Stuff that Jeanne says

There is no rhyme or reason…

Archive for the tag “children”

Just a few things..



that I’ve learned so far from being a parent!

I only have one, that’s all I ever want and need. I love him to death, but I know my limits and  I have cut myself off from the baby bearing world for good. He’s only 5  and  this is just the beginning.  I don’t know what’s in store for me, but this is what I DO know!


Sleep  This goes without saying..

My bed  My bed will never be that cozy, dreamy place that I long for at the end of the night. Well, I still do after an exhausting day, but it will be full of cookie crumbs. I don’t bother  making the bed when I get up. It will just be a mess by the end of the day from my child jumping on it when I’m not looking. A queen size bed was suffice for just me and my husband, but since our child wakes up in the middle of the night and crawls into our bed, we might just upgrade to a King size. (It’s easier than getting up at 3am to put him back in his room) This will avoid me having to wake up with a foot in my rib and an elbow to the head.

My TV.Forget about coming home and watching the episode of Ellen that I dvr’d while at work. Nope, instead I watch things like  Spongebob squarepants, Pokemon, Fairly Oddparents & Power Rangers. And I’ve seen every episode 10 times!  ( I can hear Spongebob maniacally laughing at me while he monopolizes my TV on the daily!)

Best Day Ever

Shove it Spongebob!

A clean house  I don’t know why i bother. Not long after I have straightened up the house, I find empty juice boxes, and candy and gummy wrappers everywhere. There are enough crumbs under the sofa cushions to feed half the ant population. I never invite people over because I am ashamed of the amount of dust caked up on my ceiling fans, and picture frames on the walls. Honestly, I don’t have time for that nonsense! Once it starts falling on my head, THEN I will dust!

A clean car  The backseat of my car looks like squatters live there. I swear they sneak out at 6:30 every morning. There are unidentified substances encrusted into the interior. The backside of my front seats have toddler sized footprints all over them, there are juice and milk stains on the seats,  and the windows are covered in fingerprints and smudges!

A night out  Everyone’s “Busy that night”, when you ask them to watch your child so that maybe we could go to the Christmas party we were invited to.  And if by chance we do get a babysitter, I feel so haggard these days  that I am  home by 10!

Things I have gained!

Stretch marks  yea, that’s right! Those creepy little bastards that don’t go away! You will either get them, or you won’t.  If you do, you  might as well start naming them, because they do not leave! And if its in your fabulous genes to not get stretchmarks, I hate you.

It doesn't work!

Bags under my eyes  I  have enough baggage to pack for a 2 week trip to Paris. From waking up every night removing the foot from my rib. From staying up late watching every show I dvr’d. And as they say, once you have a child, you will never sleep the same again. Aint that the truth!

Grey hairs  Of course from the stress of raising a child, but also because I don’t  have the time or money to go to the salon and get my hair done!

An extra large grocery bill. My son is only 5 years old, but he eats like an obese 40 year old man.

But most importantly, I have gained an unconditional love that cannot be matched. An endless supply of hugs and kisses (until he’s a teenager I’m guessing), the excitement that only a child can bring when learning and seeing new things, and the miracle of life.

Mommy loves you Michael..

With every stretch mark on her body

every crumb she has to wipe off her bed,

every juice box that she has to throw away

and with every elbow to the head!

My Love!

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The Swear Jar (warning, this post is Rated R!)

I love to swear. I’m not going to lie. I swear  when I express many feelings. Anger-“I hate this fucking place!” Joy-“I am so fucking happy!” Amazement-“That is so fucking cool” ( i guess you know what my favorite word is)

I like to call myself a 9 to 5 swearer, with occasional evenings, weekends, and holidays. I do it with my co-workers, with my husband, and around friends. Growing up, swearing was not allowed or tolerated in my home. My dad was the only one allowed to do it, and if my mom did it when he was around she had to hear him “stop swearing in front of the fucking children!” My mom had an arsenal of weapons to destroy us if a swear slipped out of our mouths. First was the bar of soap (which I am sure many of you have feared in your day), there was also a squirt gun filled with soap and water, and then the slipper she used to take off and chase us with. To this day, I will not swear in front of my mom, aunts, uncles, mother in law, or any other person I encounter that is not in  my comfort “swear” zone. Honestly, I don’t even feel comfortable swearing in this post!

Cookie Monster

So, throw a 5 year old, impressionable, sponge brain  little boy into the mix and things get tricky. Luckily I have the ability to turn off the swear switch, but I have a husband, who has no filter. He does not know how to shut it off. I have to say, he has gotten better, and only recently since we instituted the swear jar! And let me tell you why. My son has a Nintendo DS, which has a voice recorder. One day him and I were recording silly voices and songs. He sang the cutest version of “C is for Cookie” in his cookie monster voice. He walked out of the living room and into his bedroom, and what he was doing in his bedroom would not be discovered until later that evening. My husband and I were sitting down watching TV, while our sweet, innocent, little boy was fast asleep. I said to my husband  “oh, let me show you the cute song that your son made”. What we heard made our jaws drop. It was the C is for Cookie song, but not the one I heard, it was a remix. It started off so nice, “C is for cookie, and cookie is for me….” but at the end of the song, in a faint whisper of a voice it said “mother fucker”. WHAT??? We had to play it again, and again, to make sure we heard it right. We were in such disbelief.

Now let me clarify something, we are not walking around here swearing all the time. If you are a parent, you know just as well how difficult it is to shelter your child from everything. If I could put him in a plastic bubble until he is 18 I would, but what good would that do him?

The next morning, I confronted him, with kid gloves of course. He had a complete and total meltdown about it, knew that it was wrong, and vowed to never do it again. My husband came up with the idea for a swear jar, and I knew exactly how this was going to go. He said, for every swear that mommy and daddy say, we will put a dollar in the jar. And if our son swore, he would have to put 50 cents. Well, here’s the thing, our son doesn’t swear. Only in song…on his Nintendo DS…and the money in the swear jar will be used to do fun family things….We cannot use words like, crap, poop, dummy, stupid and any other offensive words in the spectrum of swear words. Since the swear jar has been implemented, my 5 year old is all over us like a fly on shit! (i know, that’s a dollar!) I never realized how many “bad” words there are for a 5 year old. He could be two rooms away and will hear me if I say “crap!”  He will run over to me, shake his finger, tilt his head to the side, and tell me “you have to put a dollar in there!”

One day, I think I tried to lie and say I didn’t say a bad word, and he said ” don’t lie mom, are we going to have to start a lying jar too?” Son of a gun, how dare he?! Who is the parent here?

Currently there is $13.00 in the jar. Mostly from my husband. Considering this was started about a month ago, we’re not doing so bad. Right? You don’t realize how much it takes to go into parenting until you have a child of your own. You make a conscious effort to change some of the behaviors you are accustomed to, because you don’t want be a poor influence to him or her. We all have such high expectations for them, but at the end of the day, they are their own person who will make their own decisions. What we can do as parents is offer guidance, teach right from wrong, love, and support them. So, in 15 years you come across a young man saying things like- Jiminy crickets! Fudge that! That’s bullcrap! or Malarky! Please be kind, because he just might be my son.

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