How the Garbage Man Saved My Marriage...

Yes, that is a very dramatic title, isn't it?  Now, before you get all hot and bothered (mom) worrying about the state of my marriage, here's the truth...I may have overstated the issue a bit.  I'm going to lay it all out for you, though, and I think you'll understand where I'm coming from.

Here is my theory about why people get divorced:  teeny tiny little problems (like who should take the trash to the dump or do the dishes after dinner) turn into bigger problems (like hating each other), then the biggest problems (cheating, etc) turn into D-I-V-O-R-C-E.  Yeah, I know what you're saying.  Many marriages are shams, many wives are bitches and/or nags, many husbands are just douchebags and/or clueless, every rose has it's thorn...blah, blah, blah.  Those aren't the type of marriages I'm talking about.  I'm talking about everyone else.  Your friends, in-laws, boss, whoever.  The type of people who, when they announce they are getting a divorce, cause shocked silence, weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Their announcement causes everyone who hears about it to say "I never saw that coming."  These marriages die a slow death of resentment, silence and fights about trash or dishes but really about so much more.  Let's be honest, when you fight about something with your spouse, is it really about that one issue?  Isn't it really about something else (not feeling valued, being lonely, not being sure that you're on the same team any more)?  I know it is.  Shhhhhh...you don't even have to say it.

The truth is that my marriage is pretty amazing.  My husband is kind, a great dad, funny and not at all a douchebag.  I'd like to think that other people think that I come across as slightly less bitchy in real life than I do in my head.  We tend to talk things over, are on the same page when it comes to raising our kids, and have lots of fun together. 
However, there was a problem in our household...and it stank.

Stop smiling, you asshole.

We live in a rural development, really more of a small town inside of another small town.  It's picturesque, classic New England, dirt roads, cape cod houses but no trash pick up.  The only way to have your trash removed from your house is via one of two methods: pay someone to do it or take it to the dump your own damn self.  (watch the video-this is one of my fondest childhood memories)

So, being the stingy, contrary New Englanders we are, we found out that it would cost $20 per month to have someone take away our trash!  "NO WAY!" we said.  We were not going to pay someone $20 to haul away our old food containers, dirty diapers, etc.  We would take it to the dump ourselves.
Well, after 3 winters and summers of fighting about who was going to take the trash to the dump...what's that?  You want to see what that fight looks like?

Almost there...Pretty accurate.

Me:  Can you please take the trash to the dump?  The shitbird raccoons are trying to get into the bins every night and I'm pretty sure there's a colony of maggots in the bottom of the bin.
Him:  (sigh) Okay.  Why can't you do it during the week?  I have to work all day and then spend Saturday cleaning out the van and taking the trash to the dump now.
Me: (trying not to punch him in the wind pipe) Well, I'm at home with two kids, I do everything else around here, and I'm just asking you to take the trash to the dump.  Please, please, don't make me go there.  I hate it there.  It smells horrible, there are so many flies, and I just HATE THE DUMP.
Him: (looks defeated, clearly can not argue with my airtight rhetoric)  Okay, I'll do it.  Do you think I like going to the dump? 
Thing 1:  Thing two pooped in the bath tub/spilled something/drew on the wall!
Me and him:  Stop tattling!  Thing Two, why did you poop in the bath tub/spill something/draw on the wall?

and scene...

You're too kind! 

Now, imagine that almost exact same fight happen 30 times a year...or, imagine someone not going for a while and the trash piling up and then imagine the passive aggressive rage I would exhibit when the shitbird raccoons did get into the trash and spread it all around the yard....and guess who got to clean it up because I "just stay home."  You guessed it.  The trash was not just a festering maggot colony, it was festering rage and resentment and fights and loads of bacteria.

How can I hate something so adorable with so much passion?  Once you've woken up to this scene a few times, you'll find yourself screaming swears at them from your living room windows, too.

