Sunday, December 20, 2015
Look.
Motherhood can be incredibly thankless at times. It's messy, exhausting, and never ending. It's beautiful. It is the most important thing I will ever do.
But it's the hardest.
Sometimes as a mother I want to beat on my chest and scream: LOOK!
LOOK at what I do. Look at the hours of sleep lost, look at the laundry, the dishes, the floors. Look at what I've done!
Look at those perfect little hoodlums. I bathed them. I fed them. I read 5 million books, broke up another 2 million fights. I listened. I patted. I rocked.
I was frustrated.
I was overwhelmed.
I sacrificed.
And then the human in me begins that beating again. Look. Look at what I have done.
Except a sacrifice is inherently selfless. And my need for recognition negates the purpose of all my giving.
I give because they make me a better person every single day. I give for the moments my child grabs my face in her hands, rests her cheek to mine, and giggles. I give for the quiet sighs. I give for baby snuggles. I give for when Meara whispers in my ear "you're my best friend mom." I give for 30 perfect fingers and toes. I give for garbeled secrets and happy shrieks.
I am certainly not here to say we do not deserve recognition. We have the best work. We have the hardest work. It should be valued.
But this is for any other mommas who may be beating on their chests sometimes too.
I see you.
I know your quiet sacrifices.
They matter.
And they're worth it.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Be the Light
Yesterday tragedy reared it's ugly head: We live in uncertain times. My heart aches.
And aches.
It aches for the city. It aches for the victims. It aches for the families. It aches for my children who have no choice but to grow up in these uncertain time.
I don't know how to solve these huge problems. I don't know how to negate this terrible thing that is terrorism, this huge growth of global hate. I fear for my children.
I fear for their children.
Here is what I do know. I do know my children are the future. How they navigate this world will decide what the world becomes. I cannot solve this global crisis.
But here is what I can do.
I can teach my children love. The real unconditional truth of love. Loving your neighbors, loving your friends, loving your enemy. Loving the strange kid in their class that talks funny, loving the little girl down the street that looks funny. I can teach my children that although there is hate in this world, nothing is bigger than love.
I can teach my children kindness. I can show them what it means to give the most life changing gift there is: compassion. I can show them that sometimes the smallest acts can make the biggest impact in other's lives.
I can teach my children about diversity. The beautiful thing it is, and how to celebrate our differences. I can teach my children about this world, about how the differences in race, culture, and religion do not divide us. We choose that division out of ignorance.
I can teach my children empathy. This world is lacking in this. Let's raise a generation who pauses and walks a day in someone else's shoes before they judge. Let's raise children who will be unable to walk passed the homeless without pausing, who will be unable to watch a stranger in distress without reaching out. Let's teach our children to use their hearts to reach others.
I can teach my children their most valuable asset is their minds and not their fists. I can raise children who's greatest weapon and asset is not their physical strength, but their strength of character.
Will this stop all of the hate and fear of this world? Will this end the needless violence, the overwhelming bigotry prevelent? It won't erase it. I will not pretend to believe that.Where there is light there is darkness.
But we can teach our children to shine brighter.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
And aches.
It aches for the city. It aches for the victims. It aches for the families. It aches for my children who have no choice but to grow up in these uncertain time.
I don't know how to solve these huge problems. I don't know how to negate this terrible thing that is terrorism, this huge growth of global hate. I fear for my children.
I fear for their children.
Here is what I do know. I do know my children are the future. How they navigate this world will decide what the world becomes. I cannot solve this global crisis.
But here is what I can do.
I can teach my children love. The real unconditional truth of love. Loving your neighbors, loving your friends, loving your enemy. Loving the strange kid in their class that talks funny, loving the little girl down the street that looks funny. I can teach my children that although there is hate in this world, nothing is bigger than love.
I can teach my children kindness. I can show them what it means to give the most life changing gift there is: compassion. I can show them that sometimes the smallest acts can make the biggest impact in other's lives.
I can teach my children about diversity. The beautiful thing it is, and how to celebrate our differences. I can teach my children about this world, about how the differences in race, culture, and religion do not divide us. We choose that division out of ignorance.
I can teach my children empathy. This world is lacking in this. Let's raise a generation who pauses and walks a day in someone else's shoes before they judge. Let's raise children who will be unable to walk passed the homeless without pausing, who will be unable to watch a stranger in distress without reaching out. Let's teach our children to use their hearts to reach others.
I can teach my children their most valuable asset is their minds and not their fists. I can raise children who's greatest weapon and asset is not their physical strength, but their strength of character.
Will this stop all of the hate and fear of this world? Will this end the needless violence, the overwhelming bigotry prevelent? It won't erase it. I will not pretend to believe that.Where there is light there is darkness.
But we can teach our children to shine brighter.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Saturday, November 7, 2015
I see you.
This is to you, the mom who is tired. This is to
the mom who gives, and gives, and gives, until she has nothing left- and then
gives some more. This is to the mom who wants to quit. This is to the mom
who questions her value or worth.
I see you. You are worth more than you could ever imagine.
I see you up at all hours of the night. You're exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally, but you still get up and rock that baby. You still get up and comfort that toddler. You nurse, you pace, you fetch, and you worry. You constantly put others needs before your own.
I see you. What you do matters.
I see you take a deep breath as your children fight with each other for the millionth time today. I know your nerves are frayed. You're patience is gone. But I see you take a deep breath and tackle that tantrum. I see you choose kindness when it wasn't the easiest path.
I see you. What you do matters.
I see you glance at your reflection in the mirror. You don't even recognize the tired eyes staring back at you. You have forgotten what it feels like to feel beautiful, to be comfortable in your own skin. I see you throw your hair up and prepare for the day. There are breakfasts to be made and stories to be told. Here's the thing, the choices that cause you to feel less than beautiful are actually what make you stunning. You chose a sleepless night. You chose to skip that shower because someone desperately needed you. You choose those yoga pants because there are mountains to climb and adventures to be had.
I see you.
To the mom who has mountains of laundry, the mom whose sink is overflowing, but isn't half as full as her plate.
What you do matters.
What you give matters.
Who you are matters.
So much of motherhood is unseen. But momma I see you. I see you read just one more book. I see you sing one more song. I see you feed your babies firsts, seconds, and thirds, before you try to eat yourself.
Your sacrifices do not go unnoticed. You're in the trenches right now and it's messy. But soldier on momma because you're doing some of the most important work there is, and you're doing amazing.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Monday, November 2, 2015
The 5 Rings of Hell: A Toddler's Public Meltdown
So you've made the extremely unwise decision to venture out in public with your little sugar pies of Satan. You've probably dressed them in their cutest little outfit. If you're me, that means matching bows and cowboy boots. You admire the fruit of your loins. Look how sweet they look, look how nicely they're listening and playing. You breathe a sigh of relief and attempt direct eye contact with your nugget of love. Next comes a cleansing sigh of relief. You've got this shit. You're basically super mom.
Then all hell breaks loose.
The following are the psychological stages a parent goes through during a toddler meltdown. Reader discretion is advised. This isn't pretty.
1. Denial.
Surely that is not your sweet angel baby sobbing on the floor of walgreens. No child of mine would ever have the capabilities of producing those inhumane screams. Even the cashier is crying from the trauma of witnessing this spectacle. My child would never throw a can of corn at my head at the grocery store, or rip her pants off and run away in protest of being asked to eat another chicken nugget. Surely this snot covered little muffin, who may be having an epileptic seizure in the middle of this very public playground did not come from my uterus?!?! That's it. We've officially lost our invite to play group. Way to go peanut.
2. Anger
Since several people and several documents do in fact confirm that this is your child. Denial is no longer an option. Cue the anger. You start sweating. Angry tears are forming. You did not watch 13 hours of Callioux that taught the valuable life lessons of patience and self control for this to happen. You have spent too many hours teaching that little nugget how to act only to have them act the opposite. You begin to have rage flashes. These are very similar to hot flashes. There is a lot of sweating and hormones involved. You're overwhelmed with the desire to start screaming and banging your head against the next available hard surface.
3. Bargaining
This is your toddlers very "faborite" stage. You've moved on from the anger since screaming at your child at the top of your lungs is generally frowned on in public. Now comes the bargaining. Hey there cute kid currently screeching while performing an alligator roll on the floor, would you like a cookie, maybe a sucker, maybe a new corvette, or even new mother?! At this point I'll give you my own kidney and the keys to the car to get you to cease and desist.
4. Depression
So your child just turned down three juice boxes, two unicorns, and a 3 months stay at grandmas. Cue the cloud of depression that falls upon you. You glance at your child, they seem to have broken out in hives from lack of oxygen. That is your kid.
F o r e v e r.
18 to life, can't send them back, forever yours. You start to envision the thousands of tantrums ahead of you. You shiver in fear. Your child is now rolling around on the floor while randomly doing a jujitsu move on their sibling. Where did you go wrong?!?! Too many chicken nuggets? You should've started them in piano. I've heard musically gifted kids are better behaved. You're child can't spell their own name but has no problem punching a doctor. What did you do to deserve this?! It was that one time you cheated on that chemistry test in college. Karma has come back to you in the form of a small psychopath. The cloud of depression grows deeper.
5. Acceptance.
This is my favorite. Sure your kid resembles several of the characters from the exorcist. Sure you can never leave the house again. Hey, there might be a chance you're raising the next Jeffrey Dahmer, but by God that is YOUR little sociopath and you love them just the way they are. Kind of. Now gather up that little bundle of toddler terror, give them a snuggle, remember what those 4 minutes were like last week when they were sweet, and move to the next town where they don't know about your child's ability to break glass with one cry.
Now that we've reviewed the stages we as parents go through when our children lose their minds in public. I've got nothing more for you. Good luck. Lets hope for the best and maybe buy some more beer. We've got some years ahead of us.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Then all hell breaks loose.
The following are the psychological stages a parent goes through during a toddler meltdown. Reader discretion is advised. This isn't pretty.
1. Denial.
Surely that is not your sweet angel baby sobbing on the floor of walgreens. No child of mine would ever have the capabilities of producing those inhumane screams. Even the cashier is crying from the trauma of witnessing this spectacle. My child would never throw a can of corn at my head at the grocery store, or rip her pants off and run away in protest of being asked to eat another chicken nugget. Surely this snot covered little muffin, who may be having an epileptic seizure in the middle of this very public playground did not come from my uterus?!?! That's it. We've officially lost our invite to play group. Way to go peanut.
