forward to making dinner after cleaning the kitchen, and collapsing in a messy house. I was confused as I opened the garage, though. Why was it so organized? I knew Zane hadn't done it! Maybe Zane Sr. helped.

So, I brought my kids inside. There were some diapers that I knew were in the garage for the past three weeks. They were inside. Weird.

Then...the kitchen. Clean. With a note. "You've been kissed by the Christmas Cleaning Elf." Elf, psssht. You're an angel, no question. My house has been picked up, vacuumed, and dinner has been prepared.

My only regret? All those garments, the ones that are destined for the fire? Yeah, they were sitting there on the couch. You can just pretend those weren't there.

With gratitude,

Molly

Emerging

I know it's been a long time since I last posted. I feel like I'm emerging from a kind of dark place, where I didn't want to blog and cried a lot. Could this be my third pregnancy in 3 years in the winter, or the long-awaited Sargent genes making their appearance? I don't know, but I think it's some of both. Regardless, the light is coming back and I don't cry ever hour on the hour anymore, so onward and upward!

Sabrina is in the throes of potty training. I'm not sure exactly what "throes" means, but if it means tiny trickles in the potty, followed by a treat, followed by a big dump in her panties, well, that's the throes. Really, I feel I'm not doing a good job at this potty training stuff. She also hits her brother a lot. On the other hand, she shared with no prompting her candy cane with him that Santa gave her last night. I guess she can be on the "nice" list.

Sasha, in the past week or so, has had an explosion of talking. Not only can he say "mama" at 6:48 AM when I wish he'd practice "dada," but he can also say deer, dog, woof, kitty, keys, Sasha, grandma, grandpa, Dora, Spongebob (just kidding mom. Ha ha!), cow, meow, juice, bottle, and binkie, and many more! He recently came out with "Santa." Also, he now recognizes and can say "Jesus." Aw.

Yesterday I took the kids to see Santa. Sasha had fun until he actually had to sit on Santa's lap, at which time he started screaming. Sabrina, on the other hand, spotted Santa getting hot chocolate before his house opened, and just went and stood right next to him, staring up at him. Good thing he's so jolly! She went right up to him when it was her turn, sat on his lap, and said "I want a beautiful doll." She has also been known to say "I love Santa." I'm trying to impress upon her that Christmas is Jesus's birthday, but it's not sticking. Half the time I ask whose birthday is on Christmas, the answer is "Santa Claus." Well, she'll get it soon. Maybe when Benn is acting it out on Christmas Eve with the nativity scene.

My baby, growing up

Although Miss Sabrina is still crying and whining more (way, way more) than I want her to, she is just so sweet, and she's growing up good. The other day she came in and said, smiling like she knew how cute she was, "You make my heart super happy." Awww.

And lately, when being pregnant, having two kids, having full responsibility of the house and taking care of every bit of crap in my life, a job, another job, another job, and trying to keep clean clothes not just in my house, but actually in closets, kids throwing up and having diarrhea, having a cold, feeling alone, when all this seems to much and I resort to either weeping or tantruming, she says, "You be okay, Mom." In a sweet voice, while petting me and nodding. I feel so unworthy of her, when it's my own weakness that is driving her to comfort me. I'm supposed to be the grownup, and instead it's the 3-year-old. Yeah, that makes me feel good. I think I'll go talk to my daughter to feel better.

At the Doctor

I had my last doctor's appointment on Halloween. Yup, I'm pregnant. Not that there was any doubt, I just sometimes still can't believe it, despite the fact that I look about twice as pregnant as I am. Anyway, my doctor said with a very professional face, "Next appointment you'll be 15 weeks. There are some tests that check for fetal abnormalities that we can run next time." Well, I'm no pregnancy novice. I've played this game before. I asked him if there was a point to having the test done. He said, basically, you can find out if the child has Down's or spina bifida, so you can terminate. I then said, "So there's no point to having the test." I wouldn't say that he looked relieved, but you could tell doing abortions -- or referring out for abortions, whatever -- was not his favorite part of being an OB. He agreed there was no point to the tests, and besides, it's not a really accurate test.

I would be sad if this baby were physically imperfect. It would be really, really hard. But she, or he, is still my baby. That is all.

Halloween

We started as all good Americans do, by carving pumpkins. Sabrina told me the shapes, and I complied, as all good mothers.


Sasha was sooooo cute. I dressed him up as his daddy. Perfect, don't you think? I drew in the goatee and glasses with eyeliner. I think it turned out well.


Sabrina got a Snow White (No White, in Sabrinese) costume from Harmony. Hooray, I thought, Halloween done! Besides, I have a No White costume too!



I took Sasha to a few houses. He was really down with getting candy from the bowl, but wasn't so good at just getting one. He was really, really excited the first time he got some M&Ms. (By the way, did you know that one M&Ms is still plural? I think it should be one M&M, but no. I still refuse to say, "Give me one M&Ms." It just sounds wrong.)

Once I took Sasha home, Sabrina and I went out for ANOTHER HOUR. Every time I suggested she was tired or we should go home, she insisted, "I want more trick-or-treating!" She was very good at saying "trick or treat" and "danks" at every house. By the end she was asking me to carry her pumpkin because it was getting heavy. HER PUMPKIN WITH CANDY IN IT. You KNOW that means she was not in her right mind. That means I took her home.

Overall, it was a good Halloween.