Drive Me Crazy

Most of the time I'm a pretty good mother, I think (if I do say so myself). I'm a stay-at-home mom and completely and totally dedicated to motherhood. I'm 100% engaged with my kids (okay, 99%). Just by touching a hand I can tell if one of them has a fever. I know what kind of mood they're in with one glance at their faces, and if something is on their mind, they can't hide it. All this is wonderful and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Except when it all drives me MAAAAAAD. Like now. It's 4 p.m. on a chilly, gray Saturday afternoon and I'm home alone with my two kids. My husband had to go out for a couple of hours for work. I haven't left the house yet today, and I just managed to get dressed an hour ago. Shower? Ha.

THEY. ARE. DRIVING. ME. CRAZY.

I sent them to our gross, unfinished basement to play because I needed them out of my hair for a few minutes. For some reason, they love it down there (probably because it is, in fact, so gross). Five minutes later I heard the dreaded words: "Uh-oh, Mommy's going to be so mad."

Turns out our cat (who has Irritable Bowel Syndrome) pooped in the playhouse. So instead of relaxing and having a little "me" time, there I was scrubbing dried diarrhea out of the rug instead. Calgon!

There's rarely one event that ends up pushing me over the edge. My kids are great kids and rarely do anything that makes me want to get in the car and keep driving. Usually, it's just a slow buildup of tiny frustrating moments. Then one or two more little things happen (today it was my daughter not napping combined with my husband having to work) and suddenly I find myself falling off the cliff.

I've noticed I lose it more often on weekends. During the week, I manage to keep it together better--I think because I have no choice. With my husband at work until evening, I'm the one in charge. But I don't stress it at all during the week--I'm happy doing all the mom things I love.

But then the weekend comes around and for some crazy reason I expect it to be a little relaxing. I expect to get a break from being the one "on" all the time. Except it hardly ever works out that way. My husband is a great dad and spends as much time with the kids as he can. But it's not like I can easily and breezily take a day off from being mom and recharge. The kids whine and pout about me leaving, which makes me feel guilty--which then makes me not enjoy my time away as much. Instead of recharging, I worry and end up rushing to get home.

But tomorrow is a new day. I will go to the gym and sweat this stress out while my husband takes the kids to church. Hopefully the sun will be shining and we can all get outside to enjoy the fresh air and beautiful spring flowers.

If not, at least I have "Mad Men" to look forward to tomorrow night. And the new season of "Game of Thrones." Yes, things are looking up.

Baby, Don't Go

I've touched on this topic before and I'm sure I will again. How could I not?

There is this thing lurking...I try to push it out of my mind before it takes hold but I can't always. And when I do think about it, it's so painful and sad: My kids are growing up. Duh, I know. It sounds lame and cheesy. Please don't laugh at me.

My kids are only six and three (actually she's almost four, gulp) so, sure, I have time before I need to face their loss of innocence, but everyone knows how quickly it goes by. So, yeah, I'm holding on for dear life (don't judge me).

Whenever a sweet old lady says to me at the grocery store, "Enjoy them while they're this age--it goes by so fast!" I want to punch her in the face. Way to rub salt in the wound, Grandma.

Every weekday afternoon I cannot wait for 3:20 p.m. because that's when the bus drops off my Kindergartener. I miss him so much when he's at school. We hold hands and talk about his day as we walk the block back to our house. And every single day I cherish the feel of his soft, warm, still-little (but not for long) hand in mine. Because how many more years of hand-holding can I look forward to? Three? Two? And how much longer will his chatter be about sweet stuff like the cool colored pencils they used in art class or which instruments they played in music? When he sings me bits of the songs they sung that day, his adorable falsetto melts my heart and I have to hold back the tears. 

These moments slay me. And they continually surprise me. Before having kids, you can never imagine stuff like this affecting you. But it does.

Or maybe it's my daughter crying in her bed after I've finished singing the lullabies we always sing and left her room. If she doesn't quickly settle down, I go up there and lie with her in bed for a little while. It's like magic how quickly her tears dry up. And it feels wonderful to have that effect on someone.

