The Huffle

Brennan huffles.

Yes, this is a term I coined myself.

Basically she takes a few short breaths followed by a longer sigh. It's seriously adorable.

Last night she huffled up a storm.  It was a long night. One of those nights as a parent where our grace and patience is tested. I suck at tests. I'd reached my limit. There was no joy. Hell, I was so tired if prompted I couldn't even SPELL joy.  "Vanna, I'd like to buy a vowel?"

And then she huffled.
My heart broke and exploded at the same time. ( Hello motherhood, am I right?!)

The nights are long, but the days are short.
Such an annoyingly cliche term. Probably because the truth hurts.

Our children come barrelling into this world.
 They steal our hearts- the proverbial parenthood wand pass: a relay race as old as time, leaving us forever chasing. It's a race we won't win. But really do we want to? Who better to carry our hearts than our children.

Five years ago I rocked a different baby. She huffled too.

We just bought her kindergarten school supplies. She is five, fierce, and I can't even kind of keep up. I guess my point here is this: It's said this is a season. What is failed to mention is sometimes it feels like hurricane season.

But no matter how brutal the storm is- it passes. It passes mommas.
So damn fast.

Let's all try to take a minute and just soak in the now, soak in the chaos that is whatever stage of parenting you're in. As we ride the rollercoaster that is motherhood instead of gripping that handrail knuckle tight, maybe today we just let go.

You can hear the huffle better hands free.

Love and light ♡

Squirrel Mom

Did you guys know that animal type parenting is a thing? Why this surprised me I have no idea. I mean sugar free, gluten free, joy free cake is a thing.

A real, sad, gross, thing.
So duh, of course there is such a thing as dolphin parenting. Where the hell have I been?! I'll tell you:
Hiding.
I've been hiding.

But I digress, time for some research: hi-ho hi-ho off to google I go. There are apparantly three animal genres:
-Tiger
-Elephant
- Dolphin

And you know what? I just don't fit in any of these categories well. Can't fit in my pants. Can't fit in at PTA gatherings. Can't fit the mini van into small parking spots when the door greeters, or moms who wear real pants are staring at me (nerves yall).  Can't fit into an appropriate parenting animal group either.The struggle. It is so damn real.

So I did some soul searching. This soul searching happened when I was on the toilet and it was cut short when I had not one, but two volunteers offer to assist in the wiping process.

But in my exstensive (five minutes) of research I have identified my own animal parenting type.

The squirrel.
Why you may ask am I a squirrel mom? Many valid and poignant reasons to follow:

1. Squirrels spend like 65% of their life hiding nuts. The other 45% is spent with them unsuccessfully trying to find them again.

Me. So me.
I loose my keys.
I loose my kids.
I loose my sanity.
I always think I've placed them in *the* sweet spot(you know the spot you put things, thinking I will totally remember, never to see the item again) Cue me 3 hours later searching fruitlessly in my fruit of the looms.

2. Have you ever done any squirrel watching? They are ALWAYS chasing other squirrels. Just frolicking about all frolick like, not a care in the world.

That mom you saw in aisle ten last week at target? The one in toddler pursuit next to the shampoo? The pursuit ended in a slide tackle with a double soumersault lay out.
*and the crowd goes wild*
Me. That was me.
My crew, we frolick hard.

3. My dad has bird feeders. It mortally wounds his soul when the squirrels steal the bird's food, which is often. Every day when my husband comes home he asks what is for dinner. I usually have my signature response: "No idea, but I haven't eaten all day. I am starving.

Lies. All Lies. 
I have actually eaten.
A lot. I've had roughly 5 chicken nuggets, 3 soggy pancakes, half a bag of goldfish, 2.5 string cheeses, .046 of a yogurt container, and 4 half drank juice boxes.
All stolen. Kids aren't the only one with sticky fingers."Wow Meara that was a fascinating retelling of the time three years ago you wore mismatched socks to wal mart!"

- chicken nugget dissapears in her distraction-

4. According to my exstensive bathroom research squirrels actually zigzag to avoid predators. So when they are acting a fool in the middle of the road there is actually a biological purpose to that crazy drunk run.

Pub crawl. 2012.
I don't feel the need to elaborate past that.