2. Anger
Since several people and several documents do in fact confirm that this is your child. Denial is no longer an option. Cue the anger. You start sweating. Angry tears are forming. You did not watch 13 hours of Callioux that taught the valuable life lessons of patience and self control for this to happen. You have spent too many hours teaching that little nugget how to act only to have them act the opposite. You begin to have rage flashes. These are very similar to hot flashes. There is a lot of sweating and hormones involved. You're overwhelmed with the desire to start screaming and banging your head against the next available hard surface.
3. Bargaining
This is your toddlers very "faborite" stage. You've moved on from the anger since screaming at your child at the top of your lungs is generally frowned on in public. Now comes the bargaining. Hey there cute kid currently screeching while performing an alligator roll on the floor, would you like a cookie, maybe a sucker, maybe a new corvette, or even new mother?! At this point I'll give you my own kidney and the keys to the car to get you to cease and desist.
4. Depression
So your child just turned down three juice boxes, two unicorns, and a 3 months stay at grandmas. Cue the cloud of depression that falls upon you. You glance at your child, they seem to have broken out in hives from lack of oxygen. That is your kid.
F o r e v e r.
18 to life, can't send them back, forever yours. You start to envision the thousands of tantrums ahead of you. You shiver in fear. Your child is now rolling around on the floor while randomly doing a jujitsu move on their sibling. Where did you go wrong?!?! Too many chicken nuggets? You should've started them in piano. I've heard musically gifted kids are better behaved. You're child can't spell their own name but has no problem punching a doctor. What did you do to deserve this?! It was that one time you cheated on that chemistry test in college. Karma has come back to you in the form of a small psychopath. The cloud of depression grows deeper.
5. Acceptance.
This is my favorite. Sure your kid resembles several of the characters from the exorcist. Sure you can never leave the house again. Hey, there might be a chance you're raising the next Jeffrey Dahmer, but by God that is YOUR little sociopath and you love them just the way they are. Kind of. Now gather up that little bundle of toddler terror, give them a snuggle, remember what those 4 minutes were like last week when they were sweet, and move to the next town where they don't know about your child's ability to break glass with one cry.
Now that we've reviewed the stages we as parents go through when our children lose their minds in public. I've got nothing more for you. Good luck. Lets hope for the best and maybe buy some more beer. We've got some years ahead of us.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Thursday, October 29, 2015
A Holiday Buyers Guide that Won't End in Divorce
With the holiday season quickly approaching many of us are begining our shopping preparations for all those special someone's in our lives. I don't know about you, but I've received some really remarkable gifts over the years. Because of these little gems I have created a holiday shopping guide. Feel free to print this out and tape to your husband's forehead, because husbands learn through osmosis. Also, he is more likely to read it if you tape it over his mouth and eyes. You know he won't be missing any football or snacks so this increases the chances he will remove it and possibly glance down(disclaimer, no husbands were hurt in the pursuit of better gifts this year.)
A list of things NOT to buy me for Christmas:
1. Any sort of cleaning supply or device. On the day we celebrate sweet baby Jesus being evicted from his mother's uterus, I do NOT need to be reminded that I am surrounded by play dough encrusted carpet or that my counters seem to be covered in hardened maple syrup. If you buy me clorox wipes your day will not be merry or bright. You've been warned.
2. Kitchen supplies. I do not care if my pans are from 1982. I do not care that my baking sheets look like they've been in a hail storm. My thighs look like that too, are you going to replace those as well? Because that would be a better present. You know what I do all day? Feed people. All day. I dole out more snacks than your local food truck. Except I don't get paid, and it is usually smeared in my kids hair or thrown back at me like a weapon. So please no utensils that will serve as weapons for my small rug rats to threaten me with when I don't cut their sandwiches correctly. I fail them often.
3. Linens. Listen I know that I probably need them. Audrey enjoys pooping on the floor so we've had to toss out a few too many towels. We've also had to begin therapy because motherhood is traumatizing. We could probably also use some dish towels and sheets, but I'm sorry nothing says you don't really matter more than a pack of wash cloths. "Abby I really value your selfless service to this family. This is why I bought you this lovely assortment of wash cloths. I know you don't bathe, but you can use these when you're slaving away washing your kids butts or cleaning up their vomit."
4. Any sort of organizational tool. Listen I do not have my shit together. I will never have my shit together. You can buy me 3 planners, 2 address books, a shoe rack, 28 storage bins, a desk organizer, and a mail sorter. I will still lose my children. I will still lock the keys in the car while the car is running. I will still put my pants on backwards once a week. Do not waste your money. This is a lost cause. Accept it. Move on. We will all be happier for it.
Now that I've crushed your shopping hopes and dreams let me build you up a bit.
Here are some treasures I would like to receive:
1. A cleaning lady. Please sweet, baby Jesus buy me a good house scrub, but make sure it isn't a cleaning lady who runs her mouth. I don't want it to get around how many snacks my kids shove in the couch cushions or that I sometimes hide trash under the rug.
2. A baby sitter. As much as I love these beautiful little sweet potatoes I've taken one too many diapers to the face lately. Several of them are so attached to me I'm beginning to think they are going to attempt to re-enter my uterus soon. Momma needs a break. Although I'm sure even if I got one, the echos of their piercing cries would still reverberate in my ears. Buy me a baby sitter and you win for life. I would even consider gifting you my first born. She has a bit of an attitude and does poop her pants occasionally, but other than that I really think she could be going places one day.
3. Food. Good food. Food that doesn't have cartoon characters on the box. Food that I don't have to share. Food that isn't in the shape of extinct animals. Food that isnt eaten off a disney princess plate. Buy me a good meal that isn't stolen or slobbered on by my kids and you will be my favorite.
4. New work out clothes. I haven't worked out since 2012 but I'm considering getting into acting, so I thought I'd practice by pretending to be Mia Hamm everyday for 3 years. But seriously I'm 5 years behind in laundry and the only pair of yoga pants I have left have a hole in the crotch. I mean, I still wear them but I'm worried I may get pregnant again if I keep it up, so some new pants would be appreciated.
I could continue but if you follow these basic guidelines for that special lady in your life I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, or at least not sleeping on the couch for a week and being sent notarized divorce paperwork. I can't promise anything though, I don't know how often you unload the dishwasher. Unloading the dishwasher has been statistically proven to lower ones couch sleeping days.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
A list of things NOT to buy me for Christmas:
1. Any sort of cleaning supply or device. On the day we celebrate sweet baby Jesus being evicted from his mother's uterus, I do NOT need to be reminded that I am surrounded by play dough encrusted carpet or that my counters seem to be covered in hardened maple syrup. If you buy me clorox wipes your day will not be merry or bright. You've been warned.
2. Kitchen supplies. I do not care if my pans are from 1982. I do not care that my baking sheets look like they've been in a hail storm. My thighs look like that too, are you going to replace those as well? Because that would be a better present. You know what I do all day? Feed people. All day. I dole out more snacks than your local food truck. Except I don't get paid, and it is usually smeared in my kids hair or thrown back at me like a weapon. So please no utensils that will serve as weapons for my small rug rats to threaten me with when I don't cut their sandwiches correctly. I fail them often.
3. Linens. Listen I know that I probably need them. Audrey enjoys pooping on the floor so we've had to toss out a few too many towels. We've also had to begin therapy because motherhood is traumatizing. We could probably also use some dish towels and sheets, but I'm sorry nothing says you don't really matter more than a pack of wash cloths. "Abby I really value your selfless service to this family. This is why I bought you this lovely assortment of wash cloths. I know you don't bathe, but you can use these when you're slaving away washing your kids butts or cleaning up their vomit."
4. Any sort of organizational tool. Listen I do not have my shit together. I will never have my shit together. You can buy me 3 planners, 2 address books, a shoe rack, 28 storage bins, a desk organizer, and a mail sorter. I will still lose my children. I will still lock the keys in the car while the car is running. I will still put my pants on backwards once a week. Do not waste your money. This is a lost cause. Accept it. Move on. We will all be happier for it.
Now that I've crushed your shopping hopes and dreams let me build you up a bit.
Here are some treasures I would like to receive:
1. A cleaning lady. Please sweet, baby Jesus buy me a good house scrub, but make sure it isn't a cleaning lady who runs her mouth. I don't want it to get around how many snacks my kids shove in the couch cushions or that I sometimes hide trash under the rug.
2. A baby sitter. As much as I love these beautiful little sweet potatoes I've taken one too many diapers to the face lately. Several of them are so attached to me I'm beginning to think they are going to attempt to re-enter my uterus soon. Momma needs a break. Although I'm sure even if I got one, the echos of their piercing cries would still reverberate in my ears. Buy me a baby sitter and you win for life. I would even consider gifting you my first born. She has a bit of an attitude and does poop her pants occasionally, but other than that I really think she could be going places one day.
3. Food. Good food. Food that doesn't have cartoon characters on the box. Food that I don't have to share. Food that isn't in the shape of extinct animals. Food that isnt eaten off a disney princess plate. Buy me a good meal that isn't stolen or slobbered on by my kids and you will be my favorite.
4. New work out clothes. I haven't worked out since 2012 but I'm considering getting into acting, so I thought I'd practice by pretending to be Mia Hamm everyday for 3 years. But seriously I'm 5 years behind in laundry and the only pair of yoga pants I have left have a hole in the crotch. I mean, I still wear them but I'm worried I may get pregnant again if I keep it up, so some new pants would be appreciated.
I could continue but if you follow these basic guidelines for that special lady in your life I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, or at least not sleeping on the couch for a week and being sent notarized divorce paperwork. I can't promise anything though, I don't know how often you unload the dishwasher. Unloading the dishwasher has been statistically proven to lower ones couch sleeping days.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Famous Last Words: Stop Saying This Stuff!
Mommas we need to talk: heart to heart, nursing bra to nursing bra. Let's let our desperate tears and cheeto fingers intermingle as we get real. I repeatedly hear phrases that I just don't agree with. And if I don't agree with them they must be wrong, because I'm always right. Just ask my husband. So here is a small list of phrases we all need to cut out of our vernacular.
Shit we all need to stop saying:
1. "Can I take a shower?"
Um are we under a water restriction? Did I marry the shower fairy? Last I checked my husband was the co owner of these little hoodlums and therefore shares equal responsibility for them. Did motherhood rob me of an equal right for a clean butt? I missed that memo.
