Weekendishness

I've found that part of being an active, fun, and spontaneous mom is planning (lol spontaneous). I've mentioned before that Hubbs and I have Bub four days a week- Thursday through Sunday. Like most other adults, we work during the week, so I find that making plans for the weekend is a big help in getting the most out of our time with the munchkin. 

We spend a lot of our time during the summer at various craft fairs, festival, and carnivals. Two big pluses I have found with these activities- they're usually cheap and there's always something different. This is our third summer together and we have our favorites, but there are always new ones popping up. Plus, Bub is getting more out of them as he has grown from mostly stroller-bound to walking around, and isn't afraid of rides anymore. 

This past weekend we, along with Grandma and Grandpa, went to The Seafood Festival and The Greek Festival that we go to every year. The Seafood Festival is on the water in Sayville and it was a beautiful sunny day. There was great music, great food, pirate shows, a petting zoo, face painting, airbrush tattoos, kiddie crafts, and lots of local vendors out with their goods. 

We had a funtastic time walking around browsing all the goods, buying knick knacks and talking with random people about jewelry, cigars, our tattoos, and our face painted child (he got a Batman mask and then a bat-signal airbrush tattoo). We sat on the grass by the water, listened to music, and Bub ate a quickly melting Spider-Man from the ice cream man that left us both a sticky mess, but we cleaned off in the portable sinks with soap and water (which we wiggled off as there were no paper towels). People stared as Hubbs, Bub, and I played, laughed, and had ourselves a great time, and I would like to think they stared because its nice to watch a family out having fun together.

After a quick nap-time at home, we went out for a Hibachi dinner before the Greek Festival in Port Jefferson. It had grown exponentially from last year, and the first thing we did was buy ride tickets (because Con waited patiently alllllllll day til it was time for ’the ride fair’). He went on everything about three times, laughing in the cars and teacups, making friends on the kiddie coaster, and being brave for Jennimamma (because I'm scared of the big slides that he lovvvvves) and brave for himself going on the carousel for the first time. 

Hubbs and I got some time to ourselves when Grandma said we could walk around and she would take him for another round of rides, and we shopped around, making friends with a jewelry vendor who told Hubbs he was the luckiest man around for having a girl like me and offered him half off anything we were going to buy (which is awesome because something labeled 30 bucks becoming 15 is always something to be excited about). Hubbs bought himself a bracelet and me a charm bracelet, while the vendor advised us to move to Hawaii and have a happy life together. 

We watched a fantastic firework show, and played carnival games with Bub. He won himself a red angry bird by getting two baskets in a basketball game (I was so excited when the net swished I jumped up and down clapping and cheering). We bought him light up sling shot helicopters, and made sand art together. 

I held him when he cried because he didn't win the game where you squirt the clown to make the balloon pop, and felt bad that he was so sad. Hubbs and I explained he did such a good job and you can't win every time, to which he responded, “I know, but I tried really hard.” He didn't throw a tantrum and he didn't wail over it, but he was tired and the disappointment turned into tears easier than it normally would have. When we told him not to cry, to be happy he did such a good job, he told us, “I just can't help it right now, I'm sad I didn't pop my balloon.” I told him that there was nothing wrong with crying and rubbed his back, still telling him he did a really great job and reminding him of his basket toss success. He had finished crying before we were halfway out of the fair, and was back to being his happy baby self, asking to see his angry bird. 

At home he didn't fight me when I explained we had to wipe off his black batman mask because of the white sheets, and he helped me wipe off the green dinosaur I had on my cheek. He slept with his angry bird. 

Sunday we took it easy, he helped me weed the beds in the front of his house while also practicing kicking a ball ’really, really high like daddy’ who was also doing yard work. I showed him how his slingshot helicopter worked and he delighted himself in being able to make something fly. He spent some time in his iPad, and we drew on his chalkboard together (a wall we painted in his room), which he had previously filled with ’J’s and hearts for his Jennimamma. 

It's always a sad affair, dropping him off to his Aunt Lisa (who is awesome and wonderful and who we all adore). It's filled with ’I love you’s and ’we’ll miss you’s, but he has gotten used to it and hardly ever cries over it anymore. I always tell him that we’ll be seeing him in three days, and let him know of fun things we’ll be doing when he comes back home. 

