In case anyone is wondering, grounding your kid doesn’t stop him from growing up and living his own life.
Being the mom of a Marine was NOT on my bucket list, but kids grow up and start thinking for themselves. Steps have been taken and in the not so distant future it looks like life will be changing. Turns out the world does NOT revolve around me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for him. I’ve always been one to encourage my kid’s hopes and dreams, but I didn’t really mean it, I was just being supportive because people were watching…all I really care about is my own happiness, and letting go is not making me happy! I always knew I’d have to let go, I just didn’t realize it would happen so fast. I still see him as a three-year old puffy face toddler, reaching up to me to be held. But in reality he’s six-foot two and he doesn’t fit in the toddler sling anymore. Well, I don’t know for sure that he doesn’t fit. He just refuses to get in there. As my Aunt pointed out, it’s our own fault for always telling them they can be anything they want to be.
I’m proud of myself though, for being so supportive. I’ve really kept it together. I mean…I may have accidentally jumped onto the hood of his moving vehicle when he was leaving to start this process. But in my defense, I only jumped on his car because I couldn’t find a knife to slash his tires. Also, the necessary documents were somehow lost, luckily my husband found them…and landed himself number one on my shit list. But other than that I’ve been…oh wait. It is possible that I checked with local law enforcement to see how much trouble I’d be in, legally speaking, if I happen to accidentally break my son’s knees. Felony battery, I believe it’s called. I’m currently weighing the pros and cons.
All joking aside, hug your kids people. Sometimes parenthood seems to drag on and on, but in the end it really does go by too fast. We only get them for a very short time, to shape and guide, to instill moral values and foster independence, to love and nurture and hug to pieces. Inevitably, one of those hugs will be a last hug, or a more long-term goodbye kind of hug, and you’ll be left standing there watching your baby, who everyone else sees as a man now, walking away, going off to become the hero you always knew he would be.
So we took our annual trip to Kalahari Resorts and Indoor Water Park, which is always a blast. As a mother it’s my “job” to watch my kids and make sure they don’t fall into a pool, or get taken by the gypsies. I don’t know who these gypsies are but I know they’re out there waiting to steal you. At least that’s what Mom used to tell me. Anyway, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to dedicate any time to watching my kids when there are more urgent situations at stake. Like the swim up Jacuzzi bar.
Also, every few steps I had to bend over to make sure my vagina wasn’t falling out of my bathing suit. I kept feeling a draft, and I got paranoid that my girl goodies were going to make a surprise appearance. Then I kept asking my husband how my ass looked, because gravity is a bitch. The second I stopped doing the insanity workout, my tush resumed it’s natural position three inches lower than I want it. Then my husband fell asleep in the lounge chair so I had to ask the three year old for booty reassurance. I asked the kid ONE time how my butt looked and he stared at me like I was absolutely insane. Then there was the nipple issue. I was cold and wet and needed to make sure that both of them were pointing in the same direction. There’s nothing more awkward than two nipples pointing in opposite directions. It’s distracting, like lizard eyes. So I kept blatantly looking down at my girls, because there’s really no way to discreetly do it. People probably thought I was being narcissistic and I wanted to explain “No, I actually hate myself, it’s just a simple nipple check!” I finally gave up and put my daughter in charge. I told her if she noticed my nipples going rogue she needed to let me know so I could line them back up. She asked if she could have a more socially acceptable chore, like scrubbing toilets or doing dishes. Whatever. Next year I’m going in a wetsuit.
Well 2013 was an amazing year! I managed to stay out of prison for the 36th consecutive year in a row, my husband hasn’t smothered me in my sleep, yet. AND I was able to put off my first mammogram.
I took a look at last years resolutions and had a good laugh. I never actually follow through with any of my resolutions. The only reason I make them in the first place is because of peer pressure. All the cool people are doing it. I make my resolutions before midnight on the 31st and by 2 a.m. I’ve already forgotten what I resolved to do. So I’ve discovered a different way to do resolutions that may work better for me. 12 Months 12 Challenges. Instead of cramming a million resolutions into the whole year, I’ll break it down month by month. Baby steps.