We should instead say "hey watch the fruit of your loins, while I practice my daily right to not smell like my children's defecation."
2. "Oh it was no big deal"
Um actually it was a big deal. It took a lot of time and effort. Or, yeah it was an inconvenience but I dealt. Instead us idiots are baking 62 minion cookies for our 6th cousin's birthday and hosting 3 exchange students. Do you happen to speak french?! Me either, but I think that kid either asked for a bagel or has some phlegm in their throat. Luckily we have another six months to work on the language barrier.
Instead we should acknowledge the bad asses that we actually are: " yeah it was a big deal but I'm an amazing multi tasker who poops glitter and sweats sparkles. I'm glad I was able to gift you with my awesomeness"
3. "Sorry about the mess"
No. Just no. First off, the mess is an indication that actual people live here. Why do we feel the need to justify the biproducts that inherently come from living? These biproducts sometimes include dirty underwear on the ceiling fan. It happens. If you're doing parenting right more than likely there is play dough embedded into your ear drums and walking across the carpet is similar to walking barefoot across fire. Have you ever stepped on Legos before? I have a friend who lost two toes to the transformers Lego set. Not the transformation she expected. Second, if I'm apologizing for my mess that usually means I did not have a heads up to your arrival. Had I had a heads up I would've been stuffing toys and children under the couch cushions while eating all the crackers off the carpet. I'm a conservationist. Just because I'm at home knee deep in rug rats does not mean you can just come over willy nilly to observe my naked, peanut butter covered children.
Instead we should say: " I'm not even slightly sorry about the mess but if you'd like to clean it the vaccum is in the hall closet. I'll be in the kitchen with a beer."
3. "Sorry I am such a mess."
First, why are we even acknowledging our disheveled appearance. They have eyes, no need for a discussion. Second, ladies we brought life into this world. Now we are in charge of making sure that life doesn't kill itself or its siblings by eating glue or jumping off the bunk bed. I don't know about you, but trying to make sure my kids don't meet an untimely end is a full time job. This full time job doesn't involve hair curlers or mascara.
Instead we should say " sorry if my appearance makes you uncomfortable. My boob sweat is currently making me uncomfortable as well, but I had to sprint to stop my toddler from eating a snail, so we both are going to have to learn to deal."
4. "I'm really sorry to ask but..."
Why and when did asking for help become such a crime. Where the hell did our village go? I tried to do it all once. I caught my house on fire. True story. If Who Wants to be a Millionaire has the phone a friend option, why shouldn't I?
Instead we should say: "I've caught the kitchen on fire. My children are wearing their pants as hats, and I have string cheese in my hair. Can I come over?!"
And there shouldn't be shame to that. The response should be, "as long as you bring wine."
5. "Yes."
I know I'm not alone here in this, I swear the second your child is born the yes monster is born as well. You find yourself agreeing to groom the neighbors dog (you don't own scissors) and bake a cake for your best friend's aunt' 4th wedding (your cake baking abilities do not extend beyond purchasing the pre made kind the day of at Wal mart.) Motherhood is inherently selfless and we all tend to extend that natural tendency to other areas of our lives.
Instead, what you should say mommas, what is OK to say is: "No."
Just this. No explanation, no justification. Give yourself the grace to accept your sacrifices are many and, sometimes it's ok to give to yourself the gift of being a priority.
Take these words of wisdom from a
Shit we all need to stop saying:
1. "Can I take a shower?"
Um are we under a water restriction? Did I marry the shower fairy? Last I checked my husband was the co owner of these little hoodlums and therefore shares equal responsibility for them. Did motherhood rob me of an equal right for a clean butt? I missed that memo.
We should instead say "hey watch the fruit of your loins, while I practice my daily right to not smell like my children's defecation."
2. "Oh it was no big deal"
Um actually it was a big deal. It took a lot of time and effort. Or, yeah it was an inconvenience but I dealt. Instead us idiots are baking 62 minion cookies for our 6th cousin's birthday and hosting 3 exchange students. Do you happen to speak french?! Me either, but I think that kid either asked for a bagel or has some phlegm in their throat. Luckily we have another six months to work on the language barrier.
Instead we should acknowledge the bad asses that we actually are: " yeah it was a big deal but I'm an amazing multi tasker who poops glitter and sweats sparkles. I'm glad I was able to gift you with my awesomeness"
3. "Sorry about the mess"
No. Just no. First off, the mess is an indication that actual people live here. Why do we feel the need to justify the biproducts that inherently come from living? These biproducts sometimes include dirty underwear on the ceiling fan. It happens. If you're doing parenting right more than likely there is play dough embedded into your ear drums and walking across the carpet is similar to walking barefoot across fire. Have you ever stepped on Legos before? I have a friend who lost two toes to the transformers Lego set. Not the transformation she expected. Second, if I'm apologizing for my mess that usually means I did not have a heads up to your arrival. Had I had a heads up I would've been stuffing toys and children under the couch cushions while eating all the crackers off the carpet. I'm a conservationist. Just because I'm at home knee deep in rug rats does not mean you can just come over willy nilly to observe my naked, peanut butter covered children.
Instead we should say: " I'm not even slightly sorry about the mess but if you'd like to clean it the vaccum is in the hall closet. I'll be in the kitchen with a beer."
3. "Sorry I am such a mess."
First, why are we even acknowledging our disheveled appearance. They have eyes, no need for a discussion. Second, ladies we brought life into this world. Now we are in charge of making sure that life doesn't kill itself or its siblings by eating glue or jumping off the bunk bed. I don't know about you, but trying to make sure my kids don't meet an untimely end is a full time job. This full time job doesn't involve hair curlers or mascara.
Instead we should say " sorry if my appearance makes you uncomfortable. My boob sweat is currently making me uncomfortable as well, but I had to sprint to stop my toddler from eating a snail, so we both are going to have to learn to deal."
4. "I'm really sorry to ask but..."
Why and when did asking for help become such a crime. Where the hell did our village go? I tried to do it all once. I caught my house on fire. True story. If Who Wants to be a Millionaire has the phone a friend option, why shouldn't I?
Instead we should say: "I've caught the kitchen on fire. My children are wearing their pants as hats, and I have string cheese in my hair. Can I come over?!"
And there shouldn't be shame to that. The response should be, "as long as you bring wine."
5. "Yes."
I know I'm not alone here in this, I swear the second your child is born the yes monster is born as well. You find yourself agreeing to groom the neighbors dog (you don't own scissors) and bake a cake for your best friend's aunt' 4th wedding (your cake baking abilities do not extend beyond purchasing the pre made kind the day of at Wal mart.) Motherhood is inherently selfless and we all tend to extend that natural tendency to other areas of our lives.
Instead, what you should say mommas, what is OK to say is: "No."
Just this. No explanation, no justification. Give yourself the grace to accept your sacrifices are many and, sometimes it's ok to give to yourself the gift of being a priority.
Take these words of wisdom from a
Friday, October 23, 2015
An Open Apology Letter to My Husband
Once upon a time, two lovely individuals threw back a few too many and ended up pregnant at the courthouse. Classy I know, but go big or go home is our motto. And by "our" I mean mine. My husband is face palming me and dreaming of disinfecting the counters as I type (he is a clean freak. Lord help me).
I cannot pretend to be an expert at marriage. I am knee deep in crayons, broken dreams, dirty diapers, and dirtier children. There are times when my husband, God love him, is second on a good day, and fourth on a bad day. This is the life of a mom with 3 small children. Is it right? Probably not. But in my defense when he is fourth I promise you I am fifth.
So this is my open apology letter to my husband.
1. I'm sorry you come home and the house looked like 58 flying spider monkeys were trapped inside. It was really only a half dozen children under the age of three, but they get angry when they're hungry. And when they're angry I get real scared and start tossing crackers out like I am the star of the Macy's Day Parade. So, basically this is why there are 68 crushed crackers and 4 twizzlers in our air conditioning unit.
2. Speaking of appearance. I'm very, very sorry my underwear are 2 days old, I'm wearing dirty yoga pants, and a shower is just a twinkle in my eye. I know this isn't the woman you married. That woman was clean, stylish, and didn't have a 1 year old assisting in wiping her butt. If you happen to find her pass on this message: run.
3. I'm sorry when you come home I hand you a child and suddenly become Carmen San Diego. Let's hope I am as successful in my hiding techniques as that girl. I don't have a sweet coat or hat, but I am at least currently wearing a bra and semi clean yoga pants.
4. I'm sorry I turn everything into a crock pot meal. I know you never planned to eat 48 meals straight out of a large ceramic bowl. I never planned to loose my sanity or ask a human being to remove crayons from their bottom. So yeah, I can totally cook that filet in the crock pot. Lets toss some ranch dressing on it to be safe though.
5. I'm sorry the "do I have any clean underwear" conversation happens so frequently in our house. I'm trying to save the planet so I make mine last, but I understand your materialistic desire for a fresh pair daily. My heart hurts for your nether region, Therefore, I would like to introduce you to a magical place. It's called the laundry room, and it has more snacks than our pantry.
6. I'm sorry I've turned into such a hermit. I know you love people and being out in world. You are a 6'1 social butterfly. Lately I've really started loving fuzzy socks, frozen pizzas, and my bed a lot more. Here is the thing though: there are SO many kids in my bed, so next time you go out to meet your legitimate human need for basic interaction with other adults could you please take one or two of these tiny humans? They're eating my snacks.
7. I am sorry I loose every single item necessary for basic survival. I know it can be confusing when I call you on my cell phone crying about how I lost my cell phone. I know you get frustrated when I call you and ask you where 35 different kitchen utensils are. Since you have never cooked a meal you may not be my best source of information, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Also, about that time it took me twenty minutes to return home from the store in a town that is five miles long- you see I misplaced the car. The positive thing was I had a cart full of snacks to meet my caloric needs as I wandered around aimlessly while avoiding direct contact with the other customers in the parking lot.
8. I know you do some of your best thinking on the toilet. We have very few boundaries left, but I am sorry I refuse to work on a budget, vacation plan, or go over our cleaning schedule, while you are working on cleaning out your colon. I know this is a point of frustration for you so let's meet in the middle. Once I locate my phone give me a ring next time you find yourself on the porcelain throne and we can make one heck of a grocery list.