This Thursday I plan on surprising him with number 4 donuts from Dunkin Donuts, because they’ll make number donuts if you order them and 4 is unequivocally his favorite number (at least until he turns 5). 

Tattooed Parents- we're just like the rest

As hard as we all try to be open minded and reign in the urge to judge there are many stigmas that society still holds fast to. One that affects me specifically is the bias that still exists toward people with tattoos. No, I am not talking about the cute little heart on your ankle or the butterfly on your hip as society seems to have gotten over those. I'm talking about people who have devoted their bodies to art. 

Hubbs, Bub, and I went on a family vacation to Disney World this year with grandma and grandpa (his parents). It was our first vacation together and we got stared at. I'm talking full on open mouthed gawking, pointing, and whispering. People visiting the world of Disney even looked angered and offended by us, especially when pushing little man around in his stroller. Apparently it was bad enough that we were tattooed, but adding offspring to the mix was completely outrageous. I wasn't really surprised.

Now, I'm really not all that far along on the road to being a thoroughly tattooed female. I have six. I intend to have a sleeve, a half sleeve, at least one lower leg sleeved (socked?) and one finger. However, 98% of my tattoos are clearly visible when it its winter. I also have a septum piercing and a tongue piercing as well as a couple others. There's barely a part of Hubbs left un-inked. He would literally have to be wearing a full hazmat suit to conceal them all, and he also had 1 1/4 inch gauge tunnels in his ears. We get looks wherever we go. 

What I don't understand is...what is the big deal? Tattoos are much more widely accepted today than they were even eight years ago when I first sat in the chair. But they are still deemed 'unprofessional' in many circles and cause people to give you a wide berth on the sidewalk. And people with tattoos are just that- people with tattoos. I understand that not too long ago there were serious crime/gang associates almost exclusively linked with tattooing, but this is the 21st century and having tattoos on my chest doesn't make me a bad person. I'm actually a pretty good person. Up until my recent hospitalization I was gainfully employed at a respectable business, I paid my bills, and took care of my family. My time was devoted to going out of my way to make other people happy, and every once in a while I indulged in a tattoo session to give myself a little happiness too. 

I've heard outrageous stories: mothers pulling their children away from guys with tattoos and telling them, "stay away from dirty bikers," and seen fathers step in front of their children, acting as shields, from a woman asking for directions. Really? That 'dirty biker' was at a fair with his family and an active participant in children's charities.  Color is only skin deep. A narrow mind permeates your entire being. 

Hubbs really has it worse than I do for the time being. He's an intimidating figure as it is at a brawny 6'2. But people see his tattoos- head to neck to knuckles to legs- and they back away, never mind that he is often described by little old ladies as a sweet, polite, and gracious gentleman. He works in the service industry and encounters all kind of people on a daily basis, walking into their homes to fix whatever has gone wrong. He is always first met with wide eyes and an instantaneous narrowing of the door opening, but he is the one that people always want coming back because he is a kind, respectful man. He is the one who will drag an older customer's garbage cans to the sidewalk without being asked, he'll fix the shower head even though it isn't his job, he'll play with your dog and talk to your kids. Every week he mows the lawn of our neighbor across the street because she is older and he doesn't want her to have to spend her fixed income on a landscaper. 

We are active, loving, attentive parents. We play at the park, we only employ a babysitter for work emergencies, and our kid is well mannered, patient, and well behaved (even though he is out of control spoiled). We often get complimented on his good behavior (and awesome array of fedoras). We have many friends who are also tattooed parents and they are all loving, wonderful, colorful people. I know that there are those who are tattooed and do not fit what I am saying, but that has nothing to do with their body art and everything to do with who they are as a person. Like I said, we're just people, same as everyone else out there. 

So keep in mind the next time you see a tattooed mom or dad, that they may be a few different colors on the outside, but on the inside we're still all the same. 

You've Got To Be Kidding Me- A Quickie

I'm doing a short one tonight and posting from my phone because that's what happens when you do favors for your friends. This wasn't what I was planning on writing today, however it's been on my mind all day long.

I've mentioned that Hubbs and I have the baby four days a week. The other two or three days he's usually with his Aunt Lisa. Baby Mama usually sees him about once a week. Well...

