ML Interest Tag: decide

The Worst & Best of Parenting

By Priya Doshi

Parenting is the hardest job. 

At times I feel like I am wasting my time arguing with my tween daughter just because I want her to perform better in her studies.

I feel sick of dealing with my son’s tantrums. 

Parenting is also the most stressful job, I forgot to add that.

I was told by well-meaning relatives that a mother has the right to feel frustrated at times. But little did I know (before my husband and I decided to have two kids) that parenting is mind-numbing, mundane and boring. It feels like you are living someone else’s life and not yours.

I mean, parents are humans too. Parents would like to live their lives too. Just because one has had kids doesn’t mean it is the end of the road for one’s personal wishes, desires, dreams and most importantly, their freedom.

Freedom does get curtailed quite a lot after becoming a parent. 

Well, especially for parents like us who have no help. 

Yes, my husband and I have to just rely on each other. It can very hard when you are desperately looking for a break from doing things for kids all the time.

One thing that has reduced the stress from this monotonous job was that I decided to put my kids into a routine from a very young age (3 months of age). A stroke of luck or intuition.  

I was led to believe, by another set of well-meaning relatives that as a parent, I am too strict. Yes, because I put my babies into a routine.

I was told that I am like a timetable! I have too many rules with the kids.

I know at times I do go overboard with my rules. Sometimes, one rule contradicts another and creates confusion.

But hey, I am trying my best here without much help. My hubby works full time so help is available from him only in the evenings and weekends. 

It is okay if I make mistakes at times. I know I am not a perfect parent.

But I know for sure that I am doing my best. 

Sometimes, my kitchen is messy. Sometimes my laundry basket is overflowing. At times, I even postpone cleaning as I am so tired or I have just haven’t had the chance.

But I know I am doing my best.

At times, I yell at my kids without a reason. But there are times, I follow all the parenting tips that I preach to the T.

But I know I am doing my best. 

At times, I cry on my husband’s shoulder because I am so bored and frustrated with being a mother even if the kids haven’t misbehaved the entire day.

But I know I am doing my best.

I know I love my children and it is okay for me to feel frustrated at times.

There are times when I feel like the most privileged person in the universe when people praise my kids for being so well mannered. 

Sometimes, I just feel privileged for doing things for them.

Sometimes, I feel privileged when I watch them playing together. At times, I feel so touched by their innocent questions. 

And sometimes I just melt when they hug and kiss me. 

These far and few good moments are what give me the strength to get through the tougher moments of parenting. 

But I know deep inside my heart that I cannot imagine my life without my kids. 

Parenting is a tough journey but worth it in the end. 

 

 

 

 

Priya is a Freelance Writer for hire. She has a Parenting Blog. She has also written an E-book Painless Parenting where she shares tips that can make the difficult journey of parenting easier.  She is a regular mum from London who loves spending time with her kids and eating chocolates.

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My Top 3 OMG Parenting Moments

By Sara Orris

Parenting is hard. If I had to go back and tell my pre-parent self anything about parenting it would be that it is so freaking hard. It’s also incredibly gross and unbelievably exhausting. I’ve been a parent for over 17 years and I’ve definitely had my share of “OMG did that really just happen?” parenting moments.

Here are my top three:

1. The time my entire family had a stomach virus.
One winter my oldest daughter (who was about 18 months old) started vomiting. I’ve been through several stages of parenting and the worst time to have a child vomit is when she’s a toddler. They always cry, vomit right where they may be standing, and get it all over every piece of clothing and strand of hair they may have, every time. By day two, my husband had begun to vomit as well. This of course sent him straight to bed moaning that he was going to die. I, of course, kept managing our little one, trying to keep her fever down as well as any fluids.

On day three I began get sick. I was violently ill and I had a very sick toddler. She would vomit, I would vomit right along with her and then I would clean it all up. By day four I decided that she needed to be seen by a doctor. It was Sunday so I was told to take her to the ER at our local children’s hospital. My husband was functional by this point and he drove us. My poor little baby was so hot with fever and so limp from dehydration I barely acknowledged my own sickness at this point. They took one look at her and pulled her into triage to give her an IV and get the fluids going. After what seemed like hours, our pediatrician found us. After checking on my improving baby she took a hard look at me. “Have you talked to your OB this week?” Um, no. Why?. “Well, you’re pregnant, have a fever, and I doubt you’ve eaten or drank much of anything for a few days.” Oh yeah, I thought. I’m pregnant. I truly and honestly had forgotten.