Finally, I had enough.  He got a better job which freed up a little extra money which meant I could finally justify paying someone else $20 per month to come haul away our 2-4 bags of trash and recyclables per week.  And, you know what?  It is amazing.  I can't explain the joy I get in taking the trash bins out to the curb and watching for Ralph I-don't-know-his-last-name to pull up in his red truck with his reflective stuck-on letters on the side to empty out my trash and recyclables and take it where ever he wants to take it.  It is just not our problem any more.  So how did this save our marriage?  It gave us one less stressful thing between us.  We were able to move on, get rid of this issue and not give it room to make a problem for us in the future. Plus, I really, really hate going to the dump. 

Today's lesson:  If you can get rid of a major stressor, do it.  Don't let the raccoons win, and let Jensen tell you what you already know:

...swoon....

Cry It Out Vs. Crying in General-Yeah, I'm going there.

In case you don't know what CIO means (apparently you haven't been a new mom in the past 100 years or so) it means Cry It Out-meaning the Cry It Out Method.  There are some facts that I want to address about babies crying, because there is a wealth of false information about letting babies cry.

According to Baby Center, there are at least 12 reasons why babies cry:

• 1. Hunger
• 2. A dirty diaper
• 3. Needs sleep
• 4. Wants to be held
• 5. Tummy troubles (gas, colic, and more)
• 6. Needs to burp
• 7. Too cold or too hot
• 8. Something small
• 9. Teething
• 10. Wants less stimulation
• 11. Wants more stimulation
• 12. Not feeling well
• What to do if your baby's still crying

At the end of the article, there is one more category, and that says that babies cry sometimes for no reason!  They do!  So do you!  Sometimes babies cry to get excess energy out of their system.  Sometimes they cry to tell you what they need (because, at the beginning, they don't have any other way to tell you-they can't talk yet, after all).

So, let's talk about babies crying, okay?  This is one thing that makes me crazy, and I'm going to rant alllll over you right now.

Do you smell it?  Soak it in, baby!

Let's talk about this bullshit statement "It's not my parenting choice to let my baby Cry It Out."  Do you want to know why this is bullshit?  Because it is, pure and simple.  People who say that have a warped idea of what/why babies cry and what exactly Cry It Out means.  Babies cry.  They fuss, they cry, eventually they start to smile, laugh and talk, but at first they just cry, poop and sleep.  You can choose to never let your baby cry, but you are setting yourself up for a lifetime of misery if you do.  I have heard this statement from multiple first-time parents, and they all make me crazy when I hear it. 

First of all, babies cry sometimes to communicate with you.  Do you know what your baby is saying when it is crying because he/she is hungry?  The baby is saying "Hey, it's been 2.5 seconds since I stopped eating/you sat down/you started to shower/poop/etc. and I'm HUNGRY!"  That is communication.  P.S.  You want them to learn to communicate with you if you ever want them to talk.  I understand if you don't want them to learn to talk, I have a 6 year old and a 3 year old, but it's probably not the best plan for them to get ahead in life.

Does this picture stress you out as much as it does me?  If so, you're a parent!

Babies also cry to burn off energy.  The youngest ones, especially, all have working brains, and ideas about what they want to do.  They are trapped in a body that won't move the way they want it to/they can't figure out how to make it do what they want it too.  They can't talk to you.  They can't get what they want by themselves.  They have energy to burn.  They are frustrated.  They cry.  Or, maybe they are trying to get to sleep or who knows!  If you have fed them, changed their diaper, held them, rocked them, and they are in a safe place, it's okay to let them cry for a while while you take some time to get yourself together.

Not a safe place to leave your baby while you get yourself together.

Trust me, you will need to get yourself together sometimes.  Sometimes that overwhelming feeling of being responsible for a new life, the sound of your baby crying when you don't know what to do to fix it, the knowledge that you have tried everything and the idea that you can't control this  situation is just too much.  You need to take a time out and if the baby has to cry for 5 or 10 minutes, so be it.  Forgive yourself.  You are going to be a much better mother if you let yourself relax, enjoy your baby, and don't constantly hold yourself up to unrealistic expectations.