5. Squirrels get bulky during winter months as a biological protection against food scarcity and for warmth. Four years ago the grocery store ran out of milk and bread before a big snow storm. The storm lasted approximately 2.5 hours and melted in another 5, but let me tell you shit got real. As in new pants size real. It's been my biological imperitive after that traumatic experience to gain at least 5lbs every winter.
I get you squirrels. I do.

6. Squirrels give birth to between 2 and 5 young. They are born naked and helpless.
Yesterday one of children lost her ever loving shit. Tears, drama, desperation,
despair. She went full blown lifetime movie on me. The problem: lost shoes. By lost I mean they were in her closet. sitting next to all her other lost shoes.
*checks off 2-5 helpless children, as the two year old streaks past proudly displaying his man junk*

7. Apparantly squirrel moms are incredibly aggressive and territorial of their young. I consider myself a kind person. I open doors. I give up my seat. I volunteer. But make my kid cry and it is on like donkey kong. That door I just held? Zero problem smashing your foot in it. Twice. Squirrel mom crazy doesn't have shit on me.

I know some of you are wondering how I know all of this super relevant, and useful to my every day life, squirrel information?  Yes, yes I did google squirrels. How did I manage this with four small kids to take care of? I'll let you in on a squirrel mom secret.

I gave them snacks, let them frolick, and prayed no one died in the process. I mean with two to five in a litter the odds of several surviving to adulthood is fairly high.

Squirrel moms unite.

Love and light♡

In My Past Life I Was a Construction Worker.

I mom hard.

By mom hard I mean my kids eat frozen chicken nuggets and I make generous donation to the school bake sale instead of baking while flashing my " I've actually caught a house on fire while boiling water" paperwork.

This is why no one should've been surprised to find me surveying the local construction work about a mile from my house. Quality road work  matters. By surveying I mean nervously waving to construction workers and confused drivers while power walking with a purpose.

Let me backtrack. Audrey had a doctors appointment. A lengthy, scratch your eyes out, torturous doctors appointment. This left my mom (God bless her) with the buddha baby.

My baby is a boob baby. Girl doesn't miss a meal...Hell she doesn't miss a chance to motorboat herself catatonic in remebrance of a meal.(Don't act like you haven't done the same thing after a 2am taco bell cheesy gordita crunch run.) She does however miss every chance possible to take a bottle. God rest my mother's sanity, she was left with the 3 others, some pumped milk, and a long last look of pity.

May the odds be ever in your favor.
They weren't.

So after spending a few hours physically wrestling Audrey in front of some very confused parents and reassuring the nurse that her new elbow sized face bruise actually makes her look thinner we get the SOS call from my mom and head home.
Boob baby down.

We are hauling butt home. Im nervous mom sweating at this point. You moms know what im talking about. You know your baby has lost her shit so you're trying not to shit your pants. Cue road work from hell.

15 minutes we sit. 15 minutes. We are a mile away. You know those points in movies where the main character finally snaps and you know shits about to get real? This was me. Shit was about to get real, and not just in my pants.

I turn to my husband and say very calmy: " I'm getting out". Relationship goals yall. This is how you know you've reached them.

He glances at me and says:  "ok bye"
Clearly this man knows my brand of crazy. There was no um are you nuts, this is grid lock traffic, you're a mile away, the roads are torn up, there are no sidewalks, its hot. Nope, not from my guy. "ok bye".
Byyyyeeeeee.

Have you ever hit a deer? That deer in the headlight look is a real thing. I got this look from about 32 confused people sitting in cars who had the privilege of watching me scramble around chunks of road, cones, and do not cross tape.

It was almost as comical as the construction worker's faces. I decided to play it real awkward with them though, and just do some small waving and head nodding. Just taking a tour boys, great job. Love what you did with that corner back there!

So a mile later I arrive home. I roll in ( aka drag) my out of shape wheezing, sweaty, crazed look mom on a mission, give me that baby, roll in.

Baby is good. Kids are good.
Cue my husband pulling in approximately 3 minutes later.

What is the lesson in this story you may ask?
There is no crazy like mom crazy.
And my feet hurt.

Love and light ♡

Off the Beaten Path

I've sat and thought on this for months; debating what to share and what to keep private. In the end if by sharing our story I can help one person or raise some awareness, then it will have been worth it.

Let me tell you about my daughter Audrey.  She lights up every room she enters. She has a love for life that rivals any I've ever seen. Audrey has the ability to see the beauty and joy in things so many of us miss. She is a fighter and a free spirit.

Audrey has Autism.

