Nerd mom

The names and locations have been changed to protect the innocent. Meaning me.

[nerdmomblogs-blog]

So I just realized...

I just realized that I have not posted in a very long time! Not that I have any religious followers but still I know that some people follow me and hopefully find my shenanigans entertaining. Luckily nothing too crazy has been happening. The biggest thing has been the BM actually wished me a happy mother's day (which was impressive in itself) and said she was glad to coparent with me. I was rendered speechless. That's actually about it. This will probably turn into more ranting about my mother-in-law because she's the one being detrimental to Harley's wellbeing at the moment. But that will come later. As of right now, I'm actually going to be vlogging now as well. That video will be up next.

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I might have gone a little crazy

One of the biggest things I’ve been trying to instill in Harley is a sense of empowerment. I want her to grow up with a sense of worth and the knowledge that she is strong enough to handle herself and her own needs. I want her to feel strong and brave enough to know that she doesn’t need taken care of. That’s how my mother raised me. I don’t need coddled. I don’t need pampered. I don’t need taken care of. I’m a strong independent woman. And I’m doing everything I can to help raise Harley with the same mindset.   But this has proven quite difficult. Not because Harley is stubborn (which she is) and not because I don’t know what I’m doing (which I don’t.) It’s not because her father has raised her to be a princess (which he has.) It’s the rest of the influences in her life.   You see, Ben and I both work nights. Which has proven to be quite an issue with raising our spawn. Mostly because we really only get to spend about 20 minutes a day with her and then we’re off to work. We see her for a little bit in the morning when we take her to school, and then again for a little bit when we pick her up and take her to her grandparents, where she spend most of her time. With her old fashioned, dramatic, relatively useless grandmother. Now, before I continue, I’m going to point out that I absolutely adore her grandparents. They are both wonderful, beautiful, selfless people who have given up so much for this little girl and I am eternally grateful to them for their sacrifice. But, if I’m being completely honest, they don’t want to raise another child. They want to be grandparents. And, due to work and daddy failing as a father for the first few years, that’s what happened. They made a granddaughter. A spoiled, bratty, ditsy little granddaughter who gets everything she wants with her grandparents. Which, as the mother, is incredibly annoying. But, this was the hand I was given and chose to take, so it’s all good.   And that’s just her grandparents. BM doesn’t help much in this sense, either. This weekend, she insisted Harley take “lady lessons” where she was to learn how to properly set the table, proper table manners, how to dress, how to speak, all the jazz. And, while I have nothing against Harley learning how to be proper, the part that bothers me is the constant implication of her “being able to find a husband.” I won’t go into much detail here, because I have no solid evidence that this is what goes on over there. But this is the vibe I get which is enough to irritate me.   I’ve determined that explaining feminism to a 9 year old is incredibly difficult, partly because she has been raised in an environment where men had certain roles, women had others, and the man was in charge. So, when she told me she felt bad for daddy after Christmas because he had to put all of her toys together, I was a little confused. I asked her why does he have to put them together. I wish I could say I wasn’t expecting her answer.   “Because he’s the boy and that what boys do. They fix and build things.”   It’s a simple answer. And, to most, it sounds about right. But it made me incredibly angry. Not at Harley, but at the fact that somewhere down the line, she was taught that men have that specific role. Then, it got a little worse.   “Just like how you cook dinner and clean up the kitchen. That’s what girls do.”   Oh, Lord, no.   I asked where she learned that. Who taught you that, so that I may end them for polluting your mind? While she said no one taught her, I can’t help but think it was a mixture of watching and listening her grandparents and BM.   I explained to her (as calmly as I could muster) that there is no such thing as certain jobs that men and women do. I told her that daddy puts her toys together because she doesn’t bother to ask me, even though I’m completely capable of doing so. I told her that I cook dinner because, when she is with us, it’s usually my turn to cook. Her daddy and I take turns making dinner and cleaning the kitchen because we’re both perfectly capable of feeding our family. I told her that putting those limitations on people because of their gender is wrong and she needs to understand that by saying such things, she’s limiting her own potential to be everything she can be.   She looked at me like I was crazy. Said yes, mommy. And continued eating her dinner.   Was that too far? It might have been. I’m not entirely sure. What’s done is done and I sincerely hope that she took it to heart.   Like I said, I have no idea what I’m doing here.

