Emma-Bug

Ya'll, this will put me firmly in the 'not cool kid' category, but I am not on Facebook. Honestly, and yes I do know there will be a certain amount of mocking concerning this, I'm not entirely sure what Facebook is. I mean I'm assuming it's in the realm of MySpace, but when I think of MySpace I think of sparkling unicorns, unbelievably bad homegrown poetry and 15-year girls typing things along the line of "JUDY N CHRIS, BFF4EVER!". Also, let's not forget about the pedophiles.

...and just like that I manage to alienate an entire cross section of the nice people who actually come here to listen to my ramblings.  You're welcome. 

What are you guys seeing because now? I'm a little freaked out.

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So my last post, yeah...

(and that's where we shall leave it because....embarrassing!)

In the perfect world where I have piles of money and time and possibly a pharmacist with compromising integrity, I'd be Angelina. I would have the Benetton family of snarky kids. But life sometimes doesn't offer you what you desire and more often than not, it's the path you are meant to take. Even if it is at times painful. I am immensely, totally, completely privileged and humbled to raise my girl. If she's to be my only child, man, I am one incredibly lucky woman.

Speaking of Sassy the Wee (you're impressed with my segue, yes?), she had her birthday party last Saturday. There were a lot of people in my house and I was incredibly twitchie because ....there were a lot of people in my house.

Why is it you notice how dusty and generally mopey your house is right before 17,000 people walk in. Bugs are getting stuck in the dust on the mini blinds, the front door is inexplicably filthy, whatthefuckisthatonthefloor?...I'm just gonna say it, my house cleaning skills clearly suck ass. Not like anyone really saw the homemaking horrors given this nugget of nightmare was in the backyard, towering over every rooftop in the neighborhood...

People that is a 35 foot tall Dora the Explorer moon bounce. If ever there was a sign of the coming apocalypse, surely this would be it. Sweet Christ on a cracker that is WRONG.
 

But oh man, the girl's head very nearly exploded and she only begrudgingly got out of the thing to break the Dora pinata...

(which we filled wrong not realizing there were two sections. So when the girls pulled the strings and opened the bottom nothing came out because the candy was all crammed in her head. When we realized what happened I may or may not have turned to the group of mothers next to me and said "Don't look at Dora, we're going to rip her head off". ) (You should totally come to our next party! I can traumatize your children too!)

...and for some cake. It was instant love between them and we'll be talking about Bouncy Dora for many, many, many, many months to come.

And there will be more pictures coming, just as soon as I can get home to the camera that is sitting on the table that was supposed to remind me to pick up and bring with me, which I didn't because I didn't have nearly the quantity of coffee needed to remember anything above my normal morning routine. Hey, Dexter started at 11:00p, I had to watch it.  

In the meantime, I have to ask all of you wise people - how do you handle gifts? Emma rips into them without really seeing or acknowledging them and I swear to god it's almost like watching static curtain her eyes. I know its partially her age and we've had the talk that when someone goes out of there way to give you a gift, you don't act like an ass, but it hasn't really sunk in. She doesn't care about what she gets, she doesn't get excited past the first gift and getting her to say thank you is a chore (where in normal day-to-day activities she says please and thank you ALWAYS). It's almost as if she gets overwhelmed with all the shit being presented to her and she just...turns off, except the perception it gives is one of diva child and spoiled and I hate it.  I'm unsure what to do? It's so out of character for her that it leaves me a little stunned. Should I limit the amount she opens? How do I enforce manners when it comes to accepting gifts? All advice would be appreciated for we are frustrated and unsure what to do?

For posterity I'd like to mention that on the suck-o-meter of life, this year has ranked astronomically high. Between the car transmission that went out, the pipe that burst under our house, the air conditioning going out....twice!, the pay cuts, the illness, the illness, the illness. I am walking on egg shells waiting for something to explode or possibly burst spontaneously into flames.  Suck.

And....gah. Those pictures of Katherine Heigl and her sweet little girl has sent me into a fit of woe and teary eyes. I want. Again. Even though its illogical and ....ILLOGICAL, that draw to an unknown little girl is still there. And I think SPECIAL NEEDS!  the wait is shorter, we have good insurance! We're kick ass parents, we could do it! And then I think of how old we would be when our figurative little one is 18 and that makes me more depressed.

Everytime I think I've come to a place of peace about this, something happens and I get all emotional and twisted again.

It doesn't ever really go away does it?

Long ago I came to the conclusion that in life I will probably always be deemed the mean girl. Well, ok, maybe not MEAN but certainly not of the hive. Generally I'm a hermit with little to know tolerance of the public at large. I loath bullshitters, want to slap the game players and generally have no patience to play those stupid, frivolous grown-up games adults in society deem to be relevant. Mainly because I don't think they are relevant.  You know, 'cause they're not. Maybe the term is "realist" or maybe it is "bitch", whatever, it is who I am and I'm pretty cozy with it. I own it. I may ever strive to be Hunter Thompson's gonzo 'fuck you' at some point.

Then that motherhood thing happened and with it all the damn inner questioning...