Hell I am even open to face timing.
There are more things I can address here but time is short and I've misplaced one of my children.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
I cannot pretend to be an expert at marriage. I am knee deep in crayons, broken dreams, dirty diapers, and dirtier children. There are times when my husband, God love him, is second on a good day, and fourth on a bad day. This is the life of a mom with 3 small children. Is it right? Probably not. But in my defense when he is fourth I promise you I am fifth.
So this is my open apology letter to my husband.
1. I'm sorry you come home and the house looked like 58 flying spider monkeys were trapped inside. It was really only a half dozen children under the age of three, but they get angry when they're hungry. And when they're angry I get real scared and start tossing crackers out like I am the star of the Macy's Day Parade. So, basically this is why there are 68 crushed crackers and 4 twizzlers in our air conditioning unit.
2. Speaking of appearance. I'm very, very sorry my underwear are 2 days old, I'm wearing dirty yoga pants, and a shower is just a twinkle in my eye. I know this isn't the woman you married. That woman was clean, stylish, and didn't have a 1 year old assisting in wiping her butt. If you happen to find her pass on this message: run.
3. I'm sorry when you come home I hand you a child and suddenly become Carmen San Diego. Let's hope I am as successful in my hiding techniques as that girl. I don't have a sweet coat or hat, but I am at least currently wearing a bra and semi clean yoga pants.
4. I'm sorry I turn everything into a crock pot meal. I know you never planned to eat 48 meals straight out of a large ceramic bowl. I never planned to loose my sanity or ask a human being to remove crayons from their bottom. So yeah, I can totally cook that filet in the crock pot. Lets toss some ranch dressing on it to be safe though.
5. I'm sorry the "do I have any clean underwear" conversation happens so frequently in our house. I'm trying to save the planet so I make mine last, but I understand your materialistic desire for a fresh pair daily. My heart hurts for your nether region, Therefore, I would like to introduce you to a magical place. It's called the laundry room, and it has more snacks than our pantry.
6. I'm sorry I've turned into such a hermit. I know you love people and being out in world. You are a 6'1 social butterfly. Lately I've really started loving fuzzy socks, frozen pizzas, and my bed a lot more. Here is the thing though: there are SO many kids in my bed, so next time you go out to meet your legitimate human need for basic interaction with other adults could you please take one or two of these tiny humans? They're eating my snacks.
7. I am sorry I loose every single item necessary for basic survival. I know it can be confusing when I call you on my cell phone crying about how I lost my cell phone. I know you get frustrated when I call you and ask you where 35 different kitchen utensils are. Since you have never cooked a meal you may not be my best source of information, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Also, about that time it took me twenty minutes to return home from the store in a town that is five miles long- you see I misplaced the car. The positive thing was I had a cart full of snacks to meet my caloric needs as I wandered around aimlessly while avoiding direct contact with the other customers in the parking lot.
8. I know you do some of your best thinking on the toilet. We have very few boundaries left, but I am sorry I refuse to work on a budget, vacation plan, or go over our cleaning schedule, while you are working on cleaning out your colon. I know this is a point of frustration for you so let's meet in the middle. Once I locate my phone give me a ring next time you find yourself on the porcelain throne and we can make one heck of a grocery list.
Hell I am even open to face timing.
There are more things I can address here but time is short and I've misplaced one of my children.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Sunday, October 18, 2015
You Aren't Getting Your Body Back
I see the meme on Facebook a lot showing a woman's post baby belly with the caption talking about a tiger earning it's stripes. The response is always overwhelming. All of a sudden all of us ladies are serious cat lovers.
Meow.
But in all seriousness it is an image and quote that clearly hits a nerve with us mommas. Because pregnancy puts your body through the ringer. Motherhood puts your body through the ringer. From the second you see those 2 positive lines you are beautifully secondary. You've given your body to someone else. And you'll never get it back.
Yes I said it. Moms you aren't getting your body back. Ever.
I don't mean that in the sense that you won't loose the weight, or return to your "normal" because you very well will be rocking your old jeans in no time. I am saying this because your body will never be fully your own again. It will be a resting place for sleepy heads, a jungle gym, a launching point for inhuman gymnastic moves, a safe place in sickness, a wonderful corner for story time. Even when they're grown and gone you still won't fully "get your body back". For you see, you lost a bit of your heart. You can't get that back.
I'm nursing my third baby as I write this. His little hand is flexing into me, as his eyes flutter asleep. That sweet hand is flexing into impossible stretched skin. Skin that has housed 3 perfectly imperfect humans. His hand grazes my stretch marks, and belly button that has deflated like a sad old ballon. I am still rocking the lovely line some of us woman get in pregnancy that divides our stomachs in half. Except like everything I do, mine is totally crooked. I can't keep anything straight.
And you know what, that's ok. Because like that line, my path has not been linear. And as I look at this little human snuggled into what most people consider clear imperfections. I don't feel imperfect.
I feel beautiful.
We need to have a serious conversation mommas. About the cost of motherhood: because you'll pay a price. You'll pay in sleepless nights, grey hairs, stretch marks, sagging skin. I come to you a different woman than I was. My hips have widened, my stomach bears the marks of my children, I have a worry line between my eye brow, and bags under eyes. I've gained weight. By societies standards I've paid a price.
I'm so glad I bought in. I have 6 hands that reach for me every single morning, 6 feet that I have the privilege of listening to patter down the hall in their next adventures, three heads that snuggle into this imperfect body at the end of the day, 30 toes I get to squeeze during bath time, 3 children who think I hung the moon. I paid a price. A price in my body, a price in my sanity, a price in my self identity.
And it was the best deal I ever got.
And this girl loves a good coupon.
So you see mommas, you aren't getting your body back.
I can't speak for you all, but I can say I don't want it. I want the body that created life. I want the body that knows the perfect figure 8 rythm to get a fussy baby to sleep. I want the body that knows the exact way to toss her toddler in the air that results in immediate squeals. I want the body that attends impromptu dance parties, the body that is an expert in hide and seek. I want the body that knows sleepless nights, that knows the weight of responsibility that comes with parenthood, that knows the equally overwhelming weight of love that comes with being a mother. I'm not getting my body back. And I don't want it.
Best purchase ever.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Meow.
But in all seriousness it is an image and quote that clearly hits a nerve with us mommas. Because pregnancy puts your body through the ringer. Motherhood puts your body through the ringer. From the second you see those 2 positive lines you are beautifully secondary. You've given your body to someone else. And you'll never get it back.
Yes I said it. Moms you aren't getting your body back. Ever.
I don't mean that in the sense that you won't loose the weight, or return to your "normal" because you very well will be rocking your old jeans in no time. I am saying this because your body will never be fully your own again. It will be a resting place for sleepy heads, a jungle gym, a launching point for inhuman gymnastic moves, a safe place in sickness, a wonderful corner for story time. Even when they're grown and gone you still won't fully "get your body back". For you see, you lost a bit of your heart. You can't get that back.
I'm nursing my third baby as I write this. His little hand is flexing into me, as his eyes flutter asleep. That sweet hand is flexing into impossible stretched skin. Skin that has housed 3 perfectly imperfect humans. His hand grazes my stretch marks, and belly button that has deflated like a sad old ballon. I am still rocking the lovely line some of us woman get in pregnancy that divides our stomachs in half. Except like everything I do, mine is totally crooked. I can't keep anything straight.
And you know what, that's ok. Because like that line, my path has not been linear. And as I look at this little human snuggled into what most people consider clear imperfections. I don't feel imperfect.
I feel beautiful.
We need to have a serious conversation mommas. About the cost of motherhood: because you'll pay a price. You'll pay in sleepless nights, grey hairs, stretch marks, sagging skin. I come to you a different woman than I was. My hips have widened, my stomach bears the marks of my children, I have a worry line between my eye brow, and bags under eyes. I've gained weight. By societies standards I've paid a price.
I'm so glad I bought in. I have 6 hands that reach for me every single morning, 6 feet that I have the privilege of listening to patter down the hall in their next adventures, three heads that snuggle into this imperfect body at the end of the day, 30 toes I get to squeeze during bath time, 3 children who think I hung the moon. I paid a price. A price in my body, a price in my sanity, a price in my self identity.
And it was the best deal I ever got.
And this girl loves a good coupon.
So you see mommas, you aren't getting your body back.
I can't speak for you all, but I can say I don't want it. I want the body that created life. I want the body that knows the perfect figure 8 rythm to get a fussy baby to sleep. I want the body that knows the exact way to toss her toddler in the air that results in immediate squeals. I want the body that attends impromptu dance parties, the body that is an expert in hide and seek. I want the body that knows sleepless nights, that knows the weight of responsibility that comes with parenthood, that knows the equally overwhelming weight of love that comes with being a mother. I'm not getting my body back. And I don't want it.
Best purchase ever.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Notice Them
Life with 3 kids ages 3 and under is messy. It's stressful. It's hard.
Really hard.
You have five million things to juggle and you missed the juggling class. Not to mention your toddler just threw all the balls in the street anyways, So basically you're sol. Welcome to parenthood in a nutshell.
My house is a mess, my kids are a mess, and honestly I'm the biggest mess of them all. Meara requested I please take a shower last night: from the mouth of babes.
But today mommas I'm going to be that super annoying mom you want to punch and ask you to notice the little things.
Notice you're almost 2 year old uneven gait as she runs to her next adventure. She's covered in dirt and dreams. She drives you crazy half the time. One day her stride will be even. One day she won't be running towards you but away. And that's ok because If we do this job right she should run away. She should chase her dreams. She should be running after life without a backwards glance. But right now she is running towards you, her lopsided gait often interrupted by a yell or fall. Right now you are her world. Right now your arms are the landing zone for her flight. So mommas notice her. Soak her in. She won't be little for more than a blink of an eye.
Meara asks me "what it is" at least 20 times a day. The questions are incessant. Basically I'm like Webster except I don't know what I'm talking about, and lie a lot. The constant questions can be really wearing. I feel like I'm on Oprah, except it isn't Oprah's favorite thing episode, more like when Oprah interviews serial killers. But today mommas notice those questions and take a minute to answer them genuinely. Right now that 3 year old thinks you hung the moon. They think you have the answer to every question. You are all knowing. Soon she won't come to me with every question. Soon she will figure it out on her own. And after that one day she will realize I don't have all the answers. She will realize I too, can be wrong and uncertain. But right now that little girl thinks I know everything and she wants me to take the time to tell her about it. So mommas, listen. Listen to the questions. Listen to the chatter. Listen to the mispronounced words. Even listen to the cries. Listen to them while you have the privilege of being their greatest audience.