Finally, there seems to be this idea out there that Cry It Out means letting your baby cry until they pass out or die or forever or something.  That is simply not true.
This is what it actually means:

What exactly is the Ferber method?

In a nutshell, Ferber says you can teach your baby to soothe himself to sleep when he's physically and emotionally ready, usually sometime between 3 and 5 months of age.

He recommends following a warm, loving bedtime routine and then putting your baby in bed awake and leaving him (even if he cries) for gradually longer periods of time. Putting a child to bed awake, says Ferber, is crucial to successfully teaching him to go to sleep on his own.

Parents are instructed to pat and comfort their baby after each predetermined period of time, but not to pick up or feed their baby. This routine is called "progressive waiting."

The suggested waiting time, which Ferber charts in his book, is based on how comfortable you are with the technique, how many days you've been using it, and how many times you've already checked on your child that night.

After a few days to a week of gradually increasing the waiting time, the theory goes, most babies learn to fall asleep on their own, having discovered that crying earns nothing more than a brief check from you.

You can read more here.

That is probably not so much different than you are already doing, and it doesn't seem nearly as controversial as it is made out to be.  We all, as parents, have to work on building our children into independent adults, and that includes being able to fall asleep.  Do you want to know how long I made it the first time I tried to let my daughter cry?  About 30 seconds.  She was fine.  Do you know how long it took her to "learn" to fall asleep on her own when laid down awake?  About a week or so.  We were consistent with routine, kept her physically and intellectually active, and had set bed times.  It was hard work, but to this day, both of my children are excellent sleepers, are able to self-soothe, and happy and well-adjusted children.  They have formed secure attachments to us, they have friends, and are functional kids.  They are independent and have a strong sense of self.



We will all argue and fight for our children, views, etc. but at the end of the day we will all do what is best for our children.  We will all be the best parents we can be.  We will love our kids, make some mistakes, and hope that they forgive us some day.   That's all fine, and hopefully some day we moms can stop fighting each other about who is right and wrong, and forgive ourselves for being who we are.

Learning from the Children

My daughters are tightly coiled balls of ever increasing energy.  My eldest daughter does not just get out of bed in the morning (or stumble, flailing until I find my glasses, swearing at the sun for rising, my dog for getting in my way, the coffee for not already being made, etc.).  No.  She wakes up in the morning, leaps to the end of her bed, jumps from her bed to the floor, and skips...skips!  down stairs.  She skips every where.  She skips all day long.  She skips to the bathroom, she skips to the kitchen to get a yogurt, she skips or runs but hardly ever walks.

My husband and I were discussing this the other day.  We noticed that her first choice is to always skip between tasks. We both watched her skip into the bathroom and as she left the room, we were both smiling and laughing.  Watching her skipping brought us joy!  We both remarked that we wished that our first thought was to always skip-instead of plodding along as it seems some days.

Our youngest does not just wake up, either.  If, by chance, we have to wake her up she doesn't roll over and groggily greet us with a smile.  She lies on her stomach, flapping and clapping and slapping her feet and hands on her mattress until she springs up, grabs onto the bars of her crib, and jumps up and down.  This whole sequence takes about 5 seconds.  She is ready for action as soon as her eyes open.  She is full of joy and thrilled to greet the day.

Both of my daughters are excited to get on with the next thing, but they are also so happy to be in that moment that they make us happy to be a part of that moment.  They have helped us to find joy in mundane moments and, quite often, cause us to stop, take a look around, and be happy for simple moments. 
I'm not going to pretend that I can alter my bad attitude upon waking up.  I don't know if I am willing to work on that part of me when there are so many other facets of me that need work (such as the part of me that follows through with things, the part of me that cleans the bathroom more often, or the part of me that can focus on things for more than 10 minutes).  However, I am willing to take a little more time and be thankful for small moments of joy and peace and be looking for opportunities to recognize those two things.  Hopefully, in the future, my daughters will remember me as a fun mom whose moments of joy outnumbered the moments of grouchy, flailing anger. 

