Category Archives: Life with 2 kids

The Dream Crusher

Today I am re-posting one of my fav posts from 2012 because,  well, it’s still very relevant chez WM. With that, I bring you, life with an older sibling, from the perspective of the little one, see if it rings true in your house too:

“Mommy!! Mommy!! LOOK LOOOK LOOOOOOOOK!!!!” shouts my 3.5 year old. “IT IS BATMAN!!!!!! BATMAN!! I can’t wait to see it!” she exclaims, jumping out of her skin, dancing in front of the new Batman movie poster earlier this summer.

Before I had a chance to even answer, her older sister helpfully responds with this: “You are too little to see that movie. And when you are big enough to see that movie, it won’t be in the theater anymore. So you will never get to see it.”

A 6-year-old will catch your dreams and then crush them.

Ahh…welcome DREAM CRUSHER…glad for you to join our family.

I’ve noticed this pattern of behavior repeatedly through the year since she was months shy of her sixth birthday.

A more benign example than the soul crushing, reality biting, mean-spirited dead pan response to her little sister’s naive enthusiasm for a violent and age-inappropriate movie, would be taking them to any kind of show or production.  Classic example being Disney on Ice.

Cue to the three-year-old exclaiming “Look! I see Mickey Mouse! I see the Lion King!! Mommy, do you see them!”

“They aren’t real, they are just pretend, you know that, right,” helpfully points out the Dream Crusher.

My favorite is when the younger one fights back in a defiant toddler voice, accurately emphasizing the right words “They ARE real. I see them RIGHT THERE!”

Most recently, last week we enjoyed a week of vacation in the Outer Banks. Our favorite day was a trip to Ocracoke Island, a 40 minute ferry ride from the tip of Hatteras Island. While exploring the beautiful island, we learned it is where the infamous pirate Blackbeard was killed in the 1800s. My little one dedicated an entire year of her life to being a pirate, or rather, 33% of her entire lifespan included dressing in pirate gear. That is hardcore. The only thing I am certain I’ve dedicated 33% of my life too, well frankly more, is eating and sleeping.

She moved out of the phase slowly this spring, in exchange for a love of superheros. But learning we were near the site of where Blackbeard roamed only reignited her passion for pirates and she was soon on the hunt for his ghost. And demanding her pirate gear and telescope.


Enter Dream Crusher.

“You aren’t going to find his ghost. You aren’t going to find anything about Blackbeard. You know why? Because when he was killed, they used his head as a punch bowl.  I learned that in summer camp.”


Apparently even on vacation, the dream crusher never rests.

Tell me you have a dream crusher living in your home, sharing the same roof with a little believer? Some days I love it because being #2 in the line up of 4 sisters, I have a profound respect for the role of the older sibling in keeping the younger sibling in place. It is an age-old necessity that shapes character. But sometimes, sometimes, it would be nice for the dream crusher to go on sabbatical.

“Like” the Wired Momma Facebook page so I can crush your dreams.


From Cliches…to Kindergarten….to Cribless…

For everyone with a rising Kindergartener, this post, now two years old, is for you. But wait – everyone else – it’s also for you.  Turns out, for me at least, shedding a few tears behind my sunglasses when they board that bus the first day didn’t end after Kindergarten, here we go again as she heads off to 2nd grade.


“They grow up so fast!” – does it not seem that everyone preaches this to you when you are a bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived, hormonal, chubby, cranky new mom?

What does that mean, I used to wonder. I would stare at my baby wrapped like a burrito and swear with each passing minute that I would never again sleep uninterrupted. I wouldn’t shower with ease. I wouldn’t know what an impromptu night out on the town would mean. I would be trapped by this small cute blob that basically always needed something but didn’t give much back.

“Oh, she’s so adorable. Enjoy it now! It doesn’t last…”

I know, I know, I would snark in my head thinking of cruel things to bark back at this well-intentioned stranger….I  know….they grow up so fast. They all do except  mine, who won’t sleep and really fusses at inconvenient times.

I hated that cliché. I hated it as much as I hated “Sleep when the baby sleeps”

You know why I hated that one? Because I TRIED but she didn’t sleep LONG ENOUGH….where could I get the kid who slept when mommy slept? Why didn’t someone put that one on the menu? Aren’t they supposed to obey and respect their mother’s wishes?

But then came Monday. When my sweet smiling baby went from this:

Will she really ever grow up?

to this:

I never agreed to this happening so fast

In the blink of an eye.

I swear it was like someone pressed the fast-forward button times 5 and there went my sweet tramadol girl, proudly wearing the fall 2011 kindergarten accessory, the pinned on name tag identifying her name, her teacher and the color of her bus. With barely a glance back, she boarded that school bus and was off.

I totally cried behind my sunglasses, cursing that stupid cliché for being as right as it is annoying.  And then what did I do? It was like I was out to torture myself on Monday. I should have just gotten out a knife and taken up cutting.