2. The time we got “The Lice.”
Yes, a case of lice is as awful as you can imagine. Yep, I never thought it could happen to me. I have three daughters with long hair. Enough said, right? After several weeks of constant laundry, combing, and crying I finally admitted defeat to the little jerks and dragged us all into one of those places that looks like a hair salon but is actually filled with lovely people picking dozens of bugs and eggs out of children’s hair at the cost of hundreds of dollars. It’s worth every cent. Take away? Hugs spread bugs (and little girls LOVE to hug each other). Also, keep your kids a little dirty because lice LOVE clean hair. It’s been several years and I still don’t have the emotional strength to rehash any more of this particular saga. Maybe someday…once the involuntary shivers at the sight of anything brown on my kids’ scalps stop.

3. The time my daughter threw up chicken nuggets in the car 30 minutes into a five-hour drive.
One weekend, my family decided to head to Washington, DC for a long weekend. We decided to leave Friday night hoping the kids would sleep for most of the trip. After my husband got home from work we packed the car, put the kids in pajamas, grabbed fast food for dinner, and got on the road. It quickly got dark as the kids happily munched on their dinners. Then we hit a part of the highway that winds around extreme curves. Now imagine my children in the back of my car, in the pitch dark (no lights on this highway) as the car rocks back and forth on these curves. Disaster. My youngest daughter quietly said, “Mommy…I don’t feel well” before enacting a scene from the exorcist all over herself, her beloved Elmo doll, her carseat, and the floor around her carseat.

My husband took the nearest exit which happened to be a rest area. I then spent the next twenty minutes cleaning up my kid, her items, and her entire side of the car with the very few napkins we happened to find in the glove compartment because this rest area was “green” and there was not one freaking paper towel or napkin in the entire place. Not one. I ended up washing Elmo off in the sink and then dried him under the hand dryer. I did the same with my daughter’s clothes since the back of the car was packed so tightly I couldn’t get to the suitcase with her spare clothes in it. I dumped her back into her carseat and we got back on the road. Oh…the smell. With every mile we traveled that night the smell of the vomit seemed to get stronger. Since it was February, opening the windows for any length of time froze us solid. My older kids gagged and whined. The baby slept soundly. We finally arrived at our hotel around midnight and neither my husband nor I wanted to even think about dealing with the residual vomit in the car. I’ll let you imagine what we faced (and smelled) in our car come morning. Our first stop on our lovely weekend away was a local grocery store to purchase Lysol wipes and air freshener. I also had to hunt down the hotel’s laundry room to deal with her vomit encrusted coat.

So there you have it. Parenting is messy, exhausting, and filled with unexpected mishaps. I’ve realized that finding a way to laugh through some of it is the best way to manage. In the end I think I’m stronger for it (at least my stomach is) and they are most definitely worth it.

 

I am a certified speech-language pathologist working with teenagers by day, a mother to three daughters (two teenagers and one almost teen) day and night, and a writer sharing my thoughts, fears, wishes, and experiences any spare moment I can find. I love my children, my husband, and the ocean. 

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This Mom Struggled to Find a Book That Showed a Kid Like Hers. So She Wrote It Herself.

by Amber Guetebier

Adiba Nelson doesn’t exactly sit back and watch the world go by. She’s a woman of action. When she was looking for books to read to her daughter, she could not find a single book that showed a black child with disabilities. “They were either animals, or they looked nothing like her,” Adiba says.

So she wrote the book herself.

Meet ClaraBelle Blue is Adiba Nelson’s picture book (illustrated by Elvira Morando) and not only is it an important book for her personally, but it is also a vital contribution to children’s books, period.

Why? Because, as Ms. Nelson puts it, “Children need to see themselves in the world to feel their own value.” And having a book like this on your shelf, whether you are the parent of a child with special needs or not, also aims to help kids understand that a child who may look different, act different, have special needs, or be from a different place is still a kid.

“This is ClaraBelle Blue, and she’s just like YOU!”

 

The message of this book reminds children and their parents that a ClaraBelle is in a wheelchair, and sometimes uses braces on her legs or a walker, but she also loves to laugh, and be tickled, and she has to brush her teeth and get tucked into bed—just like all kids.

Based loosely on her own daughter, Emory, who is a child with special needs, Ms. Nelson decided to write and self-publish the book when she found many agents rejecting it for being too “narrow.”

SMeet ClaraBelle Blue exists because Ms. Nelson felt that “children cannot wait for the world to be ready to see them.”