Fear vs. Reflection...How Best to Raise Our Children

There is a debate raging inside my head about how best to raise my children.  The little angel sitting on my right shoulder keeps telling me to raise them to be self-reflective, caring citizens who think about their actions and make choices based on a deep seated set of ethics.  The fat, lazy couch potato devil on my left shoulder says that I should teach them to follow the rules blindly and out of fear of whatever consequences my evil brain may cook up.
On one hand, I really like the idea that my children will make choices according to a set of ethics and a feeling of empowerment.  On the other hand, I want them to just automatically do what I say without questioning.
Don't get me wrong-this does not apply to all issues.  Safety issues are not negotiable.  There is not any ethical middle ground to running into the street.  This applies to questions like should I be honest?  Do I hit back?  Do I share with my friends?  For the most part, Olivia seems to understand that you share with friends because it makes you feel good and makes them feel good and that's one way that you show people that you care about them.  However, she is only four and there is only a certain amount of self-reflection that is possible.
When the situation presents itself, however, I generally try to talk with her about what she thinks she should do in a situation and why, and what may be some alternatives.  The problem with this route, though, is that she now is negotiating with me and is really good at it!  It is a little scary, how logical she can be and how quickly she can put together an argument.
So, now I think that I am going to have to go the route that my mom ended up going which is a combination of reflection first then fear.  She had two tools in her arsenal and they were good ones.
1.  She told us that she had spies all over the neighborhood and they would be watching us.  Therefore, she would always know what was going on.  The scariest thing was, it was true!  One day my sister crossed the road (jay walked) with no one in the road and no one around.  When she walked into the house my mother called from work and told her that she knew that Steph had crossed the street...and not at the light!  We were amazed and terrified by her power!  For years to come, and still to this day, when faced with a choice that could be a bad one I think a. does this seem like the right thing to do? and b. if not, is it worth getting caught and getting in trouble?
2.  She had a remote that would beep when a button was pushed.  It had a small speaker and nothing else on it.  She told us it was a lie detector and would point it at us when she asked us questions.  We believed.

So, when my girls grow up, I hope they feel the same way about me that I feel about my mom.  I hope, when they remember me, they think "She taught me right from wrong, and when all else failed, I sometimes made better choices because I was afraid of the wrath that would come down on me."

A Torturous Day of Mayhem

Yesterday was not a good day for the Smith ladies.  We had a day of fighting, not listening, crying and general chaos.  It was one of those days when, for the few minutes that everything goes well, you hug your children and tell them you love them and then one of them hits the other one and all bets are off.
Nap time came and went, along with a HUGE tantrum from Olivia and both girls took miniscule teeny tiny little naps.  I was at my wits end.  All I could think of was "I need BACKUP!"
Finally, Lincoln was on his way home from work.  Relief was in sight.  He pulled into the driveway and took over the care of the little monsters.  I was preparing dinner, put Maya in her high chair and she grabbed my glass of water from the table and poured it all over herself, the high chair and the floor.  I just lost all ability to pretend that this day wasn't bothering me.  I kept wondering what was wrong with me?  Why couldn't I just control the situation?  What had I been doing so wrong today that my children were completely out of control?
I was on the floor, sputtering about escaping by myself...maybe even to jail...for a few days of silence when Lincoln asked me, incredulously, "What is wrong with you?"  I gave him a dirty look and said "We've had a...very...very...difficult day."
We had dinner, went through the evening after dinner, and you know what?  It wasn't just me!  Lincoln had just as hard a time as I had been having all day.  My only thought was "Thank GOD!"  When we had a minute, I asked him, "Now, do you see what I was talking about earlier?"  And he said very quietly, "Yes."
I was so relieved that I was ready to cry.  I felt so bad that he was having a hard time with them, too, but at least I wasn't alone in experiencing this.
Now, we've all had a good night's sleep and we are all getting along again.  Olivia is listening, has told me that she loves us and Maya is not destroying the house in a single reach.  We made it through and no one even had to go to jail.