I could tell you about the struggles. I could tell you about the countless tests, doctors, clinics; about the years without sleep, the seizures, and the brokenness you feel as a parent when you see your child struggle. I could tell you about the ignorant comments, the rampant misinformation out there, the fight you go through every single day as a parent to advocate for someone who can't do so themselves. I could tell you about the fears, the heartache, the lonliness that accompanies joining a club you never had any intention of joining: the special needs moms.

But instead I will tell you about my Audrey. She breaks every stereotype- even the ones within her diagnosis. She defies all odds. She fights harder and longer for things, but with each accomplishment the sense of joy is tripled. She teaches me every day what it means to love with abandon. She humbles me.

I once tried to explain Audrey to a nurse during a particularly rough test (EEG). I was translating Audrey's incoherent words after hours of fear laced tears for both of us. She looked at me mid speech- interupted, and said: "I suspect you and Audrey will always have a language of your own."

And that was that: understanding, acceptance, grace, and the beauty of our bond recognized by an outsider in the space of ten seconds.

Robert Frost has a poem I enjoy, specifically the line: "Two roads diverged in a wood, I took the one less traveled and that has made all the difference."

Having a child with autism is a different path; but sometimes the greatest beauty is found off the beaten road and our biggest journeys found when the destination is set to unknown.

Audrey has autism. It does not define her.  She doesn't let it.
Therefore, neither will I.

Love and Light ♡

We Cry Over Spilled Milk Here

An open letter to the sadist who came up with this brilliant phrase:

“There is no use in crying over spilled milk.”

I have so many words for you.

First off, I would bet every last penny in my kid’s piggy bank that you are one of those parenting experts who has all this vast child rearing knowledge only because the closest thing to a child you have is a pet iguana named Steve. When Steve spills his water you don’t cry. You create a lake of love.

And for those of you whispering behind my back about using my kid’s money for gambling endeavors you heard me right. My children have stolen my sanity, my snacks, and my skin's elasticity. They can spare me 45 pennies to do a little online gambling. Mommy needs her hobbies too.

Second off, have you ever cleaned up a large amount of water or food spilled on the floor? I think not. Because if you had you would be recanting your statement real quick. You know what happens when large amounts of liquid is spilled in my house? My kids suddenly think the splash pad has relocated in our kitchen. And not just any splash pad, a naked one. Have you ever had three naked children attempt to slip and slide in a gallon of juice? It isn’t pretty. Citrusy, yes. Pretty, no.

It is OK to cry guys. In the iconic words of one of our nation’s wisest leaders (Justin Timberlake) cry me a river! Take that Steve the Iguana. You may have a lake of love, but my children have a river of their mother's own tears. I win.

All of this ranting is leading to today’s special story my friends, fear not.

First a little back story. Audrey cannot eat colored cereal. You know those memes of unicorns pooping rainbows? I have always known Audrey was some special kind of unicorn, but the fact that she poops rainbows when eating artificially dyed cereal only confirms this. This morning I busted out a brand new family sized box of cheerios. Audrey was pleased, and ate 36.876 helpings.

Today for lunch I made Chicken Tetrazzini. I knew it was more than likely my children would attempt to eat their napkin over any meal that I cook, but if I am anything it is ever the optimist.

Or stupid. Call it like you see it.

I have this casserole premade to give you a time frame of the crime scene.

I run upstairs real fast to put said torture device(aka tetrazzini casserole) in the oven. Then I pat myself on the back for completing my daily work out, as I do my cool down by slowly walking down the stairs gasping for breath.

Cue my eyes bleeding from horror. Rough estimate here, but I would say there are about 35,000 pieces of cheerios strewn about my basement floor. Audrey is attempting to do the breast stroke through this catastrophe while also shoving fistfuls of carpet cereal in her mouth.

Would you like to know how many cheerios remain in the box? 3.

What do I do you ask? I wipe a glistening tear from my eye, turn around without a word and get the vacuum. Audrey ever the helpful child that she is then attempts to shove the cereal up the vacuum as I work, one piece at a time, obviously. About halfway through my vacuum decides it hates me as much as my children do and decides it is done with this ridiculousness. Cue my crawling on my hands and knees picking up the 20,000 pieces of cereal I did not vacuum up, while Audrey gives me love pats on the ass.