We couldn’t agree more. This is a beautiful book that belongs on any child’s shelf and would make a wonderful gift for a school or local library.

 

If you are interested in buying the book, or booking Adiba Nelson for an in-school or library reading or discussion about inclusion in children’s work, check out clarabelleblue.com to learn more.

Adiba Nelson is the author of Meet Clarabelle Blue and the forthcoming book, Ain’t That a Mother. You can learn more about the force that is Adiba at her website thefullnelson.com

All photos courtesy Adiba Nelson.

—Amber Guetebier

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These Trolls Succulents Are Gardening Goals

by Karly Wood

It’s no secret that people love succulents but when you combine them with whimsical trolls, magic happens! Small business owner of The Drunken Witch Co., Chyenne Rotsch has been collecting old school trolls for years, crafting them into works of art. When she shared her creation on Facebook, it received over 51,000 shares!

Rotsch tells Red Tricycle, “I randomly started buying second hand trolls from thrift and antique stores and wanted to create something different with them. My mom has a huge garden of succulents, so I decided to try some making some as planters with clippings of her plants to sell and they instantly became a hit.”

Rotsch shares just how she creates these one-of-kind treasures by “cleaning and removing their hair. This can be quite the process as vintage adhesive has a strong bond.” Then she drills a hole in their feet for drainage, adds a few pebbles, fills with coconut fiber soil and then a succulent clipping. For extra stability, you can also add a few pebbles on top.

“I think they are just so fun and bring back sweet memories of my childhood all while combining my passion for succulents and plants,” says Rotsch.

Rotsch isn’t currently selling her creations on her Etsy shop, but you can follow her instructions above to make your own. You can also shop The Drunken Witch Co. and pickup a few crystal trolls!

––Karly Wood

 

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Here’s How to Get a 2.5 Pound Box of Reese’s Fresh from the Factory

by Erica Loop

Forget about stale candy that’s sat on a store shelf for months. Now you can get Reese’s iconic peanut butter cups straight from the factory—and they come in a two-and-a-half pound pack! This means you can score super-fresh peanut butter and chocolate goodies galore.

Reese’s originally released its Direct from the Factory pack in October of 2020. The popular over-sized peanut butter and chocolate-y pick went over so well that the brand decided to bring back the box.

Photo: The Hershey Store

How can you order your very own box of peanut butter cups? The Reese’s Direct from the Factory 2.5 pound box is available right now for pre-order online from the Hershey’s Store. The multi-pound pack retails for $29.99.

Don’t wait to nab a Direct from the Factory box. According to the Hershey’s Store website, the packs are only available for a limited and time and are sure to sell out quickly. Orders are shipped when they become available in late March. Customers who order additional items along with the Direct from the Factory box should place each one separately. That is, unless you can wait a few weeks for your other Hershey’s treats.

—Erica Loop

 

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Tiny Birth Stories: Can You Relate?

by Danielle Rizzo

Our new series, Tiny Birth Stories, is aimed at sharing real-life stories from our readers to our readers. In just 100 words or less, we’re bringing you the raw, the funny and the heartwarming stories you’ve lived while bringing babies into the world. Here are five stories that will have you laughing, crying and nodding your head in solidarity. 

Interested in telling your birth story? Click here.

I gave birth to two sets of twins by Jennifer S

This still blows my mind. Both were very easy deliveries, as they were both c-sections. Round 1, I made it to 38 weeks and 2 days, my scheduled delivery was 39 weeks. My son decided he was tired of being pushed around by his sister, my water broke at 11pm on September 28, 2011and it was time to go – complete water works in the hospital parking garage, like a scene in the movies. My babies were born at 4:00 and 4:01 a.m. the next morning. Round 2 was uneventful, I made it to my scheduled c section at 38 weeks (I refused to schedule one at 39 weeks again). Babies were born and completed our family on November 13, 2013. Our current lives are much more exciting than my deliveries were!

Photo by Heidi Daniels

I felt like we were both being born by Stevie M

My birthing room in my mother’s home was adorned in hanging affirmation, candles, and pictures of the women who had gone before me. In the quiet of night, a circle of loving support, including my furry guardian, held space as baby and I labored in the tub. Working together…we were both being born. In the water, he was born into the hands of his father and exceptional midwife. Completely at peace and in awe, our new family curled around each other.

