Paranoias

My husband, who shall hence forth be referred to as MegaKlop - trust me, don’t ask - will tell you that I have many paranoias.  The most hilarious one is that of my alarm clock.  Firstly, my alarm clock must always be set to an odd numbered time like 5:39 am (its current setting).  And, secondly, I will check it about 18 times to make sure it is set properly before finally going to sleep.  I don’t know what I do this.  No scratch that - yes I do.  When I studied abroad in Germany, the first day we were there I set my spanking new travel alarm clock and must have missed the section on am vs. pm.  Thankfully, after many trips to Europe to visit my family, I never got much jetlag and woke up about 15 minutes before my group was supposed to meet for our first tour of our new, albeit temporary home.  I have never moved my ass so fast in my life to get ready to be somewhere.  And, yes, I did actually make it.  But, somehow, looking back, I feel that I did this clock checking routine before that particular incident.  I tend to think it is because of my chronically late mother.  Because of her, I abhor lateness and refuse to be late, even now with getting 2 kids out of the house.  Needless to say, as of late, I don’t even bother setting my alarm.  CheezWaster and The Sleep Deprivator have both been sick and inevitably even when they aren’t, I fall asleep in the chair while feeding The Sleep Deprivator.  On the days I work, MegaKlop comes down every morning and wakes me up, sometimes even asking if I want to shower first (much to his dismay my recent answers have all been no!)  Now, while I don’t really miss my alarm clock checking ritual or my 1988 alarm clock itself (takes a lickin and keeps on kickin!), I fear my paranoia will only resurface once the kiddies get this sleep thing down.  Until then, it is MegaKlop to the morning rescue (thanks, honey!)

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Forced Insomnia

First, I’ve debated on what name should be bestowed upon my little one.  CheezWaster has already earned his spot in the hall of fame.  I tossed around Snuggler, Sir Chubs-a-lot - even though he is coming out of his sausage stage.  Bu,t after much debate (and but a few nights with decent sleep), I’m back to The Sleep Deprivator!  The Sleep Deprivator is 7 months old - weighs an appropriate amount for such age and STILL does NOT sleep through the night.  It is killing me - literally!  CheezWaster is sick (with the I’m clingy, need and only want my mommy syndrome (and a bit of the croup)), so I’ve been up quite a bit the past few days, but last night was just ridiculous.  CheezWaster took almost 2 hours (and 16 stories later) to go to bed and just as I was about to settle into bed, The Sleep Deprivator awoke - the first of many times, I was forced to schlep out of bed in a zombie like state.  Now, since I only work part-time and my husband (whose “name” shall be forthcoming) is slave-driven by his job, I try not to ask him to get out of bed too much.  However, last night, I must admit that I cried myself to sleep in the chair (I don’t think I’ve slept more than an hour horizontally in 2 weeks) due to lack of sleep and pure forced insomnia.  Work today should be fun!

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Vanished!

Today, I was at a picnic in a large park and a child disappeared.  Thankfully, the child was found rather quickly and unharmed, but the police were still notified in the first few moments of panic.  Having 2 kids, this is one of the MANY fears that keep me up at night.  A few months back, in this same park, I had 2 altercations with a crazy fisherman and one incident with a weirdo old lady (needless to say I haven’t been back since).  The crazy fisherman was screaming obscenities at me and plotting my death for feeding the ducks next to a clearly (yet newly) posted sign that asked the public not to feed the ducks.  Now, I must admit that in this case I was wrong (mark your calendars folks,  you might not see that one again for some time).  However, CheezWaster and I have fed the ducks in this park for nearly 2 years now and frankly, I don’t see the harm in feeding the ducks and in fact, the main reason for this sign going up was to combat duck shit.  So - I should have to give up fun with my son, who by the way now thinks that all bread is intended for duck feeding, because the general public is too lazy to step over some duck shit?  I think not (not to mention there is no fine info posted on the sign, so I’ll take my chances!).  And the weird old lady, that was a bit more frightening.  I was in the play area of this park when my son befriended a sightly older boy.  He was chatting up this old lady who I assumed was his grandmother.  Well, a few minutes later I chat up his babysitter (who I assumed was his mother).  In conversation, I come to find out this old woman is, in fact, not his grandmother but a stranger.  Now 1) the babysitter proceeds to ream the kid a new one.  Tone of voice - uncalled for.  actual comments - very serious and necessary. 2) this old lady mentioned in conversation how she liked to come to the park and feed the ducks with the kids.  I proceed to observe her troll over to any kid who was willing to pay her some attention.  Now, I never actually saw her leave the play area with any children, but boy did this scare the crap out of me.  I see how many parents are distracted in the park, mostly due to their own fault, but nonetheless. A quick phone call, a commiserating chat with another mother - In mere seconds and the blink of an eye, anything can happen. So to make a long post longer and not to sound too pessimistic but rather realistic - I urge you to 1) be aware of your surroundings and the people in them 2) never take your eyes off your kids and 3) be prepared for the worst.

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What's in a Name?

I know someone out there in internetland is thinking what the hell kind of name is mamamamahoney.  Or maybe no one gives a crap about my little blog, but since it is my son’s term of endearment for me, I thought I’d explain.  My oldest son, who shall from this point on  be affectionately known as “CheezWaster” (bet you are wondering about that one!) will call me a hundred times before I answer him.  My husband gets about 3 Daddys before he moves back to Mama or Mommy.  Well, after hearing my husband call me honey enough, he figured out that I’m more likely to respond to him after a few mamas if he throws in a honey.  He now goes with 2 mamas and a honey and I’m sold! Not to mention that it describes my lot in life perfectly - I’m two times a lady mom and once a honey! And there you have it (for anyone who cares!)

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All Beginnings are Hard

In German there is a saying “Alle Anfaenge sind schwer” - “All Beginnings Are Hard” - please bare with me as I start up my new blog and thanks for visiting!

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