My youngest is 2 months old today. He decided to celebrate by absolutely refusing to be put down. It would be comical from an outside standpoint. I mean the second he is put down waterworks start and the second I come into his blurry range of vision it immediately stops. And momma's I am tired. I'm hungry. We've already established I need a shower due to the advice of my 3 year old. I want a minute to myself. I want a minute to remember what it was like before my identity became irrevocably entangled with the existance of my children's lives. A minute to remember what my heart felt like before it beat for someone elses. But right now I am soaking him in. I'm noticing his sweet little wrist rolls, and the way he kicks his legs out when he is mad. I'm noticing how his little eyes light up when he sees me, how he snuggles into me after he nurses, milky smiles and contended sighs, like he doesn't have a care in the world. I am going to take a second to notice his ten tiny toes and how perfectly his body fits into mine as we pace. Because if there's anything motherhood has taught me it is that it's all so fleeting. He will be this small for another 2 seconds before it is his little face asking me "what it is."
So today mommas soak them up. Put down the phone, turn off the tv. Chase them, answer their questions, fill their sippy cups 10 million times, help them get their shoes on another 20 million times. Take a second to soak it in.
Because this is just a season. It gives way to other seasons, other lessons, other adventures together. But they won't stay little for long. So notice them.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Saturday, October 10, 2015
My New Budget
I know some of us moms mayyyyyy occasionally spend frivolously at locations such as target, Walmart, Amazon prime: 2 day shipping?! Well yes, maybe I actually do need 4 pair of panty hose, 3 can openers, and a can of aqua spray by Tuesday, thank you very much, and occasionally a trip to the liquor store. Can we talk about the emotional turmoil toddlers inflict? Sometimes momma needs a glass of red wine to dull the pain. And memories.
But I'm here to stop the madness. We do not need a meat dehydrator or 12 packs of sticky buns. I don't care if you have a coupon!!! And the only thing you've dehydrated lately is yourself as you cried into your wine. We are already doing the jobs of these products. We need to save our money for important things, like therapy and botox for the wrinkles our children cause!
So mommas, here are some things we can STOP purchasing!
1. A vacuum. I personally, this week alone have eaten off the floor 45 goldfish crackers, half a hot dog bun, and some smooshed carpet cheese. My toddler has eaten all the dirt particles she can locate, some dryer lint, and some old canned corn. The dog has taken care of the rest. Vaccuming clearly is for the childless. Snack as needed and let your blessings from heaven, and the dog take care of the rest.
2. Soap. Now I know I'm losing some of you on this one. You glance over at your child. They're covered in dog hair encrusted play dough, broken dreams, and string cheese. You think to yourself, but my kid smells of old socks and urine. I say to you, within 4 minutes of being awake your child will be covered in peanut butter and riding the guinea pig. Lets just accept our losing battles. Soap is for childless people ages 18 and older. End of story.
3. All clothing. Because I personally go through like 3 outfits minimum per child by 8:30am and by 9 I glance over to catch sight of a butt cheek leaping off the furniture with what sounds like someone shouting war cries for their home land. Why are we spending money on this?! Clearly our children appreciate a good breeze on their bottoms and sand in their orifices. Who are we to deny them this joy?
4. All fruits and vegetables. I see you have baked a lovely vegetable quiche with a side of quione and organic stewed beets. I don't know if you noticed your children crying in the corner, eating the dry wall, and requesting a hot dog, but they clearly seem to be in some sort of medical distress. I really hope you are cpr certified. Lets let this battle go for now and go ahead and just slide that toddler a nugget under the table. Bonus points if you wink. Next time you consider spending 10 dollars on organic edame remember the joy on your child's face when you handed then a pack of Scooby snacks. Just saying.
5. All of the ridiculously expensive toys. Listen I think it's fabulous your kid has a $200.00 doll who has a more impressive passport and wardrobe than I do, but is it really necessary? My kids are currently eating mud and playing with some dirty socks: just as happy and much cheaper.
6. The five million classes you enroll your little nugget of love in. I'm not knocking activities. They're awesome. My little nugget is attending dance. We are praying she doesn't get the ax after her last Shakira impression, but so far so good. I'm talking about the kids who are enrolled in dance, gymnastics, french, public speaking, basket weaving, and masonry at the age of 2. You know who has a baby genius? Probably not you. So save your money, and have some fun with your kiddo while they still believe you when you tell them you have no idea where their beautiful, bedazzled, talking, doll from hell went.
Now these are just some small money saving ideas. It might be wiser to coupon, cut the wine, and stop buying children's programs in desperation from Netflix.
Either way you choose to budget, this momma has your back.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
But I'm here to stop the madness. We do not need a meat dehydrator or 12 packs of sticky buns. I don't care if you have a coupon!!! And the only thing you've dehydrated lately is yourself as you cried into your wine. We are already doing the jobs of these products. We need to save our money for important things, like therapy and botox for the wrinkles our children cause!
So mommas, here are some things we can STOP purchasing!
1. A vacuum. I personally, this week alone have eaten off the floor 45 goldfish crackers, half a hot dog bun, and some smooshed carpet cheese. My toddler has eaten all the dirt particles she can locate, some dryer lint, and some old canned corn. The dog has taken care of the rest. Vaccuming clearly is for the childless. Snack as needed and let your blessings from heaven, and the dog take care of the rest.
2. Soap. Now I know I'm losing some of you on this one. You glance over at your child. They're covered in dog hair encrusted play dough, broken dreams, and string cheese. You think to yourself, but my kid smells of old socks and urine. I say to you, within 4 minutes of being awake your child will be covered in peanut butter and riding the guinea pig. Lets just accept our losing battles. Soap is for childless people ages 18 and older. End of story.
3. All clothing. Because I personally go through like 3 outfits minimum per child by 8:30am and by 9 I glance over to catch sight of a butt cheek leaping off the furniture with what sounds like someone shouting war cries for their home land. Why are we spending money on this?! Clearly our children appreciate a good breeze on their bottoms and sand in their orifices. Who are we to deny them this joy?
4. All fruits and vegetables. I see you have baked a lovely vegetable quiche with a side of quione and organic stewed beets. I don't know if you noticed your children crying in the corner, eating the dry wall, and requesting a hot dog, but they clearly seem to be in some sort of medical distress. I really hope you are cpr certified. Lets let this battle go for now and go ahead and just slide that toddler a nugget under the table. Bonus points if you wink. Next time you consider spending 10 dollars on organic edame remember the joy on your child's face when you handed then a pack of Scooby snacks. Just saying.
5. All of the ridiculously expensive toys. Listen I think it's fabulous your kid has a $200.00 doll who has a more impressive passport and wardrobe than I do, but is it really necessary? My kids are currently eating mud and playing with some dirty socks: just as happy and much cheaper.
6. The five million classes you enroll your little nugget of love in. I'm not knocking activities. They're awesome. My little nugget is attending dance. We are praying she doesn't get the ax after her last Shakira impression, but so far so good. I'm talking about the kids who are enrolled in dance, gymnastics, french, public speaking, basket weaving, and masonry at the age of 2. You know who has a baby genius? Probably not you. So save your money, and have some fun with your kiddo while they still believe you when you tell them you have no idea where their beautiful, bedazzled, talking, doll from hell went.
Now these are just some small money saving ideas. It might be wiser to coupon, cut the wine, and stop buying children's programs in desperation from Netflix.
Either way you choose to budget, this momma has your back.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Here is to Not Killing Each Other!
Happy Anniversary, husband of mine!
Here is to 4 years of marriage. I wish someone had snapped a classy picture of us at the courthouse(by classy I mean I was pregnant and already developing my love of stretchy clothing), but I guess we will survive without that precious moment in time captured. We have survived a hell of a lot more.
In 4 years we have moved cross country leaving everything and everyone we knew behind, had major career changes, bought houses and cars, had a lot of kids: I can't make a pot roast for the life of me, and you tried to fry rice without cooking it that one time, but kids we can do.
And by do, I mean winging it.
We have no village. We are our own. I'm no pocahontas but I do what I can.
It has not been easy. It's been very, very hard.
Remember that one time I caught the house on fire? My bad.
Oh my Lord has it been messy. You and I have ridden the waves, created the waves, and full on drowned in the waves together. You have seen me at best, and seen my at my absolute and total worst. (Contrary to popular belief I am not always as classy as I was back in the pregnant courthouse wedding days.)
Throughout it all we've stubbornly ridden the tide that is our ever transitioning life. You are my better half. You are my worse half. You are my anchor. But at the end of the day you are my Andrew.
So here is to us: messy, imperfect, tired, committed. I loved the man you were 6 years ago, but I love the man you are today so much more.
We are not perfect people, I won't even say the cliche that we are perfect for each other either, because we screw it up sometimes too. I will say we have been worth the fight. You're my best friend. You always will be. Thanks for loving me just the way I am.
Ps. You're on your own for dinner tonight. Ain't nobody got time for that. And there is a pretty high statistical chance at this point in the week you have no clean underwear.
Xoxo
Thursday, October 1, 2015
My What Pretty Teeth You Have
Once upon a time I made the fateful decision to attempt a dental check up. This decision will more than likely cost me at least 3 more years of therapy bills. For me, not her, after that performance kid clearly has a future in acting. She can pay for her own therapy. Join me for this little adventure friends. A good time was not had by anyone.
*I would like to preface this by saying this is NOT a slam against the dentist or dental workers who were very, very nice. When life gives you lemons you cannot use them to construct a 3 story condominium. You can however use these lemons to clean and disinfect the tears, and the remains of my 3 year old daughters bladder which have both been shed on their once clean floor. And the boogers. Because shrieking also produces boogers.
There have been many times I've looked like an idiot. There have been many times my kids have melted down and caused strangers to question whether I was related to Jerry Springer. There have been many times I have slowly taken two steps back from my children and glanced pointedly at whatever other adult was the closest so as to make it appear they were the owner of said child.
Yeah, that kid screaming her head off. Not mine. Not it. Do not claim. Do not pass go. But girl, collect the $200.00 and RUN.