But how much longer will my mere presence stop the tears? How long before my very existence makes her want to scream instead (or at least roll her eyes). Oh, my little lady is going to be an expert eye-roller, I can tell already.

All this is why I find myself occasionally wanting a third baby. There, I said it. But even if I wasn't too old to easily and safely go about it, I doubt I'd actually begin pleading my case to my husband for baby #3. I've always wanted two kids. One boy, one girl; two kids, two parents: nice symmetry. But still, the urge is there.

That's because, as I stand by and watch my two babies grow and learn and begin to need me less and less, my heart aches. I miss the feeling of having a tiny helpless person rely on me for everything.

There's this song that comes on Pandora's toddler station sometimes: Frances England's "You and Me." It makes me cry. I love it. Google it and listen. Beautiful. The lyrics go:

You and me, reading books in bed,

Your head on my shoulder,

Your eyes on the pages ahead.

How did you grow so big overnight?

How did you get so smart and bright?

Yesterday you were asleep in my arms,

Today you're growing off the charts.

I'm so proud of you."

What the hell am I going to do with myself when my kids are grown?

Damn, someone needs to get a job. 

"American Idol" Season 11: Is there Potential?

Like millions of other people, I have been watching American Idol for many, many years. And also like millions of others, I've been watching it slowly get worse and worse every season. I do still enjoy it--especially the early episodes with the auditions--but not nearly as much as in the Simon Cowell years. These days, I skip the results shows and fast-forward past the contestants I don't like.

What it comes down to is I MISS SIMON COWELL. When the worst thing a judge ever utters is, "I'm not sure if that was the right song for you," you know things have seriously gotten off-track. I miss how the contestants would begin to shake and stammer when it was Simon's turn to critique them. It made them work harder, I think. Ahhh, the good ol' days. Because these days, Randy is the mean one, which is just pathetic.

This year's final 13 is awful. Bland. Where's the James Durbin or Adam Lambert of the group? Erika Van Pelt--the spunky, saucy D.J. from Rhody--is the closest thing there is to a rocker, and the fact that she's in the running is no thanks to America (she was a judges' pick, not voted in).

I sort of like Phillip Phillips, but that's mainly because, 1.) He seems to be a decent guitarist, 2.) He offers up something a little different from the others, and 3.) He's cute. But he's really not so hot on an individual basis--it's just that compared to the others he seems fresh and unique. 

On Thursday's show, Jimmy Iovine said about Phillips, "We desperately need originality on this show." Meanwhile, when my husband sat down to watch a few minutes of Idol with me a couple of weeks ago Phillips came on and the first thing he said was, "Could he be more Dave Matthews? He's got every D.M. tic down pat." So much for originality.

At least cute little Phillip has the decency to imitate someone talented. You can't say the same about DeAndre Brackensick. He very unfortunately seems to be channeling Milli Vanilli's Rob Pilatus (and, yes, I went to Wikipedia to look up his name). 

Pretty scary, huh? DeAndre looks, dances, and probably maybe even sings like Mr. Vanilli. His falsetto is painful but the little girls love him. I have a feeling he'll be sticking around for a while.

Heejun Han is one of the more interesting contestants but it's not because of his impressive "it" factor (because he has none). His voice is smooth and rich but he's not exactly Idol material. No, he's interesting because he's a total spaz who says amusing, dumb things. Did you see him at the end of Thursday's results show? He was bopping up and down like the Energizer Bunny. Weird dude. And fun to watch.

I like Skylar Laine's energy and her kick-ass country rocker persona is fresh(ish), Jessica Sanchez is gorgeous and has an incredible voice but may end up being boring and predictable (that remains to be seen), and Colton Dixon is indie, which is at least better than straight-down-the-middle mainstream but he's about as vanilla as indie can be.

And that, folks, is how I see it. But I'll still be watching in the hopes that I'm proved wrong and a true original talent is born. You never know...though in this case I'm pretty sure I know.