[nerdmomblogs-blog]

This one has nothing to do with parenting

It really doesn't. I'm sure I could twist it that way, but let's be honest. As previously mentioned, I work in sales. And I adore it. To an extent. But it is a male dominated industry. Why, I'm not sure. But it is. Which means most of my coworkers are male. I'm OK with this. I prefer the company of men to women. We tend to have more in common and I usually don't have to attempt to understand fashion. But then there are some conversations I would rather not be apart of. Like the sexist ones. The guys I work with are pretty great. They are thoughtful, funny, and good for bouncing ideas around when I'm stuck. They're even good with advice about presents, dates, and jokes I can play on Ben. But occasionally it goes south quite quickly and I need to excuse myself from the conversation. Case in point, the other day I was talking to a coworker about Valentine's day. Ben and I have a whole romantic date planned that I am so excited for I can't help but talk about it. Romantic dinner, dancing, movie, and a carriage ride around downtown. My coworker looks at me and says "I know exactly how to make it perfect." Okay, I'm intrigued. "Let him be dominant. Have him take you to Victoria's Secret and pick out something sexy. Let him do whatever he wants to you. Make him a snack afterwards and bring him a drink. You'll get something nice out if it. You might even get a ring. A bigger ring. It'll give him a big ego boost." Wait... What? I'm not sure why this is still the idea of the woman's role. I'm really not. First off, I make damn sure Ben doesn't need an ego boost. He is my everything, my love, my soul mate, my darling, my king. And I tell him every day. I show him every day. Second off, while I agree there is nothing wrong with giving my significant other special treatment, it's still my body and my rules. No, you can't do whatever you want to me. That's not how this works. Third, if I am able to get up, walk to the kitchen, and get you a snack and a drink after sex, you didn't do your job right and therefore don't deserve a snack brought to you. Now, Ben has never expected such treatment from me because I take damn good care of him. And he takes damn good care of me. He is my king and I am his queen and we rule our Kingdom together as equals. We have a partnership. We split the bills, the work, the effort, and the responsibility. And, honestly, if it was really that good, neither of us should be able to walk afterwards. After explaining this to my coworker, he immediately backtracked, trying to say it could have been a nice change of pace. No. A nice change of pace would be both of us laying around watching movies together. A nice change of pace would be a quiet dinner alone at home. A nice change if pace would not be me bending over and letting Ben walk all over me because he's the man. And I recognize that a lot of people don't see this the way I do. And I'll get hell for it. But, let me ask you a question. If someone told your daughter to let a man do whatever he wanted to her, then told her that she needed to cook for him once he was done, how would that make you feel? And what would you tell her to do?

[nerdmomblogs-blog]

Let's talk about crazy...