Last night I went with Conner to the bathroom because even though he's fully potty trained he still always wants company. He took off his shorts to pee and when he was done I grabbed them to help him put them back on. And then I noticed that he wasn't wearing underwear. He got dropped off to our house without any underwear on. 

Now..other than the fact that he wasn't wearing underwear, he had a bad rash on his butt because he has eczema and allergies and has super bad skin. We combat this with a host of skin creams and allergy medicine as well as also trying to make sure that he is in clean, cotton clothes. 

So I asked him why he wasn't wearing any underwear. "Mommy and Shaun and Aunt Lisa didn't have any underwear for me." 

"Oh, well lets go put some on." 

"I'm so glad you always have underwear for me Jennimamma!" 

Of course I do. Because I do your laundry and make sure you have clean clothes. I don't constantly drop you off in dirty clothes, sweats and long sleeves in the summer time, or shirtless in the dead of winter. Because I love you. 

Seriously. Am I overreacting? Am I under reacting? Hubbs constantly tries to tell her to get her act together. This past winter we bought him two winter coats and both were lost and never seen again.  He had pneumonia as a three year old. His mom is going to school to be a nurse. What the hell is going on? It isn't rocket science. He's a baby, you have to take care of him. He is more important than you are- forever and always. 

Any stepmoms out there deal with this? Any moms who have this problem with their ex? It'd be cool to have some legit feedback. 

How To Be a Better Parent in One Simple Step

Now, I haven't been a parent for a very long time, but I'm young and am therefore going to use my youth as an excuse to pretend that I know everything and offer up some advice/criticism to other parents out there. Sort of, but not really. 

Remember back in the day (my back in the day so think 80's and early 90's) when you watched a movie or television show and the hallmark of an in-attentive and overworked parent (usually the father) was a businessman in a suit either sitting in his office at his desk answering phone call after phone call while his wife and kids were on the other side of the split screen staring with exasperation and sadness at the kitchen clock, or at home with one of those cinderblock sized cell phones perma-glued to his face and holding up the international 'just a second' finger while kids walk in and out of frame (sometimes with a football or baseball mitt in hand)? And, as a kid, you swore that you'd never be that guy because you wanted to be involved in your children's lives and you know how much it sucked to be that ignored kid. Or you were a girl and didn't worry about it cause women who worked were beast machines who could do it all. 

Well guess what...chances are, you totally betrayed that kid you used to be and have turned into that guy, or girl, mostly because we all suck and partially because, as kids, we couldn't grasp how things in the adult world worked and sometimes it really isn't as simple as putting the phone down and transitioning into play-mode.

We live in a society dominated by connectivity. Generations younger than mine will not know a time when everybody did not have a cell phone, where everyone didn't have access to a computer or the Internet, and when Siri wasn't a household name. 

There are definitely advantages as well as drawbacks to this widespread use of technology for communication and entertainment. I dare any teenager to try and tell their parents that they didn't have the number for someone in their class to get a homework assignment from a missed class (aside from the fact that they were probably emailed by their teacher already anyway) or tell their parents they were unable to call and check in because they weren't near a phone or didn't have change for a pay phone. Disadvantage kid, advantage parents.

But, really, what is all of this connectivity and instant gratification doing to us and our relationships? It's true, there is not a single person that I know who doesn't have a cell phone, much less a smart phone. If I wanted to get in touch with most of my friends I can call, text, FaceTime, tweet, Facebook message, email, or shout them out on Instagram. And I'm not that big of a social media user. I literally am just beginning to grasp how twitter works. Now, that really doesn't seem like a bad thing. It is genuinely useful to be able to get in touch with someone when need be. 

The trouble, to me at least, is that 'when need be' has been redefined to become synonymous with 'constantly'. There is a steady decrease of instances of that phone call that you used to make at the end of the day to your best friend to talk about what went on in your days and an increase of a constant stream of texts, pics, videos and other assorted crap that keeps you updated in real time. There's no reason to sit at the dinner table and talk about everyone in the family's day because, well, everyone already knows what went on. And, even if something was tweeted without notice and was missed, it'll be seen when the twitter feed refreshes between forkfuls of mashed potatoes. Dinner tables should be a phone free zone. 

