Confessions of a Bad Parent

Chuck's been gone for two weeks. We had a great time visiting him in the City of Angels last weekend (I'll cover vacation highlights later) but I've basically been a single parent for the past two weeks and we're all suffering. Trying to juggle the meals, bills, licensing the car, Ben, bath time, and working is too much for me.

So, here are two recent (read daily) shortfalls. Confession is good for the soul, right?

1. Jacking Benny's Tunes: Ben falls asleep to Baby Einstein's classical lullabies every night. He loves his tunes and even makes the same noises during certain songs (my mom swears he sings along to Ave Maria). We have two CDs, but I left one in California and one at Evie's house. So, I was trying to find his 18 songs in an iTunes list containing literally thousands of songs. I could find the first song, but the library was set on shuffle. As soon as the last melodic notes of "Piano Sonata No. 7" faded away, Busta Rhyme's "Gimme Some More" scared both of us. Hearing Busta shout, "Yeah," was definitely not what we were expecting. Thankfully, SG set me straight on how to manage iTunes and we were in business.

2. Letting Ben Play on the Stove: By the time it's bedtime, our household is starting to unravel. Ben is fussy, dishes are stacked in the sink, food stuck to the table (and elsewhere) and for some reason, Ben insists on being held while I heat up his pre-bedtime milk. If I put him on the floor, he rolls around crying. Holding him is inconvenient so I usually put him on the stove. He scoots around up there, sets the oven to "Clean" mode and stacks my spices in candle holders, stores his pacifier in the tea pot. He loves it and I get 45 seconds to make a bottle. I think we can all agree that the oven is not an appropriate toy for a 15-month-old, but at that time of day, all of the appropriate toys are old news.

I have a myriad of other shortcomings that involve letting Ben eat chips or a cinnamon roll so I can finish dinner. I also let him play on the washer when I'm folding clothes and the vanity when I'm getting ready. For variety, sometimes I put him Chuck's dirty clothes hamper for folding and the hot tub for getting ready. Usually Gary joins him and they look like they're having the adventure of their lives so I only feel a little guilty basically locking my baby up so I can put on some mascara or find clean underwear.

My mom always says, "I know I ruined you kids," and I think about these things and wonder how I'm currently ruining Ben. I can imagine him solemnly telling his therapist, "No, I didn't have any toys as a child; my mother used to put me in a basket of dirty clothes to play." Or worse, "My mother made me listen to Busta Rhymes."

Vacation Smation

Chuck and I have amazingly bad luck when it comes to vacations. We're fine if we go with friends or family, but any time we've ever booked a trip for just the two of us (or now with Ben) the world is against us...usually in the form of the weather.

Here's a look back at some of our thwarted plans:

1. September 2004: First trip together to Nashville, Tennessee. I broke my foot just two days before we left. Actually Chuck broke it in what he calls "a legal bump and run" move. We were playing catch at a party and he pushed me...ok, he bumped into me and I lost my balance. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the four inch stilettos I was wearing. We still went on the trip and he wheeled me around Music City in rent-a-wheelchairs.

2. December 2005: Our honeymoon. We had booked a beautiful resort in Cancun, Mexico and it was going to be the first time either of us left the continental United States. In comes hurricane Wilma and half of our resort was flooded. The beaches were closed and most of the city was concrete rubble. We did enjoy Chichen Itza, though.

3. August 2008: Last trip before Ben's birth. We booked a trip to New Smyrna Beach, Florida hoping to enjoy a little time together before we were a family of three. A tropical storm, I can't remember the name, wrecked only New Smyrna. The highway running into the town was actually closed. I called the hotel and they said, "Don't come, we're trying to leave."

4. January 2010: Quick trip to LA while Chuck was in Insurance School. Southern California was struck with massive thunderstorm, flooding and mudslides. To heck with it, we came anyway and so far are having a great time.

We'll see how it goes tomorrow.

The Secrets We Keep

Last night, a dear friend wouldn't share her husband's most embarrassing moment with us (her girlfriends) and her loyalty reminded me that a little discretion can go a long way. I believe secrets have their place and can make marriage and life a lot smoother.

Last Saturday, my dad took all of his employees (and Chuck and me) to a minor league hockey game and my mom watched Ben while we were out. When we got home, she said, "Gary was up on the counter licking the butter so I shooed him off."

Now, Gary does naughty things like this regularly, and this was not his first offense with the butter. But I never ever tell Chuck that Gary licks the butter, because Chuck would freak out and hate the cat.

So, I playfully scolded my mom telling her, "Shh, we don't admit that stuff in front of Chuck."

Then Chuck decided to confess to a secret he'd been keeping. While I was gone earlier that day, Ben lifted the lid to the toilet and was practically swimming in the water. He was halfway in the bowl squealing and splashing with delight. As Chuck showed me the motion, I asked, "So, he was basically practicing his freestyle in the toilet?"

Chuck's reply, "Yeah, but at least his face wasn't wet."

Even though these secrets are amusing, I kind of wish they were still secrets. Sometimes when I'm about to kiss Ben's cute little face, I think about his head in the toilet. I know that I regularly scrub both Ben's head and the toilet, but it still grosses me out.