Today I pretended to be responsible and attempted to take my 3 year old to the dentist. It was a short lived trip that ended in me requesting laughing gas and a prescription for pain relievers. I may not have been physically injured but I have pain. I have pain in my heart, pain in my head, and pain in my shins from a vicious toddler kick.
It began innocently enough. Meara knew we were on to big things because I put a bra on. I dusted off my finest pair of stretchy pants and busted out my dry shampoo. These 2 girls were about to hit the town: or about to head a block away in our minivan headed for despair with a side dose of betrayal, either way.
The waiting room went well enough. I filled out paperwork incorrectly. Meara complimented me on my pink pen. It was blue. This was clearly the foreshadowing of future events, but when you're about to be hit by the freight train that is a full blown toddler melt down it's best to be ignorant.
Then the fateful words were said: Meara, it's your turn. Turn for what you ask? A simple dental check up, or your turn to travel into the depraved depths of hell?
B. THE ANSWER IS B.
We made it through the door. I let out a sigh. Maybe this won't be so bad I thought to myself. Look at me adulting my small child, I thought to myself. Look at our matching boots, how cute are we, I thought to myself.
Cue the beginnings of inhuman screams. I repeat inhuman shrieks.
So, at this point I begin nervously laughing. And sweating. A lot. The dental hygentist were extremely nice. They tried to calm her nerves, give her toys, talked patiently to her. But listen when you're facing down death, a stuffed teddy bear is no consolation prize. I didn't raise a fool. Just someone who acts like it.
At this point I'm dragging her limp and lifeless body down the hall. She's basically at deaths door. Her only functioning organ is her lungs, which she is using to screech NOOOOOOO. We make it to the x ray room.
Cue what can only be compared to as the apocalypse.
My nervous laughter has turned to pants and avoiding direct eye contact, which is mutual. No one wants to be a part of our current train wreck.
At this point the very nice dentist pokes his head out the door. Meara has now gone into convulsions. Mamas I'm CPR trained but I was too busy eying the laughing gas to adequately remember the steps. Not to mention due to the gasping of breath, I may have needed to start with the Heimlich. Clearly she had an airway obstruction. (Upon further inspection the only obstruction she had was a fierce sense of betrayal in her broken heart.)
The very nice dentist suggests we try again in 6 months. We make eye contact for .03 seconds before my crazy mama stare makes him uncomfortable and he has to glance away.
I glance down at my first born. She seems to be in a death roll with an unseen attacker.
I laugh nervously, sweat drips down my nose. Or tears. Maybe both.
We very slowly, lets's be honest here for a minute, we both run to the door. It was a very short jog since we had only made it 5 feet into the exam area before the Dr ever so kindly suggested we come back another day.
As we reach the waiting room, I draw my courage and look up. Cue the crickets and horrified stares of all the other waiting patients. Meara kindly looks at the closest waiting patient and wisely advises "don't do it"
Um yeah don't do it. It will end in tears and broken dreams. It will end in embarrassment and wet pants. It will end in a CPS visit and rotting teeth.
It will not end well.
Love and light from another mom in the struggle.
Is it beer:30?!
*I would like to preface this by saying this is NOT a slam against the dentist or dental workers who were very, very nice. When life gives you lemons you cannot use them to construct a 3 story condominium. You can however use these lemons to clean and disinfect the tears, and the remains of my 3 year old daughters bladder which have both been shed on their once clean floor. And the boogers. Because shrieking also produces boogers.
There have been many times I've looked like an idiot. There have been many times my kids have melted down and caused strangers to question whether I was related to Jerry Springer. There have been many times I have slowly taken two steps back from my children and glanced pointedly at whatever other adult was the closest so as to make it appear they were the owner of said child.
Yeah, that kid screaming her head off. Not mine. Not it. Do not claim. Do not pass go. But girl, collect the $200.00 and RUN.
Today I pretended to be responsible and attempted to take my 3 year old to the dentist. It was a short lived trip that ended in me requesting laughing gas and a prescription for pain relievers. I may not have been physically injured but I have pain. I have pain in my heart, pain in my head, and pain in my shins from a vicious toddler kick.
It began innocently enough. Meara knew we were on to big things because I put a bra on. I dusted off my finest pair of stretchy pants and busted out my dry shampoo. These 2 girls were about to hit the town: or about to head a block away in our minivan headed for despair with a side dose of betrayal, either way.
The waiting room went well enough. I filled out paperwork incorrectly. Meara complimented me on my pink pen. It was blue. This was clearly the foreshadowing of future events, but when you're about to be hit by the freight train that is a full blown toddler melt down it's best to be ignorant.
Then the fateful words were said: Meara, it's your turn. Turn for what you ask? A simple dental check up, or your turn to travel into the depraved depths of hell?
B. THE ANSWER IS B.
We made it through the door. I let out a sigh. Maybe this won't be so bad I thought to myself. Look at me adulting my small child, I thought to myself. Look at our matching boots, how cute are we, I thought to myself.
Cue the beginnings of inhuman screams. I repeat inhuman shrieks.
So, at this point I begin nervously laughing. And sweating. A lot. The dental hygentist were extremely nice. They tried to calm her nerves, give her toys, talked patiently to her. But listen when you're facing down death, a stuffed teddy bear is no consolation prize. I didn't raise a fool. Just someone who acts like it.
At this point I'm dragging her limp and lifeless body down the hall. She's basically at deaths door. Her only functioning organ is her lungs, which she is using to screech NOOOOOOO. We make it to the x ray room.
Cue what can only be compared to as the apocalypse.
My nervous laughter has turned to pants and avoiding direct eye contact, which is mutual. No one wants to be a part of our current train wreck.
At this point the very nice dentist pokes his head out the door. Meara has now gone into convulsions. Mamas I'm CPR trained but I was too busy eying the laughing gas to adequately remember the steps. Not to mention due to the gasping of breath, I may have needed to start with the Heimlich. Clearly she had an airway obstruction. (Upon further inspection the only obstruction she had was a fierce sense of betrayal in her broken heart.)
The very nice dentist suggests we try again in 6 months. We make eye contact for .03 seconds before my crazy mama stare makes him uncomfortable and he has to glance away.
I glance down at my first born. She seems to be in a death roll with an unseen attacker.
I laugh nervously, sweat drips down my nose. Or tears. Maybe both.
We very slowly, lets's be honest here for a minute, we both run to the door. It was a very short jog since we had only made it 5 feet into the exam area before the Dr ever so kindly suggested we come back another day.
As we reach the waiting room, I draw my courage and look up. Cue the crickets and horrified stares of all the other waiting patients. Meara kindly looks at the closest waiting patient and wisely advises "don't do it"
Um yeah don't do it. It will end in tears and broken dreams. It will end in embarrassment and wet pants. It will end in a CPS visit and rotting teeth.
It will not end well.
Love and light from another mom in the struggle.
Is it beer:30?!
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Days Like These
Momma said there'd be days like these.
Momma said there'd be days like these. Long days, hard days, days full of tears, and doubt, tantrums, and never ending trouble. Days where frustration and exhaustion rule. Days where you just try to survive. Days where you question your own ability to really "do this", where you're sure you've screwed it up. Permanently.
Momma said there'd be days like these. Sweet days, slow days. Days full of snuggles, laughter, kisses, and tickle fights. Days where there's nothing sweeter than the smell of that happy baby in the nape of your neck. Days where you get to watch the magic of childhood unfold. Days that end with dirty, happy, children. Whose streaked faces tell the story of their adventures. We won't always be pirates searching for treasure, explorers conquering mountains, princesses attending balls. There won't always be days like this.
Motherhood has brought me some of the best moments. It has also brought me to my knees.
On my knees praying for patience, praying for guidance, praying for a break. Just praying.
On my knees with sick babies waiting for the next round of illness to rock their sweet little body, while it rocked my heart just as much. On my knees riding out the waves of fierce and startling adult like anger that comes with a frustrated child. On my knees eye level with that angry and frustrated baby willing for the grace to use this moment to teach and not harm. On my knees with budgets, bills, stress and worry.
On my knees rocking.
On my knees holding.
On my knees laughing.
On my knees pretending and exploring.
On my knees running my hand through that sweet head of hair while they tell me about their day.
On my knees reading stories in silly voices, while little babies shriek.
On my knees thanking God that I get to be their mother, thanking God that they're healthy. Thanking God my biggest problems are someone else's blessings.
Motherhood has certainly brought me to my knees.
For you see, Momma did said there would be days like this. Hard, happy days. Days where the tears are intermingled with giggles.
And I'm on my knees right now living these messy, imperfect days.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle.
Momma said there'd be days like these. Long days, hard days, days full of tears, and doubt, tantrums, and never ending trouble. Days where frustration and exhaustion rule. Days where you just try to survive. Days where you question your own ability to really "do this", where you're sure you've screwed it up. Permanently.
Momma said there'd be days like these. Sweet days, slow days. Days full of snuggles, laughter, kisses, and tickle fights. Days where there's nothing sweeter than the smell of that happy baby in the nape of your neck. Days where you get to watch the magic of childhood unfold. Days that end with dirty, happy, children. Whose streaked faces tell the story of their adventures. We won't always be pirates searching for treasure, explorers conquering mountains, princesses attending balls. There won't always be days like this.
Motherhood has brought me some of the best moments. It has also brought me to my knees.
On my knees praying for patience, praying for guidance, praying for a break. Just praying.
On my knees with sick babies waiting for the next round of illness to rock their sweet little body, while it rocked my heart just as much. On my knees riding out the waves of fierce and startling adult like anger that comes with a frustrated child. On my knees eye level with that angry and frustrated baby willing for the grace to use this moment to teach and not harm. On my knees with budgets, bills, stress and worry.
On my knees rocking.
On my knees holding.
On my knees laughing.
On my knees pretending and exploring.
On my knees running my hand through that sweet head of hair while they tell me about their day.
On my knees reading stories in silly voices, while little babies shriek.
On my knees thanking God that I get to be their mother, thanking God that they're healthy. Thanking God my biggest problems are someone else's blessings.
Motherhood has certainly brought me to my knees.
For you see, Momma did said there would be days like this. Hard, happy days. Days where the tears are intermingled with giggles.
And I'm on my knees right now living these messy, imperfect days.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle.
Monday, September 28, 2015
Life Lessons:Toddler Style
My children are my greatest blessings. They've taught me so many things. They've taught me what unconditional love is. They've taught me what it's like to go shopping with your pants on backwards. They've taught me that it is ok to say the words "we do not put puffy paint in our sister's underwear".
