Battle Cry of a Liger Mom

No, this isn’t a post about Napoleon Dynamite’s favorite animal. Nor does it involve a lion. I am talking about the “Lazy Tiger Mom.” That is the simplest way to sum up my parenting style. I have noble ambitions, and strive for perfection, but oftentimes my sloth takes precedence.

While I was pregnant, Geoff really wanted a girl.  I tell you, he never met a little girl he didn’t think was sweet & adorable.  I really wanted a boy.  At 30, I still have “mother issues” and dreaded the teenage girl syndrome.  But thankfully, I was over-ruled and Maia entered our lives as calm as can be.  I don’t think a boy would have meshed well with my laissez-faire despotism. 

Admittedly, I have high hopes:  I want to rear the next Marie Curie.  Additionally, she must be well read and a musical virtuoso.  As such, I feel compelled to be the driving force in this little fantasy of mine.  Bring on Maia’s mommy issues.  

Reading

Reading fosters the imagination and opens doors to worlds I cannot bring to Maia. It is very important to me that she learn to read at a young age, and love to read.

This was the easiest goal to tackle, as I don’t even have to get off the couch. Maia and I read a lot together.  Books don’t create mess (until you amass over 200) and requires little physical effort from me (except for re-shelving).  I also appreciate that they introduce all kinds of subjects.

We started with the Your Baby Can Read system, but that wasn’t right for us. Sight words are great, but phonics rule my literary world. With that in mind I hit up Hooked On Phonics when all sets were 70% and bought each set. Leap Frog also has a great DVD set that help kids learn letter sounds.

Every day Maia and I would try to tackle at least one lesson in the workbook. Once Geoff showed an interest in her workbook progress, she really started speeding through the lessons.  In fact, I really appreciate Geoff stepping up to the plate there. Because both she and I were getting frustrated and lesson progress slowed. Unlike the typical Tiger Mom, I didn’t think it was worth my while to fight with her and force learning to read on her.  A while back I lamented to a friend that Maia had lost her eagerness to please attitude. I guess I was wrong and that she still has some left over for Geoff. Maybe being with her the most, I burned through my opportunities.

Now we are moving onto the First Grade Set.  She may not be a full fledged “reader,” but I am happy with our progress.   

Next blogging session, I'll tackle just how I intend to make a Curie of her yet...

Next to Godliness...

Sometimes creativity falls from the sky... and sometimes it is spawned from an utter desperation to not clean, work, or do otherwise constructive things. So, as I sit here knowing full well that the house is not going to clean itself, I ponder.  How does one become a Stepford Wife? Never known for my Type A personality, I can't fathom how one prioritizes cleanliness over playing with the kids, or even Facebook. 

Behold the Mess!!!

Maia's Room

Living Room

Where the magic happens! Where the heck is Mary Poppins?

Clean laundry waiting to be folded.

I can just imagine Geoff kneeling beside our messy bed. Hands folded, pleading with the powers that be to Disney Imagineer me into a perfectly coiffed Susie Homemaker. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the wife my clothes doth iron."
It ain't gonna happen my OCD Sweetness. For stooping to collect all the little ponies, stuffed animals, and various other crap, KILLS MY EFFING BACK! At which point, little bells go off in Maia's head and she knows opportunities are ripe to be had. "Here Mama, take your medicine..." Three hours later, "What the fuck Maia (Yes, she got the phrase from me.)?  How did you get a Dora sticker on the ceiling?"
Now you are saying to yourself, why not have Maia clean up her own crap?  We do, but rarely find that either one of us has the patience to sit through her dawdling. Any threat to take away toys that aren't cleaned up in X amount of time is met with a resounding, "Okay!" Trash them? She stops dawdling to help throw said toys away.  So I beg of you all, "Please do not pity my child as we attempt to teach Maia to be thankful for what she has." I am reminded of a quote by Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach, "Parents forgive their children least readily for the faults they themselves instilled in them."
But this is not a post about my inept parenting, rather an obnoxious rant about how I fail to live up to my own expectation of what my husband's (and the outside world's) expectations are of me. Got that? But for now I must depart, failing to have tag the clothes for the consignment sale, sort the Goodwill pile, put away the dishes, fold the laundry, etc to infinity. It is time to pick up Little one. In my 3 hours to myself, I ranted, played Scrabble online, Hangman online, caught a quick phone call with a cool chica, and got photographic evidence of my sloth. Score!!!!

