FEAR NOT!

Deanna Verbouwens

Drowning, Abductions, Choking, Oh MY! I keep myself awake at night thinking about all these terrible things that could happen to my children. These are fears that send me running for a bag of Lays along with getting run-over, home-invasions, and fire (I get some sense of security when my FDNY hubby is home, I know he can handle at least one thing besides playing solitaire on the PC). I realize that the chances of these things happening are rare, well maybe not too rare but the odds are probably NOT against me. Illogical perhaps, scary as Jason sure and definitely a little bit crazy. Absof**kinglutley. And here’s how crazy--I have a ritual before bed each night, I set-up booby traps by every door and window, then I check on the kids to make sure they’re breathing, next I take the cell phone into my bedroom and turn off the lights to make sure I can dial 911 in the dark, and last but not least I run several different escape plans through my head before I close my eyes. I know, I know, crazy as drunk doing the Macarena.

You’d think that I would have had homing devices implanted in my kid’s asses or at least wrap them in bubble wrap before they left the house. Hey, now that I think about it - not bad ideas. The homing devices would be magical when they are teenagers because I’d know where they were at all times. I can see it now: I’d have a map in the my closet covered with little red push pins as I tracked their every move and maybe I could rig it so an alarm would sound when they hit the local 7-11 to try and buy beer with a fake ID of some random 52 year old man. Now that would give me peace of mind.

Ahhh a mom can dream, but since that’s not happening, how do I find the balance? I need to make sure my kids are protected from the ills of the world and give them enough freedom so they’re not neurotic messes and afraid of their own shadow by age 15. Do I prohibit them from doing anything that is remotely dangerous or send them out there to break every bone in their body? How do I successfully implement the “Don’t talk to strangers” spiel when I reprimand them when they don’t respond to a stranger in Target who have just asked them their age. Now that one is a 100% walking contradiction. Note to self, stress to the kids it’s only okay to talk to strangers when their with Mom and Dad.

So does anyone have any idea where the happy medium exists between becoming an over-protective neurotic Mom or the cool laid back chick that has it all under control? Maybe the answer is to take a little crazy from one and a little chill pill from the other. Like, I let them walk to their friend’s house when they are 15 but they have to call me when they arrive. Perhaps the perfect combination of instilling the right amount of common sense in my kids so they know to run when they see a white van, ’cause it’s always a white van right? Or a guy walking a dog, or a ball on the train tracks or a too big bite of chicken, or a… Oh shit, time for the chill pill.

Find more from Deanna:  www.theunnaturalmother.com

PARENTING 101 - By Deanna

Texting…It’s Not Just For Teenagers

I love and hate texting for one reason and one reason only: Communication. Texting is fun, it’s quick, and it’s easy. I can fire off a text to make someone laugh faster than Mario Andretti at the Indy. In my youth, I’d go to any length to make someone laugh, I actually spent a full year in therapy trying to undo why I’d randomly moon my friends or drive through a toll-booth topless. With texting SWOOP it’s easy and it doesn’t cost me my dignity. On the other hand, what a frickin' distraction; I decided to make a quick stop in Target to pick up last minute baking items for the three year olds now four year olds birthday party. All I needed was brownie mix, quick and easy run in & run out, 10 minutes top, throw kids in the cart, race to the aisle as if I am on “Supermarket Sweep” and call it a day. The first mistake was not throwing the kids in the cart fell to their big blue puppy dog eyes and plea’s of “I’ll be good, I’ll hold your hand, I promise”. Now the four year old is running rampage in the baking aisle, sweat is pouring down my neck as I dodge brownie mix, my hand is numb because I’m white knuckling my phone (gosh forbid I miss a text), then as I grab the little one by the collar my hand slips and I hit the floor. As I am going down the box of brownies hits my head and my seven year old explodes laughter. While I try to recover I can see the back of the four year old I as he hightails it down the aisle towards the mini marshmallows and guess what? The phone is still in my hand. Now that’s talent.