You know, I love my daughter with every molecule in my body. I once heard that motherhood was like scrapping off your skin to form a little being and your left shaking and shivering, raw in the corner as they walk ahead of you, finding their path. I like that analogy, it's freakishly accurate. And I struggle every day, every single day, to find a balance. Not so much between work and home, that settles into a nice flow with occasional waves. No, I mean exposure. How much to protect them from and what lessons, and at what age, are to be taught. Oh, and the hope that you don't fuck them up for a lifetime. My philosophy since even before she came into our lives, was that we would raise her in the big picture. That the goal was to nurture a stable, unique, centered woman. Child yes, of course, but that's fleeting and short lived. Big picture. But as my bonds with this child who may not be of my DNA, but is so twisted and ingrained into every fiber of my being grew, the instinct to protect and shelter her fiercly grew because the world, it is sucky in so many ways. So the struggle, the wrestling of ideology and instinct and intuition, are at times a cage match. The point being I waffle between my general 'piss off' attitude and the dance of being a 'mommy'.

For example....I refused to invite the whole of Emma's class to her and K's birthday party. And I'm still holding firm to this one. When I told my neighbor, she was appalled, gasped aloud, said it was a school rule that if you invited some, you had to invite all. And I snorted and laughed heartily because SERIOUSLY? The PRESCHOOL is going to tell me who I can and cannot invite to my daughter's birthday party, which is not on school grounds or being held during school hours and which they are not sponsoring? Oh no, no, no.

Now it's not the concept I have an issue with, I get that the possibility of feelings being impacted by the ones who aren't invited. Really, I get that. But.....what of it? I mean at what point does this all or nothing concept go by the wayside anyway? Another 2 years, maybe? There will be a time, certainly, in the not so distant future where selection of friends and not friends, is not in the parental discretionary cards. It's the weird concept that at this age, they're all buddy and friends and certainly no opinions have been formed on personalities and who is liked or disliked based on well, the same shit all friendships are based on, compatibility, and that's RIDICULOUS! I went down the class list asking after each name "is she/he your friend" and there were definitely loud and boisterous 'NO's next to several.

To be fair I thought of ...what if Emma weren't invited to someone's birthday party and her feelings were hurt?  Well, it would suck and we would have to deal with those feelings and talk through it. I mean that is life, right? There will always be someone who doesn't invite you to the party. Sooner or later, every parent has to deal with it and we need to give our children the tools to cope with disappointment. And if not now, when? Because it WILL happen. I don't ever want my daughter to be hurt, but wrapping her in bubble wrap is also not going to help her.

Honestly, I equate it to the 'every kid gets a trophy' syndrome. Equalizing all kids because they're 3 or 4 or 5, whether they get along or not, whether they perform or not, whether they're friends out not, is wrong. It teaches nothing. When I watch the class from a distance, spying to watch Emma play, it's clear there are already cliques - right or wrong. It's clear there are bullies and criers and the trouble makers and the drama queens, they're all there in miniature form. Those feelings that the different cliques hold are there too. Yeah it sucks we're not all love-peace-and-rainbows, but we're not. Even at 4 opinions have been formed and I respect Emma doesn't like or want to be friends with all the kids in her class. 

So I will deliver the invitations to those who we want to come, discreetly because I'm not a monster, and the school - and neighbor (this will be the LAST joint party godasmywitness - oh the stories!) can suck it.

Not of the hive my friends. Big picture. Piss off school.

Let it be known that my neighbor's child is officially the most annoying and sheltered child in the existence of children and it's entirely my neighbors fault! She is parenting a wussy child.

Allow me to regail you in the tale of bullshit that was Saturday morning.... 

Both Emma and K were in ballet together and there was much cuteness. But Ems hates tap, like with a fury of a thousand pissed off hornets who have been smacked in the ass. I don't know why, maybe it's the stiff shoes, maybe its the noise, whatever, the kid doesn't like it so I pulled her out. No one wants to deal with a whining, complaining, 'noooooooooooooo' kid every saturday morning. So, dis-enrolled she is. 

Neighbor friend texts me and says K doesn't want to do it without Ems, let's do gymnastics. Groovy.

Now I should preface this with SHE chose this particular gymnastics location. And it should be noted this location is NO WHERE NEAR OUR HOUSES, where it happens, there are THREE gymnastics/tumbling places. No, this one requires a drive, on streets with traffic and lights and travel time.

So we all get up at what seems like the asscrack of dawn, given it's a Saturday, to schlep the wee one to gymnastics. We walk in and, SWEET JESUS this place has trophies and banners and a SHIT LOAD of awards EVERYWHERE.  This is not a tumbling/kids running amuck place. This is a training facility! 

When I mentioned it to my neighbor she said "yeah it's supposed to be the best"....okey dokey!

We meet the guy coach who seems nice if not a bit freakish what with the limberness, and we meet his sister who will be the girls' coach and right away - like her! She's stern but giving and clearly not acoddler so WOOT! and immediately Emma responds well to her.