So, so many lessons, that I've decided to try to sum up some of my greatest lessons learned from my kids. These are deep y'all. Our kids are, after all, the future. So here it goes!
Lessons I've learned from my children:
1. One man's trash is another man's treasure.
I personally would love a new wardrobe, piece of jewelry, or a dust buster. Please sweet baby Jesus someone get me a dust buster. Have y'all met my children?! There are french fries from 1992 under my bed. Scouts honor. It's a vintage piece.
Audrey on the other hand is saying a Hail Mary and getting herself right with the Lord everytime she finds some more of that delicious petrified cereal from the floor board of the minivan. Nothing says treasure better than decomposing snacks.
To each their own.
2. Actions speak louder than words.
Sure, we toss around the word love, but nothing says love more than selflessly removing your pull up during nap time. Clearly my child is trying to lessen my load. Once less diaper to change. Also, since she relieved herself in her bedding that is also once less child to coerce in a failed attempt to potty train. So thank you dear sweet child for that. I love you too.
3. Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Sure that one time you took off your pants, shoved them up the gutter, and tried to ride the dog while your butt cheeks and princess tiara were gloriously aglow was kind of funny
But the second time was not.
Also, I get that you need to be prepared for anything, but you hoodlums are consuming 18 full meals a day and 32 snacks. So why do I keep finding crackers in your underwear? I'm on to yall. And word of advice: best place to stash food is the laundry room. I for one have no experience in this, but I would assume cracker related chaffing is not pleasant.
4. There is no use crying over spilled milk.
These are wise words. Why cry when you can drink directly from the floor.
5. Don't put all your eggs in one basket.
Um no. Don't. That's a waste of a basket. Baskets serve far greater purposes. Where else would one unravel an entire roll of toilet paper or empty out the box of tampons? Where else would one sit while contemplating the depths of depravity that is the hypocrisy of sharing? What else could one use as a protective head device while trying to sit on an unruly sibling?!
Don't you dare put all your eggs in one basket: or any of your eggs for that matter. Eggs are for baking cakes for your children whenever they demand- which is right now. Please go feed your starving children. You removed the snacks from their pants and they are desperate.
6. The grass is always greener on the other side.
Because the neighbors don't have kids. And their lawn is on point.
My lawn, however is fertilized by toddlers defecating for fun. So yeah....it's actually greener.
7. Ignorance is bliss.
Because once upon a time I was ignorant and hopeful enough to assume your sounds of silence meant you were enjoying each others company. Now I know the bitter truth. Silence means you're giving your sister a swirly and have painted yourself blue with the nail polish in order to better reconnect with your ancestors. I cannot take your life but i can take your freedom....because you're grounded for the next 17 years. At the age of 2. You may not cry over the spilled milk but I foresee some crying now.
8. You are what you eat.
Because that one time you ate nothing but raisins for three days you turned a little purple and seemed slightly dehydrated. Luckily, after you had explosive diahrea for 4 days that caused your father and I to seek therapy before we even attempted to seek medical attention for you, you returned to normal.
However, we are still finding stray raisins from "the incident" so perhaps we shouldn't repeat that little food experience.
This list will continue expanding. But spread this prolific knowledge while you can!
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
So, so many lessons, that I've decided to try to sum up some of my greatest lessons learned from my kids. These are deep y'all. Our kids are, after all, the future. So here it goes!
Lessons I've learned from my children:
1. One man's trash is another man's treasure.
I personally would love a new wardrobe, piece of jewelry, or a dust buster. Please sweet baby Jesus someone get me a dust buster. Have y'all met my children?! There are french fries from 1992 under my bed. Scouts honor. It's a vintage piece.
Audrey on the other hand is saying a Hail Mary and getting herself right with the Lord everytime she finds some more of that delicious petrified cereal from the floor board of the minivan. Nothing says treasure better than decomposing snacks.
To each their own.
2. Actions speak louder than words.
Sure, we toss around the word love, but nothing says love more than selflessly removing your pull up during nap time. Clearly my child is trying to lessen my load. Once less diaper to change. Also, since she relieved herself in her bedding that is also once less child to coerce in a failed attempt to potty train. So thank you dear sweet child for that. I love you too.
3. Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Sure that one time you took off your pants, shoved them up the gutter, and tried to ride the dog while your butt cheeks and princess tiara were gloriously aglow was kind of funny
But the second time was not.
Also, I get that you need to be prepared for anything, but you hoodlums are consuming 18 full meals a day and 32 snacks. So why do I keep finding crackers in your underwear? I'm on to yall. And word of advice: best place to stash food is the laundry room. I for one have no experience in this, but I would assume cracker related chaffing is not pleasant.
4. There is no use crying over spilled milk.
These are wise words. Why cry when you can drink directly from the floor.
5. Don't put all your eggs in one basket.
Um no. Don't. That's a waste of a basket. Baskets serve far greater purposes. Where else would one unravel an entire roll of toilet paper or empty out the box of tampons? Where else would one sit while contemplating the depths of depravity that is the hypocrisy of sharing? What else could one use as a protective head device while trying to sit on an unruly sibling?!
Don't you dare put all your eggs in one basket: or any of your eggs for that matter. Eggs are for baking cakes for your children whenever they demand- which is right now. Please go feed your starving children. You removed the snacks from their pants and they are desperate.
6. The grass is always greener on the other side.
Because the neighbors don't have kids. And their lawn is on point.
My lawn, however is fertilized by toddlers defecating for fun. So yeah....it's actually greener.
7. Ignorance is bliss.
Because once upon a time I was ignorant and hopeful enough to assume your sounds of silence meant you were enjoying each others company. Now I know the bitter truth. Silence means you're giving your sister a swirly and have painted yourself blue with the nail polish in order to better reconnect with your ancestors. I cannot take your life but i can take your freedom....because you're grounded for the next 17 years. At the age of 2. You may not cry over the spilled milk but I foresee some crying now.
8. You are what you eat.
Because that one time you ate nothing but raisins for three days you turned a little purple and seemed slightly dehydrated. Luckily, after you had explosive diahrea for 4 days that caused your father and I to seek therapy before we even attempted to seek medical attention for you, you returned to normal.
However, we are still finding stray raisins from "the incident" so perhaps we shouldn't repeat that little food experience.
This list will continue expanding. But spread this prolific knowledge while you can!
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Monday, September 21, 2015
Pinterest Problems
Lately I've been perusing Pinterest. By perusing I mean searching recipes and crafts I'll never attempt while my chocolate covered kids wrestle each other in the yard with Reba MacEntire playing in the background. (Good Lord I do love Reba!)
Here's your one chance Fancy, don't let me down: I'm going to need you to construct an end table out of doileys, string cheese, and misguided faith. If you don't complete it, this momma's gonna move uptown.
Or buy it on etsy.
I've noticed they have a lot of 21 day challenges. Many of them are geared towards moms. In just 21 days you can systematically clean your pantry or laundry room, replace all your window screens, and successfully complete your own organ transplant using only pipe cleaners! You can also loose 25lbs and teach your kids french. Bonjour!
True story. It's on pinterest. And everything on Pinterest is totally legit...just ask my husband about dinner last week. He will agree.
I've decided to make my own challenge. I lasted 2 days in the clean eating challenge(mamma NEEDED her doritos), I couldn't decipher the language in the fitness challenge(you mean bend and snap isn't a fitness routine?!) And I didn't even attempt the cleaning challenge. One look at my laundry room had me calling uncle and grabbing the wine.
Therefore, I created this 5 day challenge for all my other momma's in the struggle.
Deep breaths ladies. We can do this.
Day 1: Put your pants on. Do they zip? Damn that's amazing! You go girl. Don't worry if they dont. As mothers it's important to be prepared. Those of us in yoga pants will be the first to outrun the mom in the stilletos and pencil skirt in the event of a freak bear attack. Survival of the fittest y'all. Praise Jesus that I am wearing these 3 day old stretch pants because bear attacks are a legitimate threat out here in western Kansas. Bonus points if they aren't backwards!
Day 2: Locate your children. Hide. Immediately. Preferably hide in a location that has running water, cable TV, and snacks. They found you? Unfortunate. Truly unfortunate. Revert to plan B: Callioux and lucky charms. Facebook your kids "eating" oatmeal and creating yarn art first. After you've cleaned oatmeal out of the air conditioning unit (raising over achievers here) and untied the dogs from the toilet bowl (who knew yarn had had that tensile strength?!) Proceed with your day.
Day 3: Make a long list of every thing you hope to accomplish in your life. Bonus points if it's written in crayon or on Toy Story stationary. Sky is the limit here ladies! Don't hold back: you want to make a 3 foot cake that looks exactly like Bill Clinton - write it down! Is your goal to promote world peace? Write it down! Have you always wanted to go Vegan? Put that on the list!!! Have you been eyeing those pants you've had in your closet since 2002? Sure you haven't worn them since you attended Britney Spear's concert in your Sketchers, but now is not a time to doubt. It is a time to dream! Once your list is complete, read through it. Visualize yourself accomplishing these goals (I read that on a pinterest. Once again it makes it legit.) As you visualize please ignore all outside distractions. Is a child pooping behind the curtains? Is another one creating wall art with your last tube of lipstick? If so I do not care! Focus, people focus. Visualize Bill Clinton in his frosted glory.
Ok, now that that is done please cross off all things written on your list. Lets be real: that was fun, but your kid eats rocks. Its time to get realistic.Edit it to say your one goal is to wear pants while checking the mail. This year.
Mission accomplished! Another day of success!
Day 4: Ok now I know this is going to sound pretty ambitious but what are goals for?! Todays challenge is to take a shower. I realize it's been several days since you've attempted this, but girl today is your day!!!! Chuck those barbie dolls, bath crayons, and the Elmo loofah out. Dust off your razor. Find a bar of soap that isn't in the shape of a jungle animal and go to town! Please ignore the shrieks and cries of your children. It's just their spirits you are crushing by not inviting them to participate.
Day 5: You know who doesn't get enough appreciation? Your husband! Todays goal is a simple one. Have a home cooked meal ready for him when he arrives home this evening.
Mommas, home cooked doesn't have to mean it was cooked by you!
Step 1: call Pizza Hut
Step 2: Anxiously await the delivery.