Born on her due date by Carrie D

I had very subtle contractions start at 1am Monday morning (the due date). I had a scheduled appointment that morning to see how things were going, which all looked good. I came home and worked a few more hours then by lunch I could not focus anymore. The contractions were growing in strength and I knew I didn’t want to be stuck in the hospital so I hopped in the bathtub. That was amazing! Contractions were getting stronger and by 4:30p I felt like I had to get to the hospital or I’d be having the baby at home. We arrived around 5:30p, I was 7cm dilated so was admitted. After a little waiting and some progress, it was time to push! Our sweet girl was born at 10:20pm

My parents brought me the goods by Sherry B

17 Hours, at home (on purpose), no drugs, back labor (wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy), Lots of massage by my squad. Moaning, breathing, grunting, and yelling at my hubs to turn of the XBOX. Internal dialogue “I can’t do this” the very next contraction “I am a warrior” Daughter born in a birthing tub in the living room. Nursing within 20, with family surrounding. Hardest and best thing I have EVER done. My mom cooked grilled cheese and hand fed me b/c she is the best. Then my dad brought pizza which I also ate.

A stay in the NICU by Cara S

My water broke at 2:30 am, with contractions starting at 4 minutes apart. My alcoholic fiancé was passed out so I walked the dog, watched a little tv, then went to the hospital when they were 2 minutes apart. I was told immediately no pain medication because my daughter wasn’t moving. Nine hours later, they decided an emergency csection was the way to go. I was crushed, and felt like a huge failure. But when they laid her perfect little body on mine, none of that mattered. She was here. Beckett was in NICU for 10 days, the worst 10 days of my life, but the day I brought her home, it didn’t matter how she came to be here. Just that she was.

The Guilt of Being an Older Mom of a Single Child

By Lisa Skene

I was 42 years old when I gave birth to my son.

Why 42 years old?

There are several reasons:

  • I only got married at 33 years old.
  • I had a demanding career that involved lots of travel.
  • We lived in South Africa and unfortunately, did not think it was a safe environment to raise a child.
  • We eventually emigrated to Australia, which involved finding new jobs and settling into life in a new country.

Of course, there is never a perfect time to have a baby, but there was another reason I waited so long….I am not what you would call naturally maternal.

Do not get me wrong, I love children. I dote on my nieces and nephew. When they were little, I would have them over for sleepovers, take them to the zoo and the circus. They are teenagers and young adults now, and I still enjoy spending time with them.

I just did not have this overwhelming desire to have a child.

Until I turned the big 40.

Suddenly I worried I would look back on my life and regret not having a child. I know my reason for deciding to have a child may seem almost unnatural to some people. But my reason for having a child does not make me love my son any less, and I could not imagine my life without him.

So, there I was at the age of 40 trying to get pregnant with my first baby. Understandably at my age, this was not without some heartache, and after three miscarriages we decided to turn to IVF. I consider myself extremely blessed that after only one round of IVF, I was pregnant with my son.

When my son was around 18 months old, we decided to try for a second child, as I did not want him to be an only child. One of the driving forces behind this was the fact my mom was an only child and hated it. She would recount stories from her childhood about how lonely she was and how much she disliked going on holiday with just her parents for company.

Another reason was that as we had immigrated, and we did not have any family close by. I knew my son would not grow up surrounded by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. He would not know the joy of large family gatherings and ultimately, I did not want him to be alone one day.

Unfortunately, after another miscarriage and five failed IVF attempts, I had to accept that a second baby was not going to happen.

I had to face the fact that my son was going to be an only child.

I admit it was tough.

I worried my son was going to be on his own one day with no siblings for support.

I worried he would not get to experience the joy of a sibling relationship.

I worried he would hate being an only child as my mom had done.

My husband, on the other hand, was more pragmatic. He pointed out that we had tried and told me our son would be fine. Part of me knew this was true, but it did not stop me from feeling guilty.

Not being able to give my son a sibling is the one thing I feel most guilty about. I have a close relationship with my brother and sister. Whenever I see siblings playing together, I feel that painful pang of guilt. I know my son will never experience the close bond; you can only share with a sibling.

My son is now seven years old; he has never once asked for a sibling.

In fact, he has told us many times that there is no way he wants a brother or sister because apparently, this would mean:

  • He would have to share his toys.
  • He would not get us (his Dad and me) all to himself.
  • There would be a baby in the house crying all the time.

One day I will tell my son about how he was conceived and how we tried to give him a sibling. I try to focus on the positives, my son is happy, well adjusted, exceptionally bright, and has lots of friends who regularly come for play dates at our house.  

