Mommy Tales

Archive for the ‘family life - the usual cruelties’ Category

In God we trust. But does this necessarily include the Church we’re part of?
This is the right season of the year for a Christian (like me) to reconsider religious decisions. (Well, it actually HAS BEEN when I started to write this entry, but that was ages ago, BEFORE weeks full of illness and injuries and did I already mention, illness and injured baby-kids? So, now it may be a little late for Christmas thoughts but I will finally publish this post nevertheless!)

Raised in a formal catholic parents’ house I was christened under the Catholic church and, at the age of 9 (when one of course already knows everything about life and therefor is able to make rational decisions as far as faith is concerned) I went to my first holy Communion, wearing one of those nice white dresses and propped up like a little bride. Well, it was a great festivity and I got a lot of presents. Also, I managed to eat approx. 5 pieces of cream gateau. And lots of yummy stuff I usually couldn’t lay my fingers on. But that deep connection with God – honestly that isn’t a thing I can remember right now.

This belly contains a f* lot of cream gateau!

Read the rest of this entry »

So, Johanna’s got the stomach flu. That’s a really funny coincidence because just tomorrow at 8:00 am we were planning to hitchhike a train to get us to our health resort at the sea where we would have some treatments during the next 3 weeks.

2010 so far seems not to be in favour of my family anyway. I’ll give you a short but hurting review that may also explain why I didn’t blog that much things or rather any things at all during the last weeks. Don’t get me wrong. I still have no time to write blogs now. But as writing somehow seems to be kind of therapeutic to me I decided to do rather that than go around with a big fly swat (or worse things), slapping every single person passing. Something to calm down, that’s exactly what I need now, I assure you.

Actually, 2010 seems to be a real bitch. Like B*I*T*C*H*! I must admit it hadn’t that much chance to start off on the right foot. There was that really nasty flu back in 2009 that came on time to save us from celebrating Christmas. Holy Night was rather feverish for our 2yo and that lasted for over a week. Lucky we were to skip the oncoming pneumonia with a large dose of antibiotics. But of course our little daughter wouldn’t be herself if she couldn’t find a way to pass along that nice little flu to other family members and so I myself greeted 2010 on New Years Eve with a casual snore while lying in bed. I would call 2010 a really bad timer. It could’ve come earlier or later (MUCH later) so we could’ve appreciated it more. As it went I think 2010 is personally insulted and has the goal to badger our little family now. Or could you find some other reasons why, after the first night without fever, Emily should burn both her lower legs with boiling water in a stupid and tragic and somehow so quick-that-you-could-not-really-watch accident caused by some hasty and unexpected movements?

Since Jan 3rd life is not as it has been before. All we were doing is driving to the doctor’s, praying that the little cute legs my heal without any inflammation and trying to keep Emily occupied without her hurting the wounded legs. Nice try. I bet it’s easier to *whatever impossible thing you can imagine*. Kindergarten was and still is a no-go, of course. I never would have thought that it takes from Jan 3rd to today for these wounds to close with a new layer of skin. And still, the healing process is not finished. We have to be very cautious so the thin and raw new skin will not be hurt before it had the chance to thicken. And that will probably take another couple of weeks.

Anyway, to add some spice to that rather stressing time I also had my last final exam in the beginning of Feb and yeah, there was not that much free time to study stuff. How I did pass that one I’m still not sure. Meanwhile there had some remodelling been necessary so that our household was (and is) rather restricted. Stuff is not where it belongs to, there’s well, the second toilet missing etc etc. AND our community decided to put the one and only street under construction that leads from our house into the village. So I had to drive everyday twice to bring my 7yo to school (she usually walks on her own, but the redirection route is too far a way).

During that whole time there always was and has been one little light at the end of the tunnel: the treatment at the health resort. After weeks without sports and many stressing situations I’m really looking forward to have a little free time. To read a book. To skip preparing meals and cleaning and driving to school and playing with my 2yo. Because that’s what they do for you. Plus the treatments. I need it. And 2010 is not sure if it should bring it on.

Last week, Emily suddenly got the runs. Uh. But as yesterday she ate again after a couple of days where she didn’t take much more than water, I was hopeful that we would actually make that trip. Me is stupid little woman. Have you ever seen someone barfing from the top part of a bunk bed? It’s really gross. Really, really gross. It seems to be a natural instinct to lean over the rail when s.o. is sick. That’s ok when there’s a bowl parked right next to you AND when there are not 2mtrs for the vomit to splatter down until it hits the carpet. And it hits the carpet hard. I hardly managed to reach the 2yo sleeping in the lower bed without crossing the various puddles. EVERYTHING has been hit. I’m running the washer for 3 times but there’s barely a possibility to get rid of the smell that has sunk deep into the carpet. Of course my husband spent an hour to clean it off tonight but it’s still ugly. I’m not sure what to do but in the moment we’re one room short. And we already have just one bedroom for 2 kids. The rest of the night (if you can call a couple of hours of fitful sleep so) has been not too bad. Johanna hasn’t been sick for more than 5 times and will probably be well again tomorrow (if she won’t get the runs, of course).

