Re-fried (Mommy) Brains

OK. First of all, as much as I love an old fashioned turntable and laying down a new thrift shop vinyl, this record has really outplayed it’s tune.

Another week gone by and we have all had another round of “the bug.” This has to be the most I’ve been sick in a single season since I was in grade school. And it’s all been aggravated by the problems I’ve been having with my right ear (Ménière’s). Even after recovering with hot showers, Lysol, and disinfectant wipes of every fragrance, I’m a little hesitant to say it’s over.

Rest assured there are no pictures to document the horror. And you’re welcome.

–

In other brighter news, Lincoln is still toying with a few words:

“Nose.” “Up.” “Na-naaaa” (which means “bottle,” “more,” and “gimme-something…no, that…no, no, no, that”, apparently.) Also, my favorite, “Pup-pa” (Pup-Pup or Puppy…not really sure which.)

I am so eager for this kid to start the jabber sessions…to ask me millions of questions and sing me songs he just made up about the most ridiculous things all small kids find to occupy their tiny little hard-as-rock heads. I mean, he has got to be brilliant, yes?

Granted, I am sure I will be praying for Quiet Time not long after, but I’ll address that when the time comes.

The bigger this kid gets, the more I find myself watching myself. I find that I’m asking myself a lot more questions these days.

“Why did I just say that?”

“How else can I get the dogs to listen to me without yelling?”

“Is there a more gentle way to keep this kid’s focus?”

“Or to keep him from pulling the dog’s tail?

“Or to keep him from pushing the Power button on the cable box?”

Crap, I may as well come out now. I’m a yeller. And I love to swear. Capital L-O-V-E. Love. Also love to yell. But I can’t very well go stomping through the house, thrashing my arms around, and swearing like a sailor every time I want to recount a story about something funny that happened at work, or the weird couple I watched making out on the bus, now can I. Can I?

Sadly, no. I have to put in some amount of effort if I don’t want this kid following me around the house, stomping around like a fool, and screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. He watches me. And I’ve seen him do the toddler equivalent of Me. An’ I don’t like it.

So Mommy has to watch her Ps and Qs. And try to remember her new mantra.

“Be gentle.”

~ g-e-n-t-l-e ~

I’ve been working on this…for almost the whole day. When I put my head in that space, being gentle, approaching something with that mindset, I feel like I’m willing myself for a breath. This could be progress as I often forget to breathe (the reason I am horrible at swimming and keeping my face under the shower head to rinse my hair.)

Good grief. This could be work.