[as a sidebar -  toddler buns in a leotard hanging from various bars and rings- awesomeness!]

They begin with their stretching exercises and K just sits there, neighbor and I laugh. Another fifteen minutes goes by and they continue to move into different poses that I'm sure would leave me popping muscle relaxants, K still hasn't moved. The female coach goes to her and lifts her arms to begin the pose, K SCREAMS - not the afraid, I'm a little concerned about this scream, but the GET THE FUCK OFF ME SCREAM and slams them back down to her sides.  The coach positions her legs, same thing, snapped back.

The group, sans K, finallyget up and go to some really low parallel bars and the coach positions Emma on the bar so it's at her hips and asks Emma to hold the pose. K won't move from the stretching area despite several calls to her to come join the group.

A little girl is messing around on another bar and I hear to coach say "I can't help you get better if you don't try, you're on my time now, stop messing around" and I fall deeply, deeply in love with her.

The coach moves to the next station which is to balance on what looks like a PVCpipe approximately 2 inches off the ground. Emma and the other girls hop on, fall off, hope on, fall off. K now has her arms crossed and has the pissy, pouty face on.

I? Am starting to get really fucking annoyed because the coach keeps leaving the group to go and try to engage the Pouty One, who refuses to moveand is masterfully exhibiting the "stiff as a board" maneuver. I keep thinking to myself OH NO SHE DIDN'T, if Emma even TRIED to pull that shit with me or any other human of the face of the planet I would have gone in there and removed her immediately, for we would need to chat! Mama don't play those manipulation games.

The coach directs Emma and the other girls to go over and hang from some parallel bars. They do, kinda like bats, the coach goes back over to K....

and we can hear this conversation through the glass.....

....'K do you want to go swing with Emma? If I let you go over do you promise you'll swing?'

Now at this point, my neighbor's head explodes and she loses her shit, and I mean LOSES IT!!!

'Did you hear that? That was completely inappropriate, if K doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to do it! This should be fun for her!'

The fact that her kid had interrupted the entire class from the first second - didn't even enter her mind. I swear, I almost bashed my head into the viewing window because THAN WHY DID YOU PICK THIS PLACE INSTEAD OF THE 'JUST FUN FREE-FOR-ALL' PLACES ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE BY ....YOU KNOW.....OUR HOUSES???

Instead, I said....'Oh I don't know, I think it could be a good thing to have them pushed a bit, get them to explore outside their comfort zone.'

Wrong, wrong, wrong thing to say in hindsight because LORDY did she become unglued. "Unacceptable" and "Ridiculous" and "My child is a delicate flower who should be catered to or bare minimum put on a fluffy pillow where she's able to rule her kingdom" came out of her mouth, or something close to that.

K did finally begin to participate but with great caution and great coaxing. Even jumping on the trampoline was a bit of an ordeal because she wouldn't do it without the coach holding both her hands. Kid is almost 4 and she won't bounce by herself!

If K fell in the 10 foot deep mass of foam blocks placed under the equipment because you know? Gymnastics also requires learning to FALL, my neighbor gasped audibly and inched towards the door repeating 'don't cry, don't cry" ready to rush in and swoop her to safety.

After the class was over Emma came shooting out the door with the other girls all out of breath and jumping up and down saying she wanted to do this again and could we come again next week? You betcha kiddo! And we signed her up, fully expecting my neighbor would back out given the horrors her child was subjected to by the mean old coach! But no, she signed her up for the remaining session, 4 more classes. That we'll have to do together. Oh yay.

I can't help but think what she thought gymnastics was? I'm guessing soccer is definitely out.

Last night while my wee one was playing with her Nick and Nora Birthday Cake, singing Happy Birthday to every living creature in a 20 block radius (seriously! OMG THAT SONG, PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!) her daddy asked for another slice and she said 'You can't have another piece daddy, you'll get fat!' and I died People. My reaction would have been no different than if she had said 'What the Fuck Old Man?!".

She's 3! Where did 'FAT' come from? I have been freakishly careful about cultivating a healthy girl (or as healthy as possible given our oversaturated, oversexualized culture) and no, no, no! There have been no fashion fascist magazines, I threw away my scales, I promote healthy eating, I've read every book on the market on raising confident, centered daughters and, holy crap! Really? 3?

Then later that night while I was putting her to bed she was closely inspecting marker that was all over her hands from school and said...."What the Hell is Up With That?"

And that was Mark People, I know you're thinking 'Well sure, listen to you, of course. Frankly I'm surprised she didn't say assbag'. I understand, but NOT ME!! Hahahahahaaaaaaa! 

Soooooo, we had the 'grown-up' word talk and immediately after she apologized. But it didn't end there because why would it? As she walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth she grumbled 'You're a drag mommy'.

I'm a drag! After 3 years I've gone from super cool to drag!

What's next? Knocking up the corner convenience store? Sneaking out to party with her preschool posse? Raves at the Little Gym? Belly tattoos?

You know that threat that your parents would wield like a weapon when you were young, the 'wait until you have your own children'. I am in trouble People. The girl's got me. I'm screwed.