So, before I was so excited and proud that BM was going to cooperate with our little plan to help Harley learn to be more aware of her actions (and their consequences.) So excited. But then everything hit the fan.   Now, when Harley is grounded, she cannot have ANYTHING. Meaning no tv, no music, no video games, and even no toys. She can read (something that has shown need to be amended), work on school work or handwriting, or she can do something to better herself, such as learning a new skill. So when she went to her BM for the weekend, I informed her that she needed to explain to her little sister that she couldn’t PLAY with her. I told Harley that she could not play with her sister, and if her sister could not accept that, then she would need to remove herself from that situation. This was strictly playing. At no point did I tell Harley that she could not spend time with her sister. She simply was not allowed to play with her.   I dropped Harley off with BM and went about my evening. Ran a few errands, stocked up on craft supplies and booze, and was in the process of picking out a new decoration for the Nerd Cave when my phone rang. BM. Oh, dear.   Upon answering the phone, my heart immediately dropped. BM was yelling at her children in the background about calming down. It took a good 15 seconds before she noticed I had answered. BM then proceeds to yell at me for “telling her daughter she wasn’t allowed to spend time with her sister.”   Jesus.   Now, I work in sales. I’m used to getting yelled at over the phone for ridiculous things. And I’m very used to handling things in an incredibly professional and patient manner. As she goes on, I’m silently coaching myself on the best way to diffuse the situation and get my point across as quickly and clearly as possible. Big deep breath. Here we go.   I informed her of what I explained to Harley, that she wasn’t allowed to play and if her sister threw a fit about it, she was to remove herself from the situation. Simple, right? Oh no. It can’t be that simple. BM goes on for a few more minutes about how I have no right to tell her daughter she can’t hang out with her sister. To which I repeat, she can spend time with her. She can sit and read to her or teach her something new if she likes. But she cannot play.   Which leads to an even more interesting… rant. I’m not even sure what to call it at this point.   BM goes for several minutes about how I will not speak to her like she is an idiot and that I’m being a “disrespectful bitch.”   Wait… What?   While I completely possess the ability to act as such, I won’t do so to the woman who can harm my daughter’s wellbeing. As much as I want to, I never will unless the situation is warranted. So, basically if I find out she is abusing my Harley.   At this point, I went full sales rep mode. Over powering professionalism. Forced smile to make my voice sound brighter. “No, dear, you misunderstand. I’m trying to have a professional, respectful conversation with you. And I would appreciate it if you would do me the same courtesy. Harley may not play with her sister. But if she would like to read to her or teach her something, she may. She’s grounded, not isolated.”   “Fine, I’m going to make dinner. She is such a drama queen. Thanks, bye.” Click.   I slowly slid my phone back into my pocket, suddenly very aware that I was shaking uncontrollably and smiling like a lunatic. Obviously implications aside, if there is one thing that I took away from the conversation, it was that this woman had a huge problem with my presence in Harley’s life. I knew that BM did not like me. That is completely fine. I actually don’t expect her to. I do expect her to understand that she is no longer the only mother figure in Harley’s life. And if she didn’t want me here she should have been a better mother in the first place. I understand her frustration with the situation and I also agree that Harley is a drama queen at times. But please, I’m just trying to help that little girl learn to deal with the world that she will have to join one day. If you have a problem with me, just talk to me about it like an adult. And if there is a problem with Harley while she is there, by all means call me and I will gladly discuss it with you. But as adults, as two mothers trying to make the best decision for OUR daughter. Because we’re all in this together. I would appreciate it if you would act like it.   We’re not even going to touch on the fact that your abrupt tone change and overdramatic emphasis on Harley being “your daughter” shows that you clearly need some help adjusting to this nonsense. Trust me, BM, I need some help adjusting too. It’s hard and it’s scary, but if you try talking it out, you’ll be amazed at how much better it makes everyone’s lives

[nerdmomblogs-blog]

Holy crap, co-parenting

Something big that I’ve noticed recently on social media: co-parenting. The idea is that parents who had children together but did not stay in a relationship/marriage continuing to raise their kids together with their respective significant others, regardless of how the adult parties feel about each other. This is something super awesome for the kids and, in my opinion, can be beneficial to the adults involved as well. Teach them patience and whatnot. I’ve seen a few of these articles, pictures, and posts and it does my heart good knowing that somewhere out there, some people are mature enough to put aside their differences and think about what is best for the child.   Now, this is nothing I ever expected in my own parenting escapades.   In all of the experience I’ve had with BM, the thought of co-parenting or even just trying to cooperate seems to have never crossed her mind. Every step we have taken to help Harley become a more mature person has been thwarted by BM. Every change has been a fight. It’s gotten to the point where Ben will just give up and not argue with her because it’s useless. I’ve been told I’m not allowed to engage (even if she starts it, which is bullshit) because we have to think about Harley and how it will affect her. I hate living in the idea that this… person (I’m trying so hard to be nice here) has the power to punish my daughter because of something I said or did. Without getting into too much detail, I’m just going to say that I’ve heard enough horror stories about BM’s house to keep my nonsense in check. But a miracle happened.   Harley got herself grounded. She lied to her father (who then neglected to tell me until 3 days later) and landed herself in a world of school with and handwriting practice. No music, no games, no TV. Nothing. And she is grounded until Saturday. This weekend is BM’s weekend.   So, in the spirit of holding ground with the 9 year old, I messaged BM to inform her the Harley is grounded and will be as well while she was with her. I figured that, since it would only be a half a day of grounding left, a well-placed argument could convince her to uphold our decision. I sat in the car for 5 minutes, formulating a plan of attack for the impending fight, when it happened. BM messaged me back. And she AGREED with me. I was floored. The woman who threw a fit that our child was calling me “mommy” told me that what I was proposing was a fantastic idea and she would love to make it something that was implemented at her house. After a lengthy conversation, explaining the strikes rule and what we had decided grounding would consist of, we agreed that the best way to handle Harley was to keep it uniform across the board and BM would be starting our system in her home.   I am still in shock.   The love of a child can be a powerful thing. It can even bring people to the same level.