That's really the advice that I'm trying to give. Make it a priority to create cellphone free zones, whether they be actual physical places where no phones are allowed or time frames where they're left safely in pockets and purses- or better yet bedrooms and desk drawers. Leave your phone alone. Focus on being a parent. Make playtime a priority with the little ones, and for older ones, use the time for face to face conversation with lots of eye contact. 

For example- Hubbs and I are big park people. If it is nice outside we will take Bub to the park for hours. We chase him around, slide down the slides, and push him on the swing or help him cross the monkey bars. We play. And yeah, I am always armed with my iPhone because I am that annoying person who wants to take pictures of every precious thing that he does to upload to Facebook and Instagram later on when I'm going to bed because I think my kid is the coolest kid on the planet. But that's it. I take a few photos. I don't text, or check my email, Facebook, Instagram, twitter, or anything else. When Conner calls out, "Jenny, watch me!" He doesn't really have to because I'm already watching him. 

Unfortunately, Hubbs and I are generally the only ones watching. Other parents have their eyeballs either glued to the screen or do the five minutes of staring at the screen then 30 second flick of the eyes to make sure their kid hasn't been abducted maneuver. I genuinely get angry hearing kids calling for their parents and their parents responding with a dramatically annoyed "what?"

Your kid is trying to interact with you, that's what. People say it all of the time and it's true: the time is going to come when you are going to want to sit and talk to your kid and they will no longer be interested. Get your time in with them while you still can.

Beyond that, you're setting a bad example. Your kid is learning from you that cellphones are more important. That it's acceptable to be constantly playing with your phone while having a conversation with someone in real life 3D, while eating dinner, while grocery shopping, while trying to get your work done. Your kid is learning through you that cellphone interaction is just as important, if not more so, than human interaction.

That is not something that I want my kid to learn. We do not have cellphones out during dinner. Park time is playtime- no phones allowed. Same if we go out as a family to Grammy and PawPaw's house. Yes, there are times Daddy has to take a phone call from his boss, and there are times Jenny checks to make sure that whoever is blowing up her phone isn't on their deathbed. But those are few and far between, because being good parents to our 4 year old is more important. Put your phones away, your kids are worth it. 

Evolution: From Jenny to Mamma to Jennimamma

(And back again)

Honestly, remembering the first time Bub ever called me mommy is a mixed bag of emotions. I do remember how I felt at the time- I was heartbroken. Heartbroken because I wasn't his mommy, heartbroken because he wanted me to be, heartbroken because his mommy wasn't a better mother.

We were home alone together. I sat down with him and explained that I was his Jenny, that mommy would be sad if he called me mommy, and not every boy was as lucky as he was to have a Jenny and a Mommy. He accepted this, for a while, and reverted to calling me 'his Jenny'.

I spoke about it with Joe later that night. He told me Conner was probably just expressing the fact that in the short time that I had been in his life I was a better and more attentive mother to him than Baby Mama ever was. "You spend time with him, you cuddle with him when he wants hugs. She yells at him every time he walks up to her."

From that point on I simply reminded Conner that I was his Jenny, not his mommy, anytime he called me mommy or momma. It broke my heart every time, because I knew from the sad look on his face that we both wished it were different.

As he got older he became more inquisitive, naturally. He wanted to know more about himself in relation to the other people in his family. Grandma and Grandpa were daddy's mommy and daddy, Grammy and Pawpaw were Jenny's mommy and daddy, and he had his mommy and daddy...and his Jenny. One day in the car on the way to the mall he informed me that when he was really little he was a baby in mummy's tummy until he grew up and came out. We then talked about how daddy came from Grandma's tummy and I came from Grammy's tummy. "What about your tummy, Jenny? What's in your tummy?"

"Nothing right now. But one day when Daddy and Jenny decide to have a baby, I'll have a baby in my tummy and then I'll be a mommy and you'll be a big brother."

"But how come I can't come out of your tummy so you can be my mommy? I want to grow up in your tummy so you'll be my mommy." Heartbreak all over again.

"Baby, you only get to be in a tummy once. And besides, you wouldn't fit in my tummy anymore, you're a big boy now."

