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Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Children & motherhood

Five reasons my life will never resemble a romantic comedy

November 17, 2011

I enjoy a good rom-com every now and then. Sometimes, you get something totally off the wall, though. Like recently we watched “Gnomeo & Juliet.” On purpose. Without our kids. Slightly ridiculous. I’m not sure Shakespeare would approve. But he’s dead, so who cares?

And “Date Night.” That’s old news, I know, but from the first time I saw the preview, I HAD to see the movie. I was left feeling “eh.”

I’m no Tina Fey and my husband’s no Steve Carell, but here’s our version of Date Night and a few reasons Hollywood’s never going to make a movie that truly represents date night reality.

1. My pre-date preparation included a diaper change and not one, but two children asking to wear makeup. The boy got an adamant but polite “no.” Daddy let him wear a dab of cologne instead.

2. My favorite outfits only fit perfectly in my dreams. Jeans fit a little too tight. (Note to self: get back to the gym.) I think I pick the same shirt for every date. (We’re not regular about our dates, so it could be months between outings. Who remembers what they wore two months ago?) I’m not gonna turn heads, and I’m okay with that. Although when I walked through the bar from the bathroom, I’m sure I heard someone say, “she’s hot.” I’m sure they were talking to the television. I would have been embarrassed if they weren’t.

3. My husband out-of-the-blue complimented me. That sounds bad. Like he doesn’t do that. But sometimes when he does it, I’m expecting it. This time, I wasn’t. Unscripted. I was talking about Bible study at the time. (The reason this scene of our lives would never make it in a movie.) I wasn’t saying anything clever or witty. We were talking about a passion I had. Apparently, that made me beautiful to my husband. His words stopped mine. And I almost cried. I’ll be replaying those words in my head for days.

4. The atmosphere was perfect: dim lighting, high-backed booths, white tablecloth, practically empty dining room. (These pictures tell a better story.) A Food Network-worthy menu. We ate goat cheese pizza for starters. I had local trout with broccoli rabe and roasted potatoes. My husband had short ribs with mushrooms over pasta. My food was perfect. My husband was a little disappointed. In a movie, the food would be the best we’d ever eaten. And our bill would have been expensive. (Post-Groupon, we paid $5, not including tip.) We like to think we’re thrifty at times. Thrifty and romance don’t often mesh. We’re always on the lookout for cheap, I mean, frugal dates. (Look out Salamandra’s, we’re coming your way in December, thanks to a deal on www.saukvalley.com.)

5. That whole ride-off-into-the-sunset, happily-ever-after stuff … I don’t buy it. Our dreamy date ended with our 2-year-old taking a fall down a couple of slick steps outside our friends’ house. He had a knot on his head and a scraped up face. Our daughter, meanwhile, at the same moment, had freaked out about a large worm she almost stepped on and walked right out of one of her shoes. Did I mention it was raining? After we headed back into our friends’ house to clean up our son a little and calm him down, we headed home where we fought the 3-year-old for bed time, doctored the 2-year-old’s head, and read a parenting article about head injuries to make sure we shouldn’t be at the hospital or on the phone with the doctor instead. Once the kids were settled for the night, my husband and I decompressed in front of the computer, watching the latest episode of “Next Iron Chef.” Then, I turned in for the night while my husband stayed up to watch something else.

A totally romantic ending? Maybe not. But it’s reality ever after. I’m learning I can handle reality better if I recognize that my dreams and expectations will rarely measure up to reality.

This band says better what I’m trying to say, I think.

We had escaped our world for a moment and despite the missing ingredients to a successful romantic comedy, we had a wonderful time.

It’s amazing what a couple of childless hours can do for a marriage. Refresh. Renew. Shift the focus off the kids onto the marriage.

Why don’t we do this more often, again?

Filed Under: Children & motherhood, food, Marriage Tagged With: date night disasters, date night ideas, how date night helps a marriage, living the dream, reality, romantic comedies

Growing Pains

November 8, 2011

I haven’t been at this parenting gig long, so correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be the one crying at tumbling class.

I’m the 33-year-old, after all, not the 3-year-old.

No, Izzy didn’t suffer an injury. I did. And not the physical kind that tends to heal more quickly than the emotional one.

After watching her classmates complete the circuit, Isabelle finally got her turn and halfway through it, she peed. On the mat. In her new leotard. In front of everyone. The poor teacher had to leave the class to fetch a janitor, who assured me that I didn’t have to clean up the mess, even though I felt it was my penance for … what? Bad mothering?

I gathered Isabelle’s things and hurriedly ushered her out of the gym while the other parents tried to guess what was happening.

“I guess one of the kids had an accident,” one mom said as we left.

With all the drama I could muster, I declared, “I’m horrified,” then burst into tears as we walked the long hall to the locker room. Encouraging words from the other adults in the hallway followed me, but I barely heard them.

It happens to everyone. I know this. But I’m still embarrassed. And it’s not like Isabelle didn’t go potty before class, less than 30 minutes before her accident.

Maybe if this had been a one-time incident, but it’s been a pattern for the last week. After going almost an entire week with NO accidents, she’s had at least one a day for the last several days. We can count on one finger the number of days in the last 10 that she’s been accident-free.

Frustrating.

That’s the only word for it. I feel like eight months of patience and training (and impatience) has yielded nothing. We’re back to what feels like square one. Packing extra clothes for every occasion. Afraid to leave the house because she might have an accident. Anxious that she’ll pee during one of her “big-girl” classes.

I guess we can cross that last one off the list.

But I don’t know what to do. Bribery, threats (the harmless kind, like taking her out of swimming or tumbling class)  and guilt aren’t working. I feel like my kid is the last one on the block to be accident-free and potty-trained. (She’s going on 4.)

And, of course, that makes me a bad mother. At least it does in my head.

Fortunately, I guess, Isabelle wasn’t bothered by the whole incident. We found her a suitable change of clothes and she went back to tumbling class for the last few minutes. Enough time to jump on a bouncy mat with the other kids.

Now, I’m more embarrassed that I couldn’t handle the situation with grace and a cool demeanor. Probably I’m “that mom who cried” now. Whatever. Sometimes humbling and humiliating seem like the same thing.

But that’s part of the growing process — for both of us. It hurts, and sometimes I hate it. (See my post on the other things I hate about being a mom.)

I know it’s for my good, though. And hers. But don’t you sometimes wish you had it all together now?

How do you handle a situation like this? And what do you say to your kids?

And if you’ve got any magic tricks to potty training, send them my way. Like other things in my life, I’m ready to pray about it after trying everything else first.

If nothing else changes, prayer will change me, at least, and maybe I won’t be the one crying in tumbling class next time.

 

 

Filed Under: Children & motherhood Tagged With: accidents, embarrassing moments, friendly advice, grace under pressure, potty training

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