I blame my bruised ass-bone on texting; I can’t sit for a week but guess what… I can text! Texting has definitely brought my multi-tasking skills to a whole new level – now I have even more balls in the air, balls that I am certainly not catching. Unfortunately, it’s not me who suffers, it’s my poor kids. In my defense, I figure I’m already screwing them up, might as well throw a little more on their plate, I mean they have a mother who works full time, has enough guilt to fill Yankee Stadium, can barely get out the door showered, who screams more than she likes, and now they have to have to deal with a texting addiction? They’ll be in therapy anyway, may as well lay it on as thick as I can, if I had to go to therapy they have to too, except, I’ll probably feel guilty and pay the damn bill. I also found out that besides that fact that you can raise your kids properly and text you also cannot multi-task. Believe me I’ve tried eating, drinking, and showering while texting. It does not work. I also try not to text while driving but sometimes I do. Another horrible example for my kids, it’s bad enough they think it’s okay to pick their teeth in public, and can fart on command, but this is well, really poor parenting.

THE GREAT DEBATE

Deanna; The Unnatural Mother

The debate of Working Mom Vs. Stay at Home Mom has been going on for Centuries. Starting from the Cavewoman; I am sure as shit that Betty resented Wilma, who got to stay home while Betty was out foraging for food and supplies, all because Barney was too busy trying to invent the wheel, or making fire or goofing off at that Buffalo Lodge, Fred meanwhile was climbing up the Rock Quarry ladder, getting ready for the next promotion. Poor Betty, always in Wilma’s shadow.

This is an age old debate that I personally don’t have a clear stance on, as I am a Mom that has done both - at several different stages of my children short lives. I flip-flop on this topic constantly. However, to rip off Oprah, this is what I KNOW FOR SURE, not my neighbor, nor my best friend but WHAT I BELIEVE the realities to be, did I make that clear enough? I’m not going to get attacked by some right wing conservative mom militia now am I? 

Stay at Home Mom

•I had a ton of guilt if I wasn’t turning out the laundry as fast as stealth bomber, whipping up gourmet meals a la Mario Batali and if the house wasn’t sparkling like the Chrysler Building, I’d go into hysterics. Okay, so let’s be honest here, this is what I thought I was doing, however, not sure if I lived up to these expectations but I certainly had guilt about it!

•That my entire existence was to be a Mom and Wife, I 100 and 50% felt exactly like a 50’s housewife sans the crazy-up do. I’d cater to my kids, wipe asses, and make sure there was a cold martini waiting at the door for my weary hubby after a hard day of work. Is this the absolute truth? See last sentence above.

•I felt extremely guilty buying anything other than cleaning supplies or food. Gosh forbid I bought a $7.99 t-shirt at Target, the guilt would consume me; I’d start turning tricks to make-up for the loss of income thus spending more time away from my sons…which in turn created a serious vicious cycle of guilt, STD testing… you know the drill.

•The guilt was even more overwhelming when I went to the gym. I felt that I was dragging them around, and if didn’t spend the time engaging, playing and making sure they were entertained at all times I deemed myself a terrible mommy.

•Totally used the “I can’t take these kids for another minute” tirade way too often.

•Became extremely selfish about “me” time, and in some instances, took the opportunity to roam around Target by myself so I could escape everyone, I didn’t care if I just had to buy tampons – it was a welcome opportunity, and I took it and ran!

•Fashion Don’t For Sure! I had the same get-ups for each day of the week, the only variation was the color. Nothing new came into the rotation and if it did it’d throw the entire universe out of wack; yes the ENTIRE Universe, I am sure you felt the tilt!! I did make sure that I was ironed, showered, and had a dab of make-up on. JEESH...give me some credit.

•Never felt RUSHED… ‘cause I never had to be anywhere, and if I had plans, or had to cart the buggers around to activities, or doctor’s appointments, I had all the time in the world to get there. It doesn’t matter that I was late 90% of the time; the fact of the matter is that I had the time to get there in time.