As parents, we put way too much pressure on ourselves, we worry and feel guilty when we should not. And whilst I would not say I am entirely over all my guilt, it has eased. When I see his smile, hear his laugh or when we are dancing around the house together like crazy people, I am thankful for my little miracle.

I am married to Brandon and am the proud Mum of a beautiful son. My mission is to help busy parents navigate the critical milestones of their child’s life. Children are truly phenomenal and can achieve amazing things when given the opportunity to Play, Learn and Grow.

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Help! Save Me from My Pet Name!

By Olugbenga Ojuroye

Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but many families have different inclinations when it comes to nicknames at home. Parents call their children various names that range from the cute and funny to the ridiculously weird. And I think it’s okay. Parents have dibs on their children’s names and whatever they choose to christen them sticks for a very long time, at least until they start revolting.

Husbands and wives also have pet names for one another. Often, names they call each other could even be used to interpret the partner’s mood.

Honey

Boo

Bae

Babe

Those are good signs that everything is fair in the relationship. Sometimes, it’s a good sign that maybe there could be some action in a full moon. But when she starts using your first and last name in a single sentence and starts to sound like your mum? Then you know there’s trouble.

But, hey, the dynamic is expected. It’s predictable and traditional. There’s a minimal amount of pet names children can call their parents. For the most part, we have Daddy, Papa (Baba), Pops, Dad, and by his first name when the parent is a new step parent trying to gain the partner’s children’s endearment—at least that’s what I see in the movies. Then for the mothers, we have Mum, Mommy and Mama. There’s just some unspoken rule that the names don’t go beyond these.

But what happens when children start to break the rules? What happens when children begin calling parents Honey, Boo and…Babe. Yes, Babe! That’s my predicament and there seems to be no way around it. Let me give you some background, so you’ll understand why I feel it’s weird.

An Introduction to African Naming

It takes several years in the typical African family before children find out their parent’s real names. If you ever did find out their names, it was probably on some loose documents. I found out my parents’ names from their wedding invitation card I found lying among some old papers. I think I was around 11 years old at the time.

Here’s how it goes down in Yoruba Culture in Nigeria. From the moment you get married and start having kids, your entire identity centers around either the name of your first child or where you live. So, my elder brother’s name is Ayo. To every family member, especially the second generation, my parents were no longer Olufemi and Olaitan but were now called Daddy Ayo and Mummy Ayo respectively.

And that was the same for all my aunts and uncles. I never knew their first names. It was Mummy Ikeja, Mummy Ikorodu, Mummy Isolo, Daddy Moyo instead of their first names. I remember when I heard one of the elder cousins referring to my aunt, whom I had known for years as Mummy Temidayo by a different name. I was like, “Whoa, is that her first name?” So I thought, hey, Aunty Bose sounds way cooler than Mummy Temidayo, at least, it was less of a mouth full.

I received the lecture of a lifetime the day I tried calling her Aunty Bose. That’s when I knew there were rules behind the names and that the ruling nomenclature wasn’t by default. Then I knew that it was either Mummy Temidayo or Mummy Ikeja (Ikeja is where she lived). The only exception to this rule was when you knew the aunt or uncle before they married or started having children. Of course, in that case, the aunt or uncle didn’t have a child to steal their identity. Now let’s get into the bizarre stuff.

My Christening & the Pet Name that Won’t Go Away

My wife and my brother’s wife are quite close. For some reason, they both decided to call my elder brother and me the same pet name: Babe. My wife had decided earlier before we started having children that we weren’t going to follow tradition. That meant no changing our identities to prefixes of our first child’s name and no naming ourselves after a location. But with the use of a pet name, our children won’t still know our first names, which was cool.

It started with “Babe” to my wife and “Daddy” to my daughter. That seemed like a relatively simple and logical arrangement that didn’t seem to stray too far from tradition. But now it seemed the tables have turned and tradition has flipped on its head.

Now, I’ve become Babe to everyone! My daughter calls me Babe like it’s my first name.

“Babe! I need a snack!”

“Babe! Please, I’m hungry!”

I hear my brother is facing the same thing too. His son calls him Babe!

So do I sit her down and give her the same lecture I received years ago? Will being strict about what she calls me cause a strain in our relationship?

Well, she’s just six anyway. She’ll probably outgrow it, right?

Olugbenga is a Professional Writer focusing on Spirituality and Motivation. He writes actively on Medium Publications. He runs cloakoffire.com, where he writes on spirituality and olugbengawrites.com to offer professional writing services. When he is not writing, he plays house with his wife and two daughters, who all call him Babe.

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