And Chuck keeps asking me, "Did Gary lick this butter?" He can keep asking, but I never tell.

Two Timin' Meals

My mom is scheduled to have a major surgery tomorrow and I've spent the last two weeks preparing frozen meals for her recovery time. I've been half-heartedly trying to master this skill for several years, but with Mom's impending surgery, I kicked it into high gear.

Here are three recipes I've used to create these Two Timin' meals.

1. Crock pot Chicken and Vegetables:

1 whole chicken

6 medium potatoes

6-10 carrots

Favorite spices and seasoning

Remove whatever is inside the chicken, rinse and pat dry. Season with your favorite seasoning - you really cannot go wrong. I always use salt, but then mix in paprika, garlic, white/black/red pepper. Just load it up with whatever you think will taste good. Peel and cut potatoes and carrots into chunks. Place vegetables and then chicken in the crock pot and cook on low for eight hours. The chicken will be fall-off-the-bone tender!

2. Minestrone:

I used a Rachael Ray recipe this time - Hearty Minestrone. She has several good minestrone recipes or you could simply make your own. Minestrone is delicious with many beans and "Italian" vegetables like celery, carrots, zucchini. Here is the recipe.

3. Baked Shells Casserole:

This is another recipe from Rachael Ray, but this is more complicated and takes longer than her usual 30-minute meals so I doubled the recipe. Click here for the link.

I use a Foodsaver to vacuum-seal double portions, but have also used Ziplock bags too. I haven't tasted Baked Shells yet, so here's hoping it's delicious!

Inappropriate Clapping

Like all parents, I work with Ben daily on things like clapping, waving and simple signs. So far, none of these hand signals have really sunk in. He either ignores them completely or uses them inappropriately.

After two weeks of diligent practice, and zero progress, I thought Ben wasn't ready to learn the "please" sign. I stopped practicing, planning to reintroduce it in a few weeks. One afternoon, about 10 days since I last used it, Ben desperately wanted his blanket and he patted his chest twice. So, it must be in his little brain somewhere, the trick is getting it out.

Waving is only slightly better. Instead of waving hello or goodbye, even after uncomfortably long goodbyes with his babysitter every signal day, Ben still will not wave. He sits there looking at everyone waving like they're crazy and, if we're being honest, he's right. No one really waves and smiles for five minutes every single time they say goodbye.

He does however hold his hands palms up wiggling his fingers toward him in a "gimme" fashion. Inexplicably, he uses this made up "gimme" sign consistently correctly asking for more food or his pacifier.

But by far, my favorite inappropriate hand signal is when he chooses to clap. He's been clapping for about five months and recently started clapping to music and will sometimes clap along with Chuck or I when he does something well. But more often, he claps when he's upset. I'll be changing his diaper and he's wailing like I'm torturing him, then he starts clapping. "Whaaa, clap, clap, clap. Whaaaa, clap, clap, clap."

Now, he's started clapping when someone accomplishes something that isn't that great. It seems sort of sarcastic. Today during church, after a prayer, he started clapping a unenthusiastic clap. It seemed like he was saying, "Nice prayer."

More and more I'm seeing that Ben knows his own mind and as he grows up, I need to encourage him to be exactly who he is. Let's face it, he may always have a pension for clapping inappropriately or think prolonged goodbyes are lame.

Should you leave your children with your husband?

Before I had Ben, actually before I was even pregnant, a friend told me about her friend who always hired a babysitter to watch her daughter even if her husband was available. She said, "Yep, she never leaves Lilly with Derek."

At the time, I thought that set up was absurd. I even said, "In general, I don't think you should have a baby with someone you wouldn't leave the child with."

In theory, I still think that's a good rule of thumb. However, in practice, I'm starting to have my doubts and here's why.

Chuck has been helping with Ben in the morning so I can get to work on time (still struggling with that) and this morning he was brushing Ben's teeth - all 10 of them. So Chuck asks, nonchalantly, "Why do babies have separate toothpaste, can't they just use ours?"

I explained that babies and toddlers don't know not to swallow toothpaste and if swallowed, toothpaste can be toxic. After several minutes of arguing with me and finally conceding when I showed him the "Do Not Swallow" label on our toothpaste, he said, "Huh, I can't believe that. I've been swallowing toothpaste for years."

At that moment, the conversation with Livi two years earlier came rushing to the forefront of my mind. Then, other memories from the last year came back:

1. Tim asking me if my two-month-old liked Christmas ham.

2. Chuck's dad putting my four-month-old, who just learned to roll over but could not crawl or scoot, belly-down on a gymnastic balance beam and walking away.

3. Chuck letting Ben carry around a plugged-in and on electric heater.

It seems like men think babies are more capable than they are. It's almost like they believe babies are born and the next time you see them, they're eating ham and deciding the best spot for a space heater.

I still believe that you should never have a child with someone you wouldn't trust to raise that child, and I absolutely trust Ben with Chuck, but I'm beginning to see the appeal of a sitter. At least you could come home and find everything how you left it. On the other hand, that's why dads are fun, they let you do things Mom would never even consider.