Category Archives: I’m gonna be a grandma

Welcome to the World, Liam Edward…

This little piece of gorgeous is my new grandson, Liam Edward. He was born on January 25, 2010. He weighed 7.11 at birth and is 21 pounds, much different than his sister, Sadie who only weighed 4.14. My daughter, by no want of her own, had him naturally when the nurses decided she was too far along to have an epidural. So, she troopered through it as women have for all the centuries on earth. Sweetest mother/daughter moment came when my beautiful daughter held my hand, looked deeply into my eyes as she was pushing and said:

“Mom??? Did I just SHIT on the table???”

“Um, no, Sam. That was your son that just came out.”

I know I shouldn’t have been laughing as hard as I was, but it was really a defining moment for my daughter and I. We’re not exactly delicate flowers…but she is very shy and reserved so for her to blurt that out during delivery cracked me up to no end.

My family is growing. I am now a grandmother to TWO beautiful little ones.

Happy New Year to my grandbabies. May all your hopes and dreams come true.

I love you both.

I am a Mommy. I am a Blogger. But…

I am not a “MommyBlogger”. I have to admit that mommy bloggers make me want to eat my own eyes out of my skull. No, I do not think that every single thing my children do are precious. Frankly, they annoy the piss out of me on a daily basis. I come from the Roseanne Barr school of mothering. I gave you life…what the fuck more do you want from me. If by the end of the day, you aren’t dead…then I did my job.

I really tried to get into the Mommy Blogger community, but apparently, if you have teenage children or worse yet, adult children who are married and on their own, they have no use for you. You can’t compare diapering tips on a 14 year old who had died in Xbox heaven. And, you certainly won’t get any compassion if your 22 year old is on her second baby in the course of her three year marriage.

So, I tried Granny Bloggers. Well, most of them are too old. They knit shit and bake cookies shaped like little pine trees with green Christmas sprinkles. I buy the pre made dough and then eat most of it before the cookies even hit the oven.

I got to wondering…does this mean I am doing a shitty job with my kids. And I am here, now, on no sleep for a day and a half to say this:

I am a pretty righteous fucking mom and a cool ass grandmother to boot.

My kids talk to me about drug use, abortion, politics, birth control (though my daughter keeps kind of missing the mark on that one) and all kinds of other bullshit that most kids don’t talk to their moms about. I’m friends with my kids on facebook mainly because their friends find me a huge source of entertainment. Yeah, I talk about blow jobs and lube and spicing up the old marital bed. And you know what? They laugh at me. They think I’m funny. Their friends think I’m the cool mom and say “man, I wish I had a mom like yours”.

So, fuck mommy bloggers who don’t accept me because I don’t fall into the Betty Crocker book of how to be a mom. And fuck granny bloggers who don’t feel that a one year old grandchild possibly qualifies me as an experienced grandmother.

No one in my house is going to Harvard, but both my babies are/have gone to college. My daughter made it to 17 before losing her virginity to the boy she was dating for two years. Her next great love of her life…she married. She’s Pro Life, much to my dismay…but someday, her own daughter may give her a lesson that changes her mind. And my son? He’s a democrat in the making. Average grades. Great musical talent…rocks the fucking guitar like no ones business and all self-taught.

Basically, for a mother who has done absolutely nothing to nurture her kids, my children are Fan fucking tastic. People tell me “CP, you must have done SOMETHING right”. And maybe I did…just by always being honest with them. I never made them believe in Santa or the fucking tooth fairy. I give them their Channukah presents unwrapped with the tags still on them in case they want to take shit back.

So no, I have no clue about the best kindergartens to send your little prodigies to. I have no idea how to make cupcakes for Spirit Day. I let my son dress up as a serial killer for Halloween because it was fucking hysterical. My daughter had more make up at age 14 than I have ever had in my 43 years of life. I just loved buying her girly shit.

But my kids are LOVED. I mean, LOVED. Like, I can’t get through a day without them hugging me or kissing me or at very least texting me. They definitely got the raw end of the deal with me for a mother. But I taught them how NOT to be…and that in itself is a lesson learned.

I shall leave this off with my favorite quote from Roseanne, Domestic Goddess who taught me all I know about mothering Jewish children:

“They’re all mine. . . . Of course, I’d trade any one of them for a dishwasher.”

Or a nice set of Louis Vuitton luggage.

I am still a Jewish Princess, after all.

So here we are…2010.

I notice that as the blog years roll by, I have less and less to say. Sometimes it is because I am so happy that I really don’t have anything to write about. Other times, I am so depressed that I can barely trudge over to the keyboard.

2009, in a nutshell, was a sack full of suckage.

Financially, things were a mess. Our problem with where we will be living still continues. I am still unemployed, albeit by choice. Things are just not as they should be. But, admittedly, there have been years that were far worse.

My husband is optimistic that 2010 is going to be “our” year. He thinks that the housing situation will resolve itself and that things will magically repair themselves. He is making strides to see this dream of his come to fruition. He is good that way. Definitely the rational optimist to my irrational pessimist.

But…I am willing to put on my rose colored glasses for him. After all, no one died (okay, a lot of celebrities did, but no one who is related to us). No one has any fatal illness. Everyone has a home to live in. No one lost their jobs. Everyone is healthy and safe. For that, I am grateful.

2010 is bringing me a new grandson. It is bringing us a lot of uncertainty as far as where we will be living…but there is a lot of excitement there too. Our 14 year old is a happy, well adjusted kid. Our 22 year old is happily married, the mom of a beautiful one year old who is the light of our lives. Her husband is a good guy and treats her with the utmost of respect. And the hotband and I? We’re amazing. We are over the moon happy despite the crazy curve balls that have been thrown in our direction over the past year. I can honestly say that when it feels like everything is going to hell in a handbasket, I can look at him and know that everything is going to be alright.