[nerdmomblogs-blog]

On the topic of maturity...

Something I’ve noticed in my time with Harley, she is in no way, shape or form where she should be mentally. Which can be frustrating for a younger person suddenly in the mother position. I remember being her age and at no point did I want to be all in my parents face, want to snuggle with them constantly, or still throw temper tantrums when I didn’t get my way. I had chores, responsibilities, and a personal bubble. I was well spoken out of fear of the bar of soap and was incredibly respectful to everyone I met. Granted, these habits were taught out of fear, but they were taught and have proven useful as an adult. These are traits that Harley does not possess. She talks like a baby in hopes of getting her way. She only does her chores if she thinks it means she’ll be closer to me and her dad. And when she realizes that it won’t, she throws a fit. If I had to make a comparison, she acts more like a 5 year old than anything else.

Now, a little background on this matter. Harley, quite unfortunately, has not had the best upbringing:  A biological mother who has not set the best example. A father who has admitted to being distant and unhelpful. And a set of grandparents that took over as primary caregivers from birth who didn’t want to raise a child, but wanted to have a grandbaby. So, of course, when I stepped into the picture and started making changes, there has been friction. Which leads to another question: how do we change the behavior in a way that won’t cause Harley to completely reject it? Well, we’re still working on that. Slowly but surely, the behaviors are changing. It’s the patience in the transition that I’m having difficulty with.   For example, taking Harley to school.   You see, Ben and I work the nightshift in order to make ends meet. So, it’s a challenge to do… well anything with Harley. We get up in the morning, take her to school, take a nap, get ready for work, pick her up from school and take her to her grandparents who watch her while we’re at work until midnight. Then every other weekend her biological mother (BM from here on out) picks her up and keeps her for a few days. So, actually getting to spend time with Harley to help with the behavior change is a challenge. BM has a different approach to the situation which involves forcing knowledge on Harley that is 1) not age appropriate and 2) scares the hell out of Harley about growing up. As if that knowledge will make her act her age. In my opinion, it’s made everything worse. But that has nothing to do with anything at this time, I’m just ranting.   Now, when it comes to taking Harley to school, it’s a feat within itself. We wake up at 6 after being in bed for maybe 2 hours to brave the cold and take the kid to receive an education. Which I have no issue with. My issue is how she reacts every. Single. Morning. Let me be blunt, Harley is a hugger. She grabs on, snuggles in, and it takes some serious doing to get her to let go. Which, again, was cute in the beginning before I realized that she’s just a clingy little snot. It’s to the point where I have actually avoided getting out of bed because I was not mentally prepared for the cling. I wasn’t mentally ready to pry the kid off of my waist to make her go get dressed and ready for school. And when I finally forced myself out of bed and into the living room, I found myself legitimately angry that she grabbed on and wouldn’t let go. I like to think of myself as a logical person. And, given the circumstances, I can logically see why she is the way she is. And I do my very best not to be angry about it. But some days, particularly days after she stages her little web show, I can’t stop myself. Never fear, I’m not mean to her in the slightest. I hug her back, tell her I love her, and tell her to go get ready for school. I’ve never gotten on her for being loving. And I never will. But I will flop down on Ben’s lap on the couch once she lets go so she can’t get ahold of me again.   God bless my child with grace and kindness. God bless me with patience to teach her Your blessings.