PS: For those of you concerned over my WTF habit around the 4 year old: I did switch for a short time to "Jesus Christ Maia!" But trust me, it is better this way...

Lupine Fever

Despite Dr. House's immortal words, "It's never lupus;" sometimes it is. (Well, I am told those are his immortal words, I have never seen an episode. Don't worry people, its on my to-do list.) Although I am content to continue arguing that I don't have lupus, I must concede that there is something wrong and all the signs are screaming lupus.
Lupus, the catch-all auto-immune disease, seems like an easy out. I wanted something cooler, that just required a mere adjustment and life would be back to normal. Not so much. So today, I embrace my diagnosis and set off to chronicle life as a functional cripple with a few obstacles (cerebral palsy, lupus, depression) but a host of wonderful things going for me.

The elephant in the room.

So, last night I learned that elephants are the only animals with four knees and that my husband is the office whipping boy. And of course, since this is my blog, I am going to turn that statement around and make it about me. I could have sworn the answer was either camel or giraffe.

I totally stole this picture from my friend, Samora's facebook page.

Geoff and I went out for trivia night with a couple of his coworkers last night and lost, mainly because I didn't know Steven Spielberg's first film was Firelight and bet the farm on Jaws. But even more revealing than what was happening 46 years ago in the motion picture industry is what is currently happening at the NRC office. I knew Geoff's boss has dick-like tendencies (there goes my job as MSNBC correspondent) and suffers from mood swings that would make Sybil seem even keeled, but what I didn't realize is that when it rains crazy, Geoff is without an umbrella. Granted there is a chica at the office, who due to what I perceive as incompetence, gets reamed out more. As per the office secretary and another resident, Geoff is in his cross hairs for EVERYTHING else.  Oconee is a high maintenance site. It is old and operated with a management philosophy different than what we are used to (is that polite enough?). Geoff often complains about the plant's foibles and about his boss's PMS, but I thought Bossman was more of an equal-opportunity chewer-outter. Not so... there is a third inspector who comes out relatively unscathed. He said there was no good reason that Geoff be targeted over him.  In fact, he jokingly admitted to coming into work late, just to deflect some of the venom off of Geoff.
Okay, now onto how shitty this makes me feel. Geoff busts his ass at work to come home and bust his ass here. I want so badly to be able to say, "Quit, I'll get a job." I am hamstringed. I wish I could come up with a solution to make it all better.  Geoff insists the problem isn't with Bossman, but rather the plant itself.  That may be, but I can't be passive aggressive with a nuclear power plant, so my ire rests with the asshole. As of right now, Geoff has agreed that should things not improve, he will request a transfer at his 3 year evaluation, but we'll see...

Putting on the Ritz...

