I Think I've Lost My Owner's Manual

I remember as a child my mother telling me that there was no instruction manual for parenting.  She always told me that you just learned as you went.  At the same time (usually when I was busted at something) she talked to me about mother's intuition.  An instinct; a feeling; that guttural response to your child and their well-being.  It was during the time of pregnancy that I began to understand that instinct.  That feeling inside that let's you know that you would do anything for your child.  While I was pregnant, I remember thinking about all of the things that parenting would be.  I reminded myself what an enormous responsibility and read in an attempt to prepare.  I read and read and read. I read books. I read magazines. I subscribed to this crap on the Internet that sent me updates to my baby's progress.  I bought  What to Expect When You are Expecting and What to Expect the First Year.  Needless to say, after the first one scared the s*%t out of me, I have never cracked any more What to Expect.. books.  I thought, I'll just learn to expect the unexpected.  I mean how bad of a parent could I possibly be.  I don't do drugs. I don't drink too much.  I don't curse in front of others. I go to church on Easter and talk about how I need to "get back in a routine." And most importantly, I'm not crazy.....RIGHT?!? 

What I never expected was that being a mother could make me crazy.  As I sit here thinking about Mother's Day this Sunday, all I can think about is how dramatically my life has changed.  There are so many things that are different about my life in such a short time.  Things that I swore I would never say; I say.  Hearing my own mother's words exit my mouth happen quicker than I can retrieve.  Before I knew it my good son was "Carter" and bad son was instantly called by his full name, "Aiden Carter Boyd."  (I have told all of my friends that before they decide on a name, stand in the living room and yell it to see how natural it feels) There was also some confusion with his name. Yes, I forgot my child's name.  I spent months planning and choosing a name, and insisted it had to be just right. Then, when cracked out on pain meds after 20 hours of labor, weeks prior of no sleep, and recent worry with no sleep because my child was put in the NICU, some idiot thought that would be the best time to ask me to fill out paperwork.  Several months after he was brought home, I began to worry.  I came across my scratchings of name variances for Aiden and panicked!! I will not tell you whether it was right or wrong, only that his birth certificate states "Aiden"!!

Then, lastly, there have been the unexpected phrases.  Not the things that I planned NOT to say, but the things that I never dreamed I would need to say.  Here are a list of just a few for your pure entertainment:

"Is that poop or chocolate?"

"How did you poop through your clothes onto the floor, but no poop is in/on your clothes?"

"Get the dog's toys out of your mouth!"

"Spankings ARE NOT funny!"

"No, you can't go to school naked."
"Do not moon your friends at school. It's not nice. Funny, but not nice."

"Only dogs poop in the backyard, not little boys."

"Is that a Fruit Loop on your testicle?" followed with "Why is a Fruit Loop on your testicle?"

"Did you poopoo or did you just fart?"

"No, your leg is not broken. Go feed the dogs!!"

"You MUST wash your hands every time you touch your woowoo." RESPONSE: "No I don't!"

And the one I seem to be saying more and more these days....

"GET YOU HAND OUT OF YOUR BUTT!!"


So, when you begin to question your parenting abilities, or better yet, think you are ready to become a parent....know that you have been warned!

First Impressions

As a therapist and a parent I understand how impressionable children are. From the moment I found out that I was pregnant, I began planning. I thought about all of the things that I wanted my child to be.  I planned before I even knew if I was having a boy or a girl.  Then, once I realized that I was blessed with a boy, I thought about all of the things that I loved (and didn't) in my husband, father, and grandfather,  and how I wanted to raise a son just right.  I found being the mother of a son a tremendous responsibility.  I needed to teach him how to be chivalrous, respectful, kind, and romantic.  I wanted him to be the fiercest fighter and the sweetest lover.  On the other hand, I think Dain was thinking less about the "mushy part" and more about the manly things.  You know the burping, farting, peeing on things, and the ever important off-road vehicle training that would ensue.  Somewhere in this dramatic difference of procedure, we have raised Carter. I have watched for over 3 1/2 years at how Carter has followed, mimic'd, and learned from his environment. BUT, sometimes things stick that I would rather him forget.  The slipped phrases, the occasional raised voices and then, of course, his first fishing trip. 



In an attempt to make a memory, we went fishing for the first time last Saturday.  I was so excited.  Carter has a "Superman" rod and reel and is able to cast like no one's business.  He has spend many a day sitting on one side of the living room, casting clear across the room and hitting the television with the rubber fish practice piece.  I just knew that he would love the feeling of having a fish on his line that wiggled and pulled as he reeled his catch in.  The excitement; the pride; and for a scrap booking mother, THE PICTURES! I was so excited that I packed food and drinks and everything that we could possibly need to not have a disaster on the water's bank.  I know my child and know what "drugs" (Gummies and Coke Zero) can pull him out of a melt down, and I was ready!  We got to the water, and I was skeptical about the location.  After 45 minutes, no bites, and a melt down on the horizon, I was not about to surrender.  I suggested a pond next to our nephew's place and we were packing up and on our way in less than 5 minutes.  The second location was perfect.  It was secluded; there were horses; memory lane, here we come. I'm sitting in a "ballpark" chair on the water's edge and Carter is standing in-between my legs.  I cast out the first line. Without hesitation, I get a nibble.  I am so excited and all I can do is yell, "Carter, Carter! Momma has a fish biting my worm!" And in an instant, the fish bit and I did what you are supposed to do: jerk the line to sink the hook.  In one swift move I hooked a fish......and NAILED MY SON!! I hit Carter smack in the forehead with my pole full force.  I was ashamed. I felt like the worst mother in the world and could no longer care about the fish, only to console my sweet baby.  Needless to say, he was fine and I forgave myself, putting the whole incident behind me. But then just like a Pavlovian dog something happened; something stuck... From that moment on every time I announced that I had a fish on the line Carter yelled, 

"Oh my God! Oh my God! She's gonna hit me!" while running up the bank.