Playdate Expectations Vs. Reality.

Play Date

noun
noun: playdate
  1. a date and time set by parents for children to play together.
Actually it can be a little more then that. It can be an opportunity to meet and gather with other women like you who are tackling life as a stay-at-home-mom, or maybe you’re a work from home mom, whatever the case may be we get together joyfully while the kids play and gain the appropriate social skills needed to navigate through life. We vent or sometimes boast about our latest triumphs of motherhood. We chat about our newest must watch television obsessions, or what books we’re trying to read during naptime. Or maybe we sit in silence watching our children interact with like minded individuals while we sip our coffees and revel in the “alone” time.

Sounds like a slice of heaven, right? Well, I’m here to tell you some truths about play dates. I’ve been on three so far that didn’t consist of hanging out with a family member who may or may not have kids. So I’m kind of an expert. Here’s what I’ve experienced…


If you’re like me you’ve probably gone through the logistics of working out naps, and planning out nutritional lunches, before venturing out on your play date. If everything goes according to plan you will have a well rested, happy, toddler who is willing and ready to cooperate. Only things never go according to plan when dealing with the terrible twos so instead you get a screaming child, exhausted because he refused his nap earlier in the day, and literally wants nothing to do with you or that pile of yuck you call food. You might consider staying home at this point but the interaction with another adult who is not screaming for your attention seems nice.

 

Play dates in retrospect seem like bliss. You get out with other moms and get to be you for a brief moment. You get to have normal conversations about anything and everything so long as it doesn’t consist of poop or mickey mouse clubhouse, all while your little bundles of love and energy play and meet new kids. The reality is that it’s kind of a mad house. You have groups of kids who play well and groups of kids who want to rule that jungle gym. You are constantly watching, ducking, and weaving through the bodies of people to see where your child is. Did he fall? Is he crying in the corner? Is that him? No, oh there he is. He’s fine. You don’t get to chat long because your conversations are cut short by having to referee a dual that has somehow erupted in the middle of the play yard. It’s intense.

Let’s say you are able to rattle off a few anecdotes about life and the kids and all that fun stuff you soon realize that a meltdown is on the horizon. A full blown thrashing of oneself against any and everything is about to go down. Quickly you try to devise an escape route. How can I get out of this situation with as little trauma as possible. Only you’ve taken too long. Your brave little play yard hero has turned into a full blown villain and he’s wrecking havoc on everything. The other moms see the terror in your eyes. You try to regroup and confront the mad beast but the fangs are out. You try to pick him up for a quick and deliberate exit but he’s gone limp. It’s like every bone in his body has turned to slush and you look like you’re trying to pick up jello off the floor with chopsticks. Moms are watching now, some with a look of despair for what’s possibly in store for them, and others with a look of astonishment. Like they’ve never had to drag a child away from fun time while his 30 pound body suddenly feels like 600 pounds. You’re sweating and panting and wishing you’d never come out.

But then you get home, finally, and after a very quick change of pace and perhaps a nap for the both of you the fog has lifted and you realize that maybe it wasn’t so bad. You could probably do this again and with a little more preparation it might go even better. I say to you, good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.


Have you ever experienced a play date like this? Share in the comments. And as always don’t forget to wear that smile from ear to ear.

Mornings with me…

Here’s an episode of  mornings with the diabetic mommy.

My day starts out at 6:15 a.m when my daughter wakes me up from the deepest of slumbers by creepily breathing in my face and poking my cheek. She alerts me that her brother is now awake and requesting to go downstairs, he would also like milk and cereal. Okay, awesome. I sluggishly creep into the room. Sort of like a zombie only I don’t want brains, I want coffee, or more sleep. There staring up at me with the sweetest of eyes is my son screaming at me to pick him up. After retrieving him, his blanket, and whatever stuffed animal he begged for in the middle of the night, we make our way down the longest flight of stairs. They aren’t really but when you are carrying down a child that weighs more than a bag of potatoes and is also flailing about, it sure feels that way.

Once downstairs I finally have a second to check my blood sugar, make sure my dexcom is calibrated, if needed I correct…if not I go about my normal routine which is preparing my sons breakfast, taking my medicine for my thyroid and trying not to fall asleep mid walk.

Lately I have been attempting to exercise. It’s a cardio routine that is equivalent to walking a mile only it is in the middle of my living room. The same living room that just 5 minutes ago I set my son down in and now I am looking for him in a tornado of blocks, light sabers, and books. Tubs have been dumped and every toy is now spewed across the floor. My child is a magician obviously. I give him his food and he pretends to eat it but really he is sprinkling it around the room. I can only imagine he is stock piling it for later. In case he gets hungry between meals, I suppose.

As I maneuver around the area I turn on my workout dvd and begin “sweating it out” the extra sugar, the extra weight, the little bit of everything I don’t need hanging around. Then my daughter comes downstairs from getting ready for school. The two of them attempt to work out with me but really they are dancing around making  me laugh and lose concentration. I need to focus, I am in the zone. Before I know it the TV is being turned over to my son. We are now watching Sesame Street and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse until I want to punch myself in the face.

Leaving him for a second I get some water and check my sugar again. I’m dropping now so I suppose it’s time to make myself breakfast. Finally. Oh no, wait, it’s now time for my oldest to head out for school. I say my goodbyes, give her big kisses, and silently wish she didn’t have to leave. Suddenly I remember I have laundry to fold. My dexcom is starting to alarm but I look and it’s still in the 70’s. I’ll be fine. I fold the laundry and then check on my youngest. I sweep the kitchen and oh yeah, my sugar is dropping. Now it’s in the 30’s. Why do I do this to myself. I eat, quickly and without thinking. My son begs for some and I reluctantly share. He’s just too cute to say no to.