When the hubby heads to Atlanta for work, Maia and I always take the opportunity to tag along. Any chance to flee South Carolina (and be able to openly admit I am a liberal whack job on someone else's dime). So I did a little bit of bargain hunting and was able to book us a room at the Ritz Carlton for $132/night. Hot Damn!  We are gonna live it up.
On the afternoon of our departure, Geoff is extremely on edge. Anytime we leave town, there is always so much to do and a lot of our to-do list falls on him. I thought I did good, had the house cleaned up and Maia and I packed. BUT... the trash still needed to be taken to the dump (Yes, we lack the modern convenience of trash service), the animals needed to be taken to the kennel (I thought I was doing everyone a favor by boarding the dogs; My bad), and he still had to pack himself and load the car.
Well, I may have gotten the house picked up, but I hadn't cleaned out the refrigerator. Strike numero uno. Then, he had issues at the Vet's office which compounded his frustration. Strike dos. Once he got home, there was the last minute fretting about what mythical thing may be forgotten and or left undone before we head out.
Car loaded, kid buckled, time to hit the road. Not so fast, the Maxima won't start. This is a personal affront to Geoff. The neighborhood children learned some very new words. Shit, even I did. Our flashlight slammed against the floor, never to be seen by the warmth of hands again. Tres, you are out.  Everyone pile into the '86 Chevy sans A/C and head to Enterprise. Oh, wait, did I fail to mention, the pseudo-parade that makes a 1.2 mile trek take over 30 minutes (would have walked, but truck already in traffic).  Geoff couldn't help but note that this was how his favorite movie, Falling Down started.
Instead of accepting Geoff's diagnosis that my starter is gone, I insist on trying my car once more while he is at the rental store, so he can't lord over me with an "I told ya so." It started. Quick, call Geoff, cancel the car, pick up fuming husband, load car while running, and head to Hot-Lanta baby.

The Buckhead Ritz Carlton... looks exactly like expected.  Everyone was gracious and accommodating. The feelings of inadequacy came from us. Maia, on the other hand, was in her element. She was greeted with a tray of stuffed animals to choose from. And everyone addressed her by her chosen name of "Princess Maia." The saxophonist and pianist even played her requests. Our first morning, too afraid of leaving the hotel and getting stranded, Maia and I hit up the 5 Star restaurant for breakfast. After breakfast, we head to the pool where we run into Kevin Bacon leaving the hotel gym. I'm like a school girl waiting for the elevator with Ren McCormick. But of course we are going in opposite directions and knowing Maia would call me out, I choose to not stalk (It is a choice people!). Instead, I rush back to my hotel room and text everyone I know. Once Geoff gets back from work, we go out for dinner. I had decided earlier that if we get to the restaurant and back without issue, Maia and I would venture out the next day. Car starts. Rock on! Get to the tapas bar, have some yummy and over priced bites. On the way back to the hotel, we get stuck at a red light that was broken. Geoff in his road rage decides to run the light and puts the pedal to the medal- Car says, "Screw you!" and dies. Just our luck, run a red light and stall in the intersection. Up to this point, I have (in my humble opinion) handled all of the hiccups in stride. Once we get back to the hotel, I silently get out of the car, desert husband/child and head straight for the hotel bar. Only one margarita in, I accept that it is what it is.
That was until the following morning when Maia wakes up burning up and feeling like crap. I had planned on piling into a cab and hitting the town. Alas... Anything would have been cheaper than staying in the hotel all day. But we stay put, and it was expensive ($62 for room service breakfast, $18 to rent a movie, $4 for a Coke, $20 for lunch and $71 for dinner). But, we survived and had fun. I call around and decide that perhaps it is my car battery which is causing all of the havoc with the computer system. That allays my stress (not so much Geoff's).  Luckily, the trip home is uneventful. Needless to say, money is weighing heavy on my mind.
To sum up our Ritz trip, I chided Maia for passing gas in the hotel elevator and she responded, "But Mommy, Daddy said this is a fartsy hotel..."

I will it so...

Today, one of my dear childhood friends was laid to rest. She leaves behind many heartbroken people, warm memories, and a 2 year old son. Laurie's sudden passing at 29, made me realize how precious our time with our children is AND how we need to protect their time should anything happen to us.
Geoff and I have discussed our "wills" many times over. And I have made my wishes known to my father and close friends, but nothing has been legally drafted. I think this is because we don't necessarily agree on what we want for Maia. This is not fair to Maia or our families.
Geoff's stance is a sensible one. Should we meet our demise, Maia will be raised by family; either his parents or brother. Simple. Understandable.
I, on the other hand, want her to be raised by friends. I fear age, infirmity, I don't want Maia to have to go through the ordeal of death multiple times. And let's face it, there is a great divide between the generations. And although, I believe that Geoff's family would do what was best for Maia. I want her to be understood also(admittedly, I don't understand her at all).
So, for now, my Quicken Will Maker software sits unused. But not for long....