He didn't bring it up again while we were at the mall. We shopped around, got him some new toys and clothes, had lunch together, and went home. We were playing I cars together, calling each other mountains and driving the cars up each others legs to our heads. Complete giggle fest. During one of Darryl Cartrip's trip up Jenny Mountain, however, Conner pulled his hand away. "Jenny, I want to come out of your tummy so you can be my mommy." He was visibly upset. I pulled him into my lap and hugged him. I kissed the top of his head.

"I know Bubba."

By far, the worst incident was our Disney trip. We went with Grandma and Grandpa and had an amazing time. One night at the resort he went into an endless chorus of 'mamma', almost like Stewie from the Family Guy episode 'Stewie Loves Lois'. And he was relentless. No matter what we said, no matter how much we told him no, he wouldn't stop. I remember helplessly looking at Joe. Finally we flat out told him not to call me mamma. He stopped happily dancing around, glared at the four adults who were telling him no after telling him yes to everything else, and stormed off to his room. I went into our room and cried.

When we got home I explained to Conner that I was his stepmom (after talking it over with Hubbs) and that he should call me Jenny. That satisfied him, for a while. He slipped from time to time, but seemed to finally accept me as Jenny- his stepmom. I think have a title for me helped reconcile it in his mind.

It was a few weeks ago that he came up with the moniker Jennimamma. Joe told me to let him call me that if its what he wanted.

He got yelled at by Baby Mama.

When he was over the following Thursday he informed me "Mmmy says I'm not allowed to call anyone else mommy."

"I know baby."

"Are you still my Jennimamma?"

"Of course I am."

"I'll never call anyone else Jenny." I could do nothing but hug him.

The following week he went on a family vacation with his mom's side of the family. When he came back that Thursday I gave him big hugs and kisses and asked about his vacation. He didn't want to talk about it. "I missed my mamma," he told me. I was confused when he said this, knowing that he was with his mother, aunt, and grandfather.

"What do you mean? Where was mommy?"

"You were home with daddy and I missed you. I'm so glad I'm back home with you!" He hugged me so big and kissed me on the side of the neck where I always give him kisses.

Just what am I supposed to do about this?

Obligatory About Me and Some Background

I'm a 26 year old lady living in New York who never in a million years imagined being a stepmom. And then it happened and I just sort of rolled with it. We're an untraditional family- tattooed and pierced parents, unmarried but married, bouncing around the most intelligent 4 year old I have ever come across.

Hubbs and I met by accident, though after the fact his then-best-friend maintains the spur of the moment meeting was planned from the beginning. He didn't speak to me the entire time. We began dating and were inseparable. Even apart, we were constantly together, texting throughout the day from 'good morning' to 'good night'. I won't pretend that it was love at first sight- the week before I suffered a bad breakup and was not fast looking to become involved in another relationship. It just happened. Before a month had passed he told me he loved me, and I full-heartedly reciprocated.

It was two months into our relationship before I met Conner (bub, chubb, the fat kid, the baby). I remember being so nervous for the beach day that we had planned. But, as Hubbs recently told me, "it was love at first sight for you guys." And it was. We were inseparable at the beach. He had turned two only a couple months prior and he led me around the beach by the hand for hours. He cried when it was time to leave and fell asleep in the car on the way home. When he awoke he asked his mother, "where's Jenny?"

Hubbs and I moved in together after 3 months. I guess that's where it all really takes off. We quickly transitioned from being 'just' boyfriend and girlfriend to something more, which I was unable to put a name to for a long time. We had Conner every weekend and I missed him whenever he wasn't around.

It was one day at the park when Conner innocently gave us the title which I had been unable to put a name to. Another little boy asked if he wanted to play and Conner, being the shy boy he was until about 4 months ago, declined saying, "no, I'm playing with my family." I almost cried when he said it- tears well in my eyes when I think of it now. It was amazing.

I asked Joe on the way home about it. "Do you think of us as a family?"

"Yeah I do. I don't think of you as just my girlfriend. You're a part of our family. The three of us are a family." It was sincerely one of the happiest days of my life.

Currently, we have Conner 4 days a week. The three days that he isn't with us, while always wonderful because Hubbs and I are together, just aren't complete.