For January’s challenge, I’m simplifying my house using a book called 30 Days to a Simpler Life by Connie Cox & Chris Evatt. Clearly Connie and Chris have never been to my home. It’s going to take me 30 days just to simplify my closet. I’m thinking about getting rid of the majority of my husbands clothes. That’ll be easier than parting with my own. I’ll let you know how it goes.
In the meantime, I wish you all a safe and happy new year, filled with love, health, and lots of sparkly things. Thanks for sticking with me through 2013!
What about you? What kind of resolutions do you have planned?
Look at those angry eyebrows!
So this is Puck (as in hockey puck), the newest addition to the Rochon household. Aside from eating cat poop, he’s very smart and follows basic commands. In addition, he understands “Puck drop” “Puck no” and “Puck off”. He is part German Shepherd, and part Shar Pei.
See? Shar Pei.
He’s adorable, he’s cuddly, and he poops. A LOT. We got Puck at six weeks old and so of course he’s not potty trained at all. At first I was all “Awww, he’s jus’ a widdow puppy!” Six weeks later I’m like “Why the hell won’t this demon spawn just shit outside?”
The three-year old was standing next to me one time when I found a stinky little gift the puppy left for me on the bedroom floor. I yelled across the house to my husband “PUCK SHIT ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!” My son looks up at me and with the biggest, bluest eyes he says very matter of fact…”I don’t do that. I shit in the potty.”
A lot has been happening here at the Rochon household including but not limited to: finals week, a career path change, a new puppy, finding a few gray hairs on my head, homeschooling, and a son that has decided to join the Marines (which I’m pretty sure explains the gray hair) . So I pop in the Yoga for stress relief. As I’m laying on the ground in a very calming stretch, the puppy is playing tug-of-war with my hair at the same time the toddler is shoving what I hope to God was a raisin into my mouth. So I’ve decided that instead of Yoga for stress relief, I’m just going to start drinking wine a little earlier in the day. Maybe instead of my morning coffee.
Typically I like to keep things light and funny here at Lisa’s Rant, but there’s drama happening, and since I have this outlet I figured I’d reach out to people for hope.
I’ve known people who’ve suffered tremendous, unthinkable losses and my heart has broken for them. I’ve lost people who I cared about, but I’ve never lost anything, or anyone, that changed my day-to-day life. Until last Monday when my dog died very suddenly of liver problems. It happened in less than four hours. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. If I’m being honest, I don’t even really like dogs. (Sorry to my dog lovers out there, I’m a total cat person) My Jack was the one exception.
He was always there. Seriously…always. Now that he’s gone I can see what a huge part of this family he was and how much I took him for granted. I was so used to having him around that I never imagined he wouldn’t be here. He was our security, our protector, our non judgmental friend. Our foot warmer, our goofball, our hiking partner…and I miss him so much. I felt like I was being melodramatic at first. It’s just a dog, right? No. He was a part of my family, a big part of my life. He thought I was awesome, even after he’d seen me dance. Every part of my daily routine reminds me that he’s not here.
I believe in reincarnation. I believe we travel in “soul families”. I also acknowledge that I could be wrong as death is something I don’t know much about. Really I haven’t ever thought of it much until this past week. Now I can’t get it off my mind. Does it hurt? Is it scary? Is there anything past this existence, really? Since this death I’m dealing with is a dog’s death I’m over here wondering things like does he miss us? What did he see when he died? Does he still exist? Can he reincarnate and come home? Would he even want to? Would I know if he did?
It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the fear and sadness. I’m always really good at knowing what I need and how to help myself no matter what the situation is. But this time I just feel completely out of control and helpless.
I believed in reincarnation before my dog passed. It makes sense to me. But I never considered the possibility of a dog reincarnating multiple times in a human’s lifetime. I just assumed we’d meet up in the afterlife and plan our next adventure together. But now I’m clinging obsessively to the idea of reincarnation. Coping mechanism? Probably. But it’s hope…and you know what? I’ll take it.
I miss my dog. This house is depressingly empty without him.