Step 3: Set the table. Opt for paper plates because let's be real, you won't wash those dishes.
Step 4: When the pizza arrives put it on a pan and throw away the box.
Step 5: Place your pizza making ingredients in strategic locations so as to make it appear that you actually cooked said meal.
Step 6: Greet husband in your best yoga pants and bask in the glory of your meal.
If you're one of those ladies (like myself) who cook everything in a crock pot go ahead and chop up the pizza and stick it in there. It's important when lying about your home cooked meal that you stay consistent so as to not alert your husband.
Alright ladies. Take a deep breath. We did it. Made it all five days. You should be cleaned, refreshed, and on your way to gaining 5lbs of pizza weight. Glad I could take this journey with y'all.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Here's your one chance Fancy, don't let me down: I'm going to need you to construct an end table out of doileys, string cheese, and misguided faith. If you don't complete it, this momma's gonna move uptown.
Or buy it on etsy.
I've noticed they have a lot of 21 day challenges. Many of them are geared towards moms. In just 21 days you can systematically clean your pantry or laundry room, replace all your window screens, and successfully complete your own organ transplant using only pipe cleaners! You can also loose 25lbs and teach your kids french. Bonjour!
True story. It's on pinterest. And everything on Pinterest is totally legit...just ask my husband about dinner last week. He will agree.
I've decided to make my own challenge. I lasted 2 days in the clean eating challenge(mamma NEEDED her doritos), I couldn't decipher the language in the fitness challenge(you mean bend and snap isn't a fitness routine?!) And I didn't even attempt the cleaning challenge. One look at my laundry room had me calling uncle and grabbing the wine.
Therefore, I created this 5 day challenge for all my other momma's in the struggle.
Deep breaths ladies. We can do this.
Day 1: Put your pants on. Do they zip? Damn that's amazing! You go girl. Don't worry if they dont. As mothers it's important to be prepared. Those of us in yoga pants will be the first to outrun the mom in the stilletos and pencil skirt in the event of a freak bear attack. Survival of the fittest y'all. Praise Jesus that I am wearing these 3 day old stretch pants because bear attacks are a legitimate threat out here in western Kansas. Bonus points if they aren't backwards!
Day 2: Locate your children. Hide. Immediately. Preferably hide in a location that has running water, cable TV, and snacks. They found you? Unfortunate. Truly unfortunate. Revert to plan B: Callioux and lucky charms. Facebook your kids "eating" oatmeal and creating yarn art first. After you've cleaned oatmeal out of the air conditioning unit (raising over achievers here) and untied the dogs from the toilet bowl (who knew yarn had had that tensile strength?!) Proceed with your day.
Day 3: Make a long list of every thing you hope to accomplish in your life. Bonus points if it's written in crayon or on Toy Story stationary. Sky is the limit here ladies! Don't hold back: you want to make a 3 foot cake that looks exactly like Bill Clinton - write it down! Is your goal to promote world peace? Write it down! Have you always wanted to go Vegan? Put that on the list!!! Have you been eyeing those pants you've had in your closet since 2002? Sure you haven't worn them since you attended Britney Spear's concert in your Sketchers, but now is not a time to doubt. It is a time to dream! Once your list is complete, read through it. Visualize yourself accomplishing these goals (I read that on a pinterest. Once again it makes it legit.) As you visualize please ignore all outside distractions. Is a child pooping behind the curtains? Is another one creating wall art with your last tube of lipstick? If so I do not care! Focus, people focus. Visualize Bill Clinton in his frosted glory.
Ok, now that that is done please cross off all things written on your list. Lets be real: that was fun, but your kid eats rocks. Its time to get realistic.Edit it to say your one goal is to wear pants while checking the mail. This year.
Mission accomplished! Another day of success!
Day 4: Ok now I know this is going to sound pretty ambitious but what are goals for?! Todays challenge is to take a shower. I realize it's been several days since you've attempted this, but girl today is your day!!!! Chuck those barbie dolls, bath crayons, and the Elmo loofah out. Dust off your razor. Find a bar of soap that isn't in the shape of a jungle animal and go to town! Please ignore the shrieks and cries of your children. It's just their spirits you are crushing by not inviting them to participate.
Day 5: You know who doesn't get enough appreciation? Your husband! Todays goal is a simple one. Have a home cooked meal ready for him when he arrives home this evening.
Mommas, home cooked doesn't have to mean it was cooked by you!
Step 1: call Pizza Hut
Step 2: Anxiously await the delivery.
Step 3: Set the table. Opt for paper plates because let's be real, you won't wash those dishes.
Step 4: When the pizza arrives put it on a pan and throw away the box.
Step 5: Place your pizza making ingredients in strategic locations so as to make it appear that you actually cooked said meal.
Step 6: Greet husband in your best yoga pants and bask in the glory of your meal.
If you're one of those ladies (like myself) who cook everything in a crock pot go ahead and chop up the pizza and stick it in there. It's important when lying about your home cooked meal that you stay consistent so as to not alert your husband.
Alright ladies. Take a deep breath. We did it. Made it all five days. You should be cleaned, refreshed, and on your way to gaining 5lbs of pizza weight. Glad I could take this journey with y'all.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Riding the Waves
Sullivan was having a hard time tonight which therefore meant I was as well. I know the phrase "if momma ain't happy, nobody is happy" is popular but in reality it should be "If baby ain't happy everyone else is envisioning packing up 12 pair of underwear, 4 pair of sweatpants, the spice girls greatest hits, and heading for the hills". Please picture the large white minivan peeling out leaving burnt rubber and goldfish crackers in it's wake.
I know these moments are fleeting.
This struggle - as intense as it feels in the moment- is really just that. Only a moment: only a drop in an ocean. We ride the waves together, sometimes crashing to the surface, other times rocking gentle against the shore.
Like the waves persistent crashes I find myself rocking and often listening to the rythmic creak of the chair. I know one day I will no longer have the rythm of this chair to guide me. One day it will instead be the patter of my feet running to check on a child who needs a hug, or story, or gentle reminder that everything will be ok. This will eventually give way to a new pattern of the sound of my feet pacing as I wait for a teenager to come home, worried for my child who isnt quite a child anymore: waiting for my heart to stop aching at this change. This pattern will give way to another- of silence. Knowing that my children now create their own oceans and waves as I sit on the shore praying I taught them enough to trust their inner compass.
Right now my chair rocks, my baby sleeps, and a bit of perspective slips into the chaos and stress of my day.
This too shall pass. It will make way for other struggles and other moments-big ones, small ones, moments lost, and moments found.
Tonight I held Sullivan, his little face wet with tears. He was so tired. I was equally as tired and dreaming of Vegas, baby sitters, pants that zipped, and meals I didn't have to eat in under 2 seconds.
I put him on my chest and rocked.
And rocked.
And rocked.
And I listened to his breathing that was rapid and distressed slowly align with my own. Slowly the hiccups stopped. Slowly the tears abaited.
Until we were breathing together, chest to chest and cheek to cheek. Our salty tears intermingled.
And we rocked.
And rocked.
And rocked.
I put my phone down, turned the TV off, and just breathed him in. I memorized his sweet chubby cheeks and perfect little eyelashes. I prayed for grace to remember this moment when it got hard again later.
Aka in 2 hours when he wakes up, or one of his sisters has an accident, or sees something suspicious in their bedrooms such as, but not limited to: a blanket folded strangely. You guys, that's not actually a blanket. It's Godzilla. Stay safe.
As hard as these times can be, they're also so fleeting and precious. I will not always be the center of my children's world. I pray I will at least be their anchor.
I know they themselves will forever by my anchor and compass. They are my lighthouse and beacon.
This too shall pass mommas, so as hard as it is, just breathe it in. Breathe in their sweet smells, their hiccups, and even their cries. You won't always be breathing chest to chest. Your hearts won't always be perfectly aligned to each other in the physical, but if we do this right we may get to occupy a little pocket of theirs forever.
Love and light from another momma in the trenches♡
I know these moments are fleeting.
This struggle - as intense as it feels in the moment- is really just that. Only a moment: only a drop in an ocean. We ride the waves together, sometimes crashing to the surface, other times rocking gentle against the shore.
Like the waves persistent crashes I find myself rocking and often listening to the rythmic creak of the chair. I know one day I will no longer have the rythm of this chair to guide me. One day it will instead be the patter of my feet running to check on a child who needs a hug, or story, or gentle reminder that everything will be ok. This will eventually give way to a new pattern of the sound of my feet pacing as I wait for a teenager to come home, worried for my child who isnt quite a child anymore: waiting for my heart to stop aching at this change. This pattern will give way to another- of silence. Knowing that my children now create their own oceans and waves as I sit on the shore praying I taught them enough to trust their inner compass.
Right now my chair rocks, my baby sleeps, and a bit of perspective slips into the chaos and stress of my day.
This too shall pass. It will make way for other struggles and other moments-big ones, small ones, moments lost, and moments found.
Tonight I held Sullivan, his little face wet with tears. He was so tired. I was equally as tired and dreaming of Vegas, baby sitters, pants that zipped, and meals I didn't have to eat in under 2 seconds.
I put him on my chest and rocked.
And rocked.
And rocked.
And I listened to his breathing that was rapid and distressed slowly align with my own. Slowly the hiccups stopped. Slowly the tears abaited.
Until we were breathing together, chest to chest and cheek to cheek. Our salty tears intermingled.
And we rocked.
And rocked.
And rocked.
I put my phone down, turned the TV off, and just breathed him in. I memorized his sweet chubby cheeks and perfect little eyelashes. I prayed for grace to remember this moment when it got hard again later.
Aka in 2 hours when he wakes up, or one of his sisters has an accident, or sees something suspicious in their bedrooms such as, but not limited to: a blanket folded strangely. You guys, that's not actually a blanket. It's Godzilla. Stay safe.
As hard as these times can be, they're also so fleeting and precious. I will not always be the center of my children's world. I pray I will at least be their anchor.
I know they themselves will forever by my anchor and compass. They are my lighthouse and beacon.
This too shall pass mommas, so as hard as it is, just breathe it in. Breathe in their sweet smells, their hiccups, and even their cries. You won't always be breathing chest to chest. Your hearts won't always be perfectly aligned to each other in the physical, but if we do this right we may get to occupy a little pocket of theirs forever.
Love and light from another momma in the trenches♡
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