I generally don’t do resolutions, or if I do, they are half hearted. But, what I DO is make at least one promise to remove something from my life that negatively affected the year prior. This year, I am letting go of anxiety. I am not going to dwell on things that I have no control over. Let go and let God…as cheesy as that sounds.

So, bring on 2010. I know my little family is ready for it. We will always get by so long as we have one another. Nothing else matters.

Celebrating Nicholas.

Let me start by saying how much I love my daughter, Samantha. She’s an amazing girl. She’s smart, cute, funny and embodies the personification of a loving human being. She’s a really good girl. I was very blessed with this child. She was the perfect pregnancy and then, the perfect child. We are close and with the birth of my grandaughter Sadie and the imminent birth of my grandson Liam in January, we have only become closer. Sharing motherhood is a bond between mother and daughter that cannot be described.

That said, let me tell you about Nicholas. He turned 14 yesterday, on Halloween. When Nick was born, he had massive heart and lung defects. He wasn’t expected to live let alone thrive the way he has. An open heart surgery later, after months of being on a heart monitor and sleep apnea machine, he has not only grown but has thrived, turning into a strapping young man who is healthy in every way.

Nick and I are abnormally close. I say abnormally because most mothers and sons do not talk about every aspect of their lives the way Nick and I do. We bond over music especially. We are both musicians. He plays the clarinet, guitar and drums. I am a classically trained pianist and oboe player. Music is our joy and we spend most of our time hanging out, listening to various artists. He has gotten me to appreciate Metallica and Slipknot. I have introduced him to classic rock such as Aerosmith and Pink Floyd.

We hang out all the time. Just…hang out. We find many of the same things to be “cool”. He has no problem introducing me to his friends and telling them how awesome I am. I let him hang out with me and my adult friends because the kid really knows how to have fun. We talk politics. He is a staunch Democrat and of course, being the liberal (leaning toward liberatarian) that I am, I appreciate his candor and knowledge.

Basically, he is the coolest kid I have ever known. He is a little mini-me. Most of all, we share the mutual love of tormenting his father, my ex husband. We don’t bash the man of course, because that would be wrong, but we both kind of agree that he isn’t as “cool” as we are. He tries…but it just doesn’t come together for him.

Nick got his first kiss ever at his school’s Halloween dance this past weekend. And, where most boys wouldn’t discuss it with their mothers, we talked about it in detail, right up to the moment where he and his little girlfriend, Kristi, counted down 3…2…1…KISS! It cracked me up and he enjoyed seeing me laugh about this awkward time for him.

At night, I go into his room, smooth back his mop of curls and kiss his forehead. When he’s asleep, he’s back to being my baby; the little one curled up in his crib with all the tubes and wires attached to him to make sure he gets through the night still breathing. We’ve gotten through everything from divorce to swine flu together. And when he is sleeping, I remember the days that the doctors told me not to be hopeful about his survival.

I couldn’t imagine my life without Nicholas in it. He’s the reason I spend most of my days laughing even when there is nothing much to smile about. He’s the sanity in my life and the reason, somedays, I have the strength to get out of bed and go on.

Happy birthday, Nicholas. Many, many more to come, for us to share…

Mommy loves you.

And yes, I know you read my blog, you little shit. Mind your own business.

Don’t you have some homework to do?

Time to move on…

Well, it finally arrived.

My daughter, her husband and my grandaughter moved into their own place. Oddly enough, I am not nearly as relieved as I thought I would be. Matter of fact, I wish I could bring them back here. The house is so fucking quiet without them. Even when they annoyed me (which was quite often) it was still nicer to have them here.

Last night was the first night that I spent alone in my own house in a LONG time. My husband is in California working. My son spent the night at his fathers. My daughter was spending her second night in her new apartment with her own little family.

And the house was so empty.

It concerns me being alone. Usually when I am alone, I get into trouble. That’s when my addiction really gets the best of me. But, I babied myself last night. Curled up on the couch with some girl scout cookies and watched multiple episodes of “Nurse Jackie”. (Which, if you aren’t watching it on Showtime, you are really missing a phenomenal show. It’s about a drug addicted nurse…so I can relate!)

There’s another part of me that enjoys being alone. I left my parents home at 17 years old and never looked back. I’ve been on my own for a long time. Even in my previous marriages, I felt like I was on my own. I have always been independant so feeling a bit off kilter by being alone threw me a little. I guess I am going to have to get used to it. Hubby will be in California for the next year so I am going to have to suck it up and deal.

In the meantime, I am literally aching for my daughter and grandaughter. I miss the baby crying in the middle of the night. Sure, it woke me up, but there was also a sense of calm knowing she was under my roof. It was my job to protect them. Now they’re on their own…and I worry about them. My son in law and my daughter have been here for the past two and a half years. Then, the baby came along. She has been here for the full 11 months of her life. My daughter told me that when she brought the baby to the new house, she started crying because she didn’t know where she was. That broke my heart.

So, this is a new chapter in my life. The moving on of my children. I don’t know if I am ready for it, but I am usually up for any challenge. Guess I am just going to have to face this with a modicum of grace.

There is a secret part of me that hopes things don’t work out in their new place so they come back “home” to me. But, a bigger part of me wants them to succeed. There is another baby on the way in January, so they have to make this work.

And I, the ever doting mother, will make sure I am there for them no matter what.

Sober and present, able to catch them if they fall.