Urban Suburban Mommy

Tag Archives: mommy

The many voices of Mommy

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I expected a lot of physical changes when I became a mom. For the most part, I wasn’t disappointed; everything that was once stationary went south for the winter, the travel luggage under my eyes is now a matching set, and I’ve generally modified my personal style and hygiene so as not to alarm anyone.

One thing I did not anticipate was my voice changing. Not that awkward change. Nothing has descended, there’s no extra hair anywhere (save the lone wiry hairs now sprouting from my post-menopausal face). But it has adjusted in both timber and tone in order to accommodate the parenting scenario.

For example:

1. Normal Mommy: Everything is status quo; I’ve had my coffee, the kids are dressed and ready for school, everyone is fed, and the eldest child is being particularly clever and/or witty. It’s a sing-songy lilt, cheerful and vibrant. Woodland animals perch on our balcony to hear me use this voice. I use this voice 1% of the time.

2. FBI Mommy: This is fact-finding, investigative reporting mommy. It’s all business; not “loud” but definitely “assertive”. We need to get out the door. Where are your shoes? What do you want to eat for dinner? I put the emphasis on the last word because the men in my house function on brevity – we’re a bullet-point family. Use too many words and you’ll see eyes glaze over.

3. Clenched Mommy: By the time I’ve used this voice, something has gone sideways. Perhaps the eldest has refused my five thousandth request to get in the car or the thirty thousandth request to wash his hands after he pees. When I speak through clenched teeth, consider it a warning shot across the bow. The people I live with know they have roughly 30 seconds to autocorrect. During this time, other muscle groups may or may not be clenched.

4. Bellowing Mommy: I’ve had years of theatre training and voice work. As a result, I’ve developed a bellow that comes not from the diaphragm, but from the darkest recesses of my soul. The approximate volume is roughly a hybrid of foghorn and T-Rex; it breaks the sound barrier. I reserve this voice for imminent danger. We were at Centre Island one summer, and a much younger Nathan took off running towards the road – with a truck belching across his path. I let out a “STOP” – Nate stopped, as did the other 50 or so parents around us. I think the truck stopped too. And the birds. Bellowing mommy is for emergencies only.

5. Savage Mommy: I won’t bore you with this one. We all have this voice. Roughly the pitch of sonar, “savage” only occurs past the point of no control. I hate Savage Mommy, I avoid her at all costs. Most of the time, I’ll just remove myself from the situation and cry in the bathroom until it passes.

If emotional temperature can be indicated by tone of voice, I feel like I’m always running a fever. I try to stay in Normal Mommy mode as much as possible. Totally doable with two young boys, right? So how do you keep yourself even-keeled? What’s your Mommy voice?

10 parenting pet peeves

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

We are surprised that we could only come up with 10! Yes we have a ton of parenting pet peeves and as time passes and as we gain more experience as moms – each of us with two boys – the list sadly grows. Don’t get us wrong – we both adore being a parent, but there are just certain things that we just can’t stand. Continue reading →

Parenting solo for one day: A timeline

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

There are typically two of us on the weekend, but when my husband has a big work event, his evenings and weekends get slammed. The following is a timeline of one day of parenting alone. I don’t know how how single parents do this.

Respect.

  • 8:30 a.m. – Daddy leaves to go to work
  • 9:30 – We spend the morning with family, enjoying the great outdoors and watching people make maple syrup. Nate eats his body weight in maple sugar candy, but I’m not worried. What can go wrong?
  • 11:00 – We get home. Nate has pushed the car all the way home while shrieking like an ambulance. That first part is mostly untrue.
  • 12:00 p.m. – Nate wants lunch. I make the lunch. Nate does not recall ever asking for lunch and would never EVER eat anything I make and refuses to touch it. At least he doesn’t throw it.
  • 1:20 – I suggest we go to the park.
  • 1:22 – I smell something.
  • 1:40 – After changing the baby (aka Poomicus Colossus), we pack up and 30 minutes later are on our way.
  • 2:20 – At the park, some older kids start laughing at Nate when he tries to initiate a game of “Good Guys/Bad Guys”. It’s a struggle not to interfere
    a) because he doesn’t know they’re laughing at him and
    b) apparently it’s considered bad parenting to fight all of your child’s battles for him. Pfft.
  • 2:30 – I will not step on their necks, I will not crush them like bugs, I will let my son figure it out.
  • 2:32 – Consider writing my own parenting book called “Mess With My Son And I’ll Come At You Like A Cracked-Out Howler Monkey.” I would buy that book.
  • 2:35 – Good news: no tears, no fights and he found another kid to play with. Crisis averted.
  • 4:30 – Home again. Nate wants to do arts and crafts. I set the dining room table up with every conceivable craft accoutrement imaginable. He writes the numbers “1” and “0” over and over again on a piece of paper. I wonder briefly if he’s writing binary code for “my mom is phoning it in today. Send backup.”
  • 4:35 – Nate is done with arts and crafts. He spends the next 15 minutes helping me make toast. It should be noted that no one actually wants to eat toast. He just enjoys putting bread in the toaster and pressing the lever down.
  • 5:30 – Dinner. Nate eats a cream cheese bagel and I make macaroni with tuna for me and the baby. He eats none of the macaroni, but has a lot of fun decorating the floor. I get one lukewarm mouthful and eat the rest off his chin. Surprisingly, no one wants fruit.
  • 6:15 – Nate wants to watch cartoons on my phone, even though his favourite show is on TV. Ben’s running around with a bowl on his head and eating a FreshCo receipt. I take this opportunity to drink my last glass of wine. It was left uncorked and I detect notes of both fruit and stale vinegar. I give zero poops.
  • 6:16 – We’ve officially gone feral.
  • 7:00 – I go to the washroom by myself, lock the door and spend 10 blissful minutes alone.
  • 7:00 – None of that happened. I peed with the door wide open, the baby in the bathtub and Nathan on the stool, asking me why I don’t have a penis.
  • 7:45 – Bedtime. Nate sleeps in my bed and the baby wakes up 14 times before I give up and bring him into the bed with us, where he proceeds to nurse happily for the rest of the night. Everyone sleeps.
  • 8:30 – Daddy comes home, wakes me up and tells me how exhausted he is.