It’s now 10 a.m and I am left wondering where the morning has gone.

 

 

 

 

The Insecure Mom.

The other day I found myself questioning, yet again in my motherhood journey, whether I was a good mom or not. Some days I really feel like super mom getting everything done and feeling an overall productiveness wash over me, then there are times I feel like I’m still figuring things out, but in between all those moments what really goes through my mind is what the heck am I doing right now. If you are like me and carry the same kind of worry around your neck then I am here to share my epiphany. I am here to tell you it’s not you…it’s them. Our kids stink. Of course, I am completely joking. Well, sort of. What I mean to say is that you are amazing and these tiny little humans full of so much excitement, energy, and pure destructiveness are beautiful blessings that like to test our limits. We did it to our parents and these kids are now doing it to us.

It is the circle of life in the most perfect of ways.

They run on their own little schedules, they have their own little demands, and sometimes they have no idea what they want. And all of that is fine except when it leaves me feeling like I am doing this whole mom thing wrong.

Here is an example for you.

Lately my two year old has been taking the wheel on what he wants to eat and when. I am used to picky eaters and I am used to having to make different meals for the children in my life. What I am not used to is the refusal to eat. I’ll make a perfectly executed “kid friendly” meal that everyone can enjoy and my son will simply say no. I’ll make him things I know he likes and has eaten in the past and still I get a no. I’ve gotten to the point where I will literally give him just about anything so long as he is eating. Now, I do have my stipulations, I don’t do dessert as substitutes, and I will not buy fast food when I have created a delicious feast for the family. His foods of choice include; peanut butter sandwiches, cheese, peppers, and cereal. He accepts salad and applesauce on specific days…I am never sure when those days are though. He will also take pretzels and chicken. But even the chicken is a hit or miss entree.

Cue feelings of hopelessness as a mom. If I give him cereal for dinner am I doing him a disservice? If I settle and give him a peanut butter sandwich instead of the meal I’ve planned out am I stunting his pallet? These are actual things I think about. Most of my mom friends say that toddlers will not starve themselves, and I get that, but if he is refusing to eat and instead chanting for cookies what am I suppose to do?

You see my dilemma?

I try not to cave when he is crossing his arms and asking for cheese and crackers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but I feel like if I don’t give it to him he will never eat again for the rest of his little life. Slightly dramatic, sure. That doesn’t change the fact that this little guy is making this mom feel like I’ve never done this whole parenting thing before.

My goals for this stubborn little man are to keep trying. Possibly be just as stubborn. And silently rejoice when he actually exclaims that the meal I have slaved over is, “Yum!” Scratch that. Openly rejoice when he likes what I feed him. Right? Right!

The thing is, motherhood, parenting, it’s all a learning process. Whether you are a first timer or this is your fourth baby. It’s a never ending opportunity to grow, explore, and sometimes compromise. What worked with the first, or second, may not work whatsoever with the next one. So if you find yourself feeling insecure about your decisions surrounding your babies just know that if you love them with every fiber of your being, if you are willing to sacrifice, if you are okay with sleepless nights, then you are doing this whole thing right and you are amazing. Advice I will try to carry with me, too.

Don’t forget to smile. The kids love smiles.

 

Please don’t fail me now!

My posts lately have been sort of thoughtful, sort of focused on family life, and motherhood. I hadn’t touched really on how diabetes has been treating me, or rather how I’ve been treating my diabetes. The truth is we aren’t friends and we never will be. I despise this disease and everything that comes along with it. I hate that I am almost thirty and having to think about my own mortality sooner than I feel I should. I am having to sit and think about every single thing I eat, or drink, and how it’s going to affect me. I am having to be my own pancreas which doesn’t sound bad until you realize all that the position entails. Constant finger pokes and blood drawls. Constant site changes and a body that has been beaten and abused by this illness. The constant fear of what could be, or what will be, no matter what I do.

Recently I was faced with the fact that sooner then later I might have to deal with kidney issues. Twice now I have had protein spill into my urine and now my endocrinologist is concerned. Now we have to monitor, now we have to discuss being proactive when, not if, we cross that bridge. And I don’t know about you and how you deal with news like this but it’s gotten to me, it’s depressing, it’s made me feel helpless. I don’t have the time or the energy for all of this crap but I have to find it. Because if I don’t get in control of this situation some how, some way, it’s me that suffers. And my family. That’s one thing I regret more than anything, having my family involved in this vicious disease. They are apart of it whether they want to be or not and that pisses me off more then anything. If I could bear the brunt of it all by myself, I would. If my sickness didn’t make them sad, or worry, or upset. Then I could deal with all of this. But I can’t shield them from it anymore then I can shield myself. And that’s another difficult pill to swallow.

I’m trying to  be positive. We aren’t talking dialysis, we aren’t figuring out medication yet, but we are monitoring and to me that’s just the start. Earlier this year I was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. Treatable, sure. I am currently taking medication for that. But I still felt like, why? Why do I have to deal with this, too? All of this has caused me to take a step back and reevaluate my health and what I need to do to improve it the best I can. I need to push back these complications for as long as possible because I am not going out like that. I am a fighter. I am a beast. I am a mom, and I have better things to be doing.

Recently I’ve started working out again. Being selective with food choices. And overall continuing to show this disease that I am in charge. Nothing is going to take me down unless I let it and that is not the kind of person I am. I don’t back down when I am put in a corner. Diabetes might be tough, but I’m tougher.

So to all you champions out there. Wear that smile and wear it proudly.