When I finally finish, I turn around to find Audrey calming observing me while eating a bag of Doritos. Do I have any idea where these Doritos came from? Absolutely not.  At this point I just ask her to share and we split the snack that is only slightly wet from my salty tears.

The lesson here: Cry over the milk. Cry over the cereal. Then combine the two and call it dinner, because you know those kids didn’t eat that tetrazzini.

To my brethren in the struggle I say to you, we must find the humor in these situations or else we will find ourselves in a jail cell.

Love and light from another momma in the struggle <3

Life Lessons from Audrey

I have a beautiful little free spirit in my middle child. She plays hard, fights fierce, and loves with abandon. This strong willed little thing has taught me some big lessons.

 Here are a handful:

1. You don't have to match. At all. Stripes, plaids, mismatched shoes; If it makes you happy put it on. Its an outfit, not a peace treaty.

2. Food. Is. Awesome. Like seriously awesome. Eat all the food, but only when you're hungry.
Because moderation.

3. Forget dancing to your own beat. Step that shit up and create your own marching band. Life is short. Be fierce. Never apologize for letting your light shine. Shine that stuff everywhere, it makes the world a better place.

4. Enjoy the little stuff. The smallest things can bring the biggest joy. Take the time to stop and breathe it in. You'll be better for it.

5. Get dirty as much as possible. Lessons are learned when a little dirt and a lot of imagination meet. All good foundations have a solid layer of earth beneathe them.

6. Fall down. It's the only way you'll ever learn to get up again. Bruises aren't permanent. Walk it off. Scars give you character. Character gives you courage. In falling and failing, we often learn to fly.

7. Anger is healthy. It's necessary to be angry sometimes. What matters most is how you deal with that anger. Anger may be healthy, but hate is not.

8. Do not flush stuff down the toilet. In the case of plumbing what goes down tends to come right back up.

Eat the cake.
Wear the pants.
Stop to smell the flowers.
Make your own adventures.
Fail.
Apologize when your wrong.
Avoid poor plumbing choices.

Deep breathes friends, because every little thing is gonna be alright.

Love and light from another momma in the struggle. <3

Boobs.

I don’t often cover controversial topics, mainly because my kids like to clog the toilets for fun, so I get my share of pain and discomfort the good old fashioned way.

But today I’m feeling bold and bloated so here goes nothing.

I did not feed my child yesterday when he was hungry.

Cue the collective internet throwing tomatoes and judgement at me. I’ll take the tomatoes, those are a favorite snack of mine, and the judgement is routine as well but today I’m on your side internet, because no baby should go hungry. After hours of errands, and appointments, I had a very fussy nearly one year old who wanted to nurse while waiting to be seen for a doctor’s appointment. And I made him wait 15 minutes until we got home.

·         Because I was selfish and didn’t want to deal with the stares.

·         Because I had all three of my kids with me and feeding him in the car just wasn’t logistically feasible while also waiting for our name to be called.

·         Because he thinks eating under a blanket is ridiculous. When was the last time you pitched  tent to eat some cheez its?

·         Because the bathroom wasn’t big enough for all of us and Audrey when left unsupervised leaves a trail of tator tots and tears in her wake.

·         Because he does not take a bottle.

Here is the thing, I don’t give two hoots how you feed your kid. I think formula is awesome. I think Mcdonald’s double cheeseburgers are even more awesome.

I think if you have happy kid who isn’t hungry you are basically nailing this entire parenting thing. I don’t judge how anyone does anything. There are a million different ways to accomplish the same thing. We all have the same goal: happy, healthy, kids.

I DON’T think by practicing extended breastfeeding I am better than anyone. Lord knows, I think the opposite of that. I don’t think my children are going to be the next Einstein’s because of it either. My middle child likes to store rocks in her pants for fun. Its a real hobby of hers. I think she's basically the best thing since sliced bread, but clearly all the breast milk didn't squash her natural love of dirt down her pants or her passion for wearing miss-matched shoes with a headband as a belt.

What I do think is this:

I worry for my daughters who are being raised in a world where feeding a hungry baby is taboo. I think that it is totally ridiculous that breast have been so sexualized that their natural God given purpose has been lost. I think its incredibly sad that we live in a world where anxiety and publicly feeding a child go hand in hand. I think after over 4 years of nursing I still have much to learn.

I think next time I will just feed my baby. Or gasp, my TODDLER.

Because haters gonna hate.

Love and light from another momma in the struggle <3