[nerdmomblogs-blog]

First thing is first

First, a little background information. My name is Sam. I’m 23 years old, divorced, and not exactly the most stable person in the world. But I manage. Several months ago (it feels like a lifetime) I met my husband/boyfriend/significant other/whatever, Ben, and his 9 year old daughter, Harley. In those several months, Harley has decided I’m her new mother, her father and I are destined to be together, and has already planned our wedding, dream home, and future siblings of hers. It was cute at first, her excitement at having a normal family and a loving mother. Then, as time has progressed, it’s gotten annoying, borderline creepy. Not because my future has been planned by a 9 year old (it’s not the first time a child has planned my life, I’m used to that) but because she in encouraged by her grandparents. Heavily encouraged. I mean, her grandmother told her she could call me mommy after a month of being in her life. Now, don’t get me wrong at any point here. I absolutely adore my little family, my daughter’s enthusiasm, and the thought that everything is falling into place. I wouldn’t trade what I have here for anything in the universe. I love hearing my daughter talk, her little voice with her ideas are just beautiful. And in no way shape or form am I asking for advice, help, or comments of any kind. I’m simply here to provide myself with an outlet on a subject that is touchy to speak of in the first place. No one wants to talk about how their child is annoying to them. No one wants to talk about how little things their kid says and does makes them want to rip their eyes out. For lots of obvious reasons. I cannot fathom my life without Harley and Ben, but some days I get hit in the face with how different it is and I just can’t help but marvel at it.   For instance, one of the things I love and simultaneously hate about Harley is her love of Minecraft. She knows how to craft things I haven’t even begun to think of and it’s actually impressive. She begs her father and I to let her on the “big computer” so she can play (since her old little laptop won’t play the mods we have.) So we let her. And then it started to fray my nerves. You see, she talks to herself, which is not uncommon in children her age. But it’s loud. And involves a lot of yelling. So on weekends, when Mommy and Daddy are trying to lay down and relax for the first time in 2 weeks, an Earth-shattering yell can be heard from the office (Nerd Cave) as Harley destroys whatever is in her path. I learned recently that the reason she talks so much and so loudly is because all she wants to do is be a YouTube gamer. She wants to have her own show where she just talks and plays Minecraft like so many of her favorite performers. Which is adorable and actually fills me with a sense of pride at her ambition to become what she admires. But I could do without the yelling. But, luckily for me, this has opened a whole new realm of “creative parenting.” You see, Harley has picked up the bad habit of telling little white lies. Never anything too huge, usually playing dumb to get her way and try to get away with it. Including crying when confronted about it. This is a habit that I will do everything within my power to break. While I do my very best not to raise my voice to her, it’s difficult when she tells me that she “didn’t see” the gigantic bottle that her medicine is in when getting her breakfast from the top of the fridge when asked why she neglected to take it. That’s ridiculous. But, I digress. I’m all for creative parenting. I’m all for having options other than spanking and grounding my child. I would like to avoid those as much as possible. So, here’s the plan and the set up (that she knows nothing about.) I plan to break into her Minecraft world and plant as much TNT under the floor that I can fit. All wired to a switch by the door. Then, while she is logged in a playing, I’ll wait until she gets up for a bathroom break. Set the charges and change the setting from “peaceful” to “hard” for the monsters. And just let the hilarity ensue. She sees the monsters, runs into the house to escape and BOOM. Don’t lie to Mommy and your house stays intact. Now, before you say anything, yes I realize that this is mean and I probably shouldn’t destroy something that she worked very hard on. But where is the life lesson in that? Life isn’t fair and sometimes when you mess up, everything that you worked for falls to pieces right before your very eyes. I would much rather her learn that in a video game. Which would you rather, she has to rebuild her house on Minecraft or she has to rebuild her actual life a few years down the road because she never had to learn that there are serious consequences to her actions. I had to do that. And if being a little mean to Harley now will help prevent her having to go through that later, hell yes I’m going to do it.   Thank you for reading. I’ll try to update as often as possible.