BUT that little monster of 2yo Emily couldn’t stand that much attention being focused on her sister so she started to scream at 6:00am for various things. Every single sentence crossing her yelling little mouth starting with the words “I want…” constantly increasing in volume and intensity. Was too tired to look for the tape, but I really wanted to shut her mouth… But that ringing ears you’ll have when someone is shrieking into them with the intensity of an starting airplane won’t help you to orient yourself, so there was absolutely no way for me to find a bottle of chloroform neither.

So I had enough opportunity (as I am absolutely awake now for several hours) to mourn. I’m grieving for that journey that should help me to find some balance within my life again. That should give me a break from my daily routine. That should give me some time for myself to make sports, read a book or just hang around. Well, I’m grieving in advance, of course. There still is the chance for us to make it to the train tomorrow. That’s one possibility. My nice and cute kids an me catching the train at 8:00 in the morning. Riding it all day long until we reach our destination in the evening. Me desperately clutching one of those little plastic bags usually used to clean up dog poop to have something handy to catch some vomit should it occur during the ride. The second possibility is me clutching desperately one of our plastic bowls around 8:00 in the morning. Reflecting about how Hiob could stand all the testing by god and in what I should belief to give me some strength (God, the future, fate, Murphy’s law or the organized distinction of families as cosmic plan).

Tomorrow will bring it on. Good side or scratched side. Flip your coin, Two-Face.

P.S. The “I want”-hitlist of this morning:

I want milk

I want to read books

I want hot chocolate

I want to watch Winnie Pooh on TV

I want to eat something

Guess she’s really interested in food and media, isn’t she?

‘So, you’re not working?’
‘Asshole’, I’d of course never say out loud. I may or may not think it though. Maybe it’d rather be ‘Motherfucker’, I’m not sure.

Apparently, the (absolutely superficial and non-reflective) person demanding such an incredible thing probably is not very acquainted with SAHMs, one of those rampant made-up terms, that describes a Stay-At-Home-Mom or, as our aforesaid person would say, a Not-Working-Mom. Ha!

Never ever could I think of such a labor condition out there in the big world of capitalism. Oh no, don’t get me wrong. Though there may be some points to criticize in a capitalistic world, that’s not my point for THIS post.

Come on and stretch your imagination a bit (yes, I know, it’s a hard task…) and follow my thoughts to this hypothetical situation:

You’re applying for a job, let’s say in the field of care (for persons). This job is supposed to fulfill your life. You wish to find new energy, a lot of fun, you’re absolutely convinced that you’ll love it AND did I already mention, it is to fulfill your life. It’s a rather stressing job, but you could manage it. If you push yourself a bit. A bit more, wimp! Well, you’re discussing further terms of this employment and discover this:

-working time: 7days a week (wait, there ARE just 7 days in EVERY week, right?), 24hours a day (I hope your maths skills would help you to evaluate your weekly free time at this point)
-vacation/holiday/break/breather: sorry, old chap, sold out here. Nothing to get. Finished. Take a number and put your little ass in the row. Oh, no row there?
-salary: none (wait, there are approx. 150,– Euros per month and person you care for, but these are not nearly enough to pay your travel + entertainment expenses)
-approval (by society, friends, state, other people): hmm, difficult. Not THAT much. A little bit. Maybe. Depends.

Sounds great? Well, welcome to my world. I’m working day and night (and don’t believe the nights are off duty) AND I’m even working while using the bathroom. Hey, I said USING not cleaning. But that would be also true. There are never days off and when my never-ending whining and begging helped me to convince the grandparents to have the kids for a weekend they WILL BE ABSOLUTELY ICKY for at least a week after their returning. Never in my life before (and I had some jobs I can compare with) did I work so hard and gain so little approval.

Why is working just working for money? There are million of people working for low money or doing stuff voluntary. Would it ever occur to above mentioned person to pose such a question to them? I don’t think so.

So, dear stranger, friend or person sitting next to me in the bus. Please try and think a little bit before you’re posing questions that will the average SAHM get mad.

You may, on the other hand, truly believe that a mother is absolutely to blame herself about her position. Listen, dumbass (I’m so sorry for my repetitions, but as English is NOT my mother tongue it’s rather difficult to find a variety of nasty expressions, well I meant something like $*##’&%* nevertheless.), I’m not whining about the work I have to do because I wanted to have children (well, actually, I AM whining, but let’s just pretend I wasn’t). I’m complaining about too little encouragement, be it state, be it mundane. Yes, these are my children. But I cannot let them grow up outside society. They are a part of it the moment they’re born. So my work is not just a private amusement. I’m also working for preservation, alteration and development of the human society. I’m pretty much convinced that a child that once grown-up maybe will wipe your ass (job-related, I mean) when you’re bedridden and old should be of your interest already today. Also, the kid I should care for alone because it’s MY kid could someday be responsible for another banking crisis. Or (that’s the thought I’m more in love with) prevent one.

So. Whenever you’re itching to place this absolutely non-acceptable sentence I used to entitle this post, stop, think, take a deep breath and say: ‘You for sure must have a load of work to do, managing your daily routine.’ I will love you when you’re then saying something nice about my kids although they’re maybe picking their noses or doing stuff like that.