On Saturday, pre-over-hyped (though we did lose our power) Irene, we went out and purchased a full size bed for our 2.5 year-old. I noticed her in the crib last week and realized how ridiculous it was that she was still being imprisoned. So big girl bed delivery was scheduled for Tuesday.  So what made more sense than to head to Babies’R’Us on Monday and purchase a side rail for the big girl bed.

Does that make sense to you? If it does, then you probably haven’t been in that store in a few years, like I hadn’t.

Immediately after crossing the threshold, I was drowned and suffocated by sweet baby smell, small cute baby onesies, little tiny size N diapers, cute little Halloween costumes….and there I was to purchase something to render my  home cribless…..a mere 24 hours after my oldest started Kindergarten…..the extra small baby things were mocking me. They were cooing and giggling and smelling good….

Could I get pregnant just standing there, I wondered? How could I not realize that going from Kindergarten to Cribless in the same week is just too much for a gal to take? What will the nursery look like without the beaver-chewed up sides of the wooden crib anchoring the room?

How did this happen?

(Friends…don’t forget to “Like” Wired Momma on FB to keep up with my rants and raves…I usually am not so emotional!)

Wanna join Mothers Against Daylight Savings?

Feel anxious and angry on the eve of one night every year (and no, I’m not talking about your birthday)? Wondering why in the world we have daylight savings?

Then come join MADs – Mothers Against Daylight Savings – membership is free, benefits include shared feelings of anger, rage, exhaustion and a community feeling against farmers, or whomever it is that forces us to roll the time back one precious hour every year. My friend Keeley and I originally founded this group back when we each had only one child and though we feel Parents Against Daylight Savings is more aptly named, it seemed no one would want to join anything called PADs. Are we right?

In fact, all 35 of the faithful and loyal readers of my original Wired Momma blog recall the initial MADs posting back in November 2oo7. Look, the ominous they claim time heals all wounds. Does time really heal this one? Is there really hope? Is there any day that is more anti-mom than daylight savings (mother’s day, perhaps?)? Some might claim there are many days but I declare none more painful than the first day of daylight savings.

Let’s review the first rule of MADs Fight Club: Back in ’07 I rightly kicked you off my blog and ended our friendship if you still think daylight savings means “one extra hour of sleep.”

Who are these people? Should we pillage and burn things outside their homes next year on daylight savings? We could all agree to meet at say, oh 4:45am, right? Cause that’s when most people’s day starts when they’re getting “one extra hour of sleep”. Bite me, whoever you are.

On the eve of daylight savings, we all share in the ill-feelings towards those bastards for whom tomorrow actually means extra sleep.  And for the other parents with kids who are early risers, you might also be wondering – do we dare warn the children that it might take longer to reach – oh – 7am – than they are used too? Or just let them suck it up and wonder why the light has arrived but their designated awake time hasn’t.

As the president and co-founding member of MADs, I remind you that you are not alone tomorrow. You won’t be alone when you are cleaning out the fridge or putting away summer clothes by 8am. Not to mention the added misery that it seems to take these children weeks to adjust to the new time. Why is that?

Please  join MADs, membership is free and the rewards are priceless.

My House. It Doesn’t Rise Up to Greet Me Pleasantly.

I love creating my own Someecards. Photo Credit: Someecards

Oprah says your  home should rise up to greet you.

Maybe my first problem is I don’t know what that means.

Or maybe I don’t especially love what my home says when it greets me.

Or maybe my  problem is I have children.

And what is it that my home should say, when it rises up to greet me? Should it say “Look, mommy, there’s a mouse-hole in the shower!” as my daughter did the other day, when she was pointing to what was actually some mold in the corner of the shower….our cleaning lady kept cancelling on me and I ran out of Clorox to get rid of that bad boy……

So is that what Oprah means about our homes rising up to greet us?

Is it me or is it next to impossible to not have total chaos in the home? Particularly during summer?? And it’s not just children here. Children are rivaled only by the husband.   I know I’m not the only one who finds work socks on the dining room table, for example. And hammers on low window ledges that 19 month olds with gumby arms can reach easily.

I’ve been known to take a collection of dirty, sweaty socks improperly strewn throughout my home and carefully put them between two pillows in bed….the pillows used by Mr. Wired Momma. Unfortunately this does not phase him.

My favorite story on this topic came from my workout instructor, mom to three kids. One fall day, her back door wasn’t shut properly and blew open when she was taking the kids to school and running errands. The alarm went off, the police arrived to the house before she did and said “Ma’am, it looks like this place has been ransacked.”

Sounds about right.

So Oprah’s home might rise up to greet her quite differently than mine. Mine rises up and says “Do others raise children who know discarded food belongs in the trash, not the floor.”

And maybe Stedman puts his socks in the laundry basket.

“Like” Wired Momma on Facebook so we can trash Oprah and talk more about what our homes would actually say if they could greet us.