Brennan huffles.
Yes, this is a term I coined myself.
Basically she takes a few short breaths followed by a longer sigh. It's seriously adorable.
Last night she huffled up a storm. It was a long night. One of those nights as a parent where our grace and patience is tested. I suck at tests. I'd reached my limit. There was no joy. Hell, I was so tired if prompted I couldn't even SPELL joy. "Vanna, I'd like to buy a vowel?"
And then she huffled.
My heart broke and exploded at the same time. ( Hello motherhood, am I right?!)
The nights are long, but the days are short.
Such an annoyingly cliche term. Probably because the truth hurts.
Our children come barrelling into this world.
They steal our hearts- the proverbial parenthood wand pass: a relay race as old as time, leaving us forever chasing. It's a race we won't win. But really do we want to? Who better to carry our hearts than our children.
Five years ago I rocked a different baby. She huffled too.
We just bought her kindergarten school supplies. She is five, fierce, and I can't even kind of keep up. I guess my point here is this: It's said this is a season. What is failed to mention is sometimes it feels like hurricane season.
But no matter how brutal the storm is- it passes. It passes mommas.
So damn fast.
Let's all try to take a minute and just soak in the now, soak in the chaos that is whatever stage of parenting you're in. As we ride the rollercoaster that is motherhood instead of gripping that handrail knuckle tight, maybe today we just let go.
You can hear the huffle better hands free.
Love and light ♡
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Squirrel Mom
Did you guys know that animal type parenting is a thing? Why this surprised me I have no idea. I mean sugar free, gluten free, joy free cake is a thing.
A real, sad, gross, thing.
So duh, of course there is such a thing as dolphin parenting. Where the hell have I been?! I'll tell you:
Hiding.
I've been hiding.
But I digress, time for some research: hi-ho hi-ho off to google I go. There are apparantly three animal genres:
-Tiger
-Elephant
- Dolphin
And you know what? I just don't fit in any of these categories well. Can't fit in my pants. Can't fit in at PTA gatherings. Can't fit the mini van into small parking spots when the door greeters, or moms who wear real pants are staring at me (nerves yall). Can't fit into an appropriate parenting animal group either.The struggle. It is so damn real.
So I did some soul searching. This soul searching happened when I was on the toilet and it was cut short when I had not one, but two volunteers offer to assist in the wiping process.
But in my exstensive (five minutes) of research I have identified my own animal parenting type.
The squirrel.
Why you may ask am I a squirrel mom? Many valid and poignant reasons to follow:
1. Squirrels spend like 65% of their life hiding nuts. The other 45% is spent with them unsuccessfully trying to find them again.
Me. So me.
I loose my keys.
I loose my kids.
I loose my sanity.
I always think I've placed them in *the* sweet spot(you know the spot you put things, thinking I will totally remember, never to see the item again) Cue me 3 hours later searching fruitlessly in my fruit of the looms.
2. Have you ever done any squirrel watching? They are ALWAYS chasing other squirrels. Just frolicking about all frolick like, not a care in the world.
That mom you saw in aisle ten last week at target? The one in toddler pursuit next to the shampoo? The pursuit ended in a slide tackle with a double soumersault lay out.
*and the crowd goes wild*
Me. That was me.
My crew, we frolick hard.
3. My dad has bird feeders. It mortally wounds his soul when the squirrels steal the bird's food, which is often. Every day when my husband comes home he asks what is for dinner. I usually have my signature response: "No idea, but I haven't eaten all day. I am starving.
Lies. All Lies.
I have actually eaten.
A lot. I've had roughly 5 chicken nuggets, 3 soggy pancakes, half a bag of goldfish, 2.5 string cheeses, .046 of a yogurt container, and 4 half drank juice boxes.
All stolen. Kids aren't the only one with sticky fingers."Wow Meara that was a fascinating retelling of the time three years ago you wore mismatched socks to wal mart!"
- chicken nugget dissapears in her distraction-
4. According to my exstensive bathroom research squirrels actually zigzag to avoid predators. So when they are acting a fool in the middle of the road there is actually a biological purpose to that crazy drunk run.
Pub crawl. 2012.
I don't feel the need to elaborate past that.
5. Squirrels get bulky during winter months as a biological protection against food scarcity and for warmth. Four years ago the grocery store ran out of milk and bread before a big snow storm. The storm lasted approximately 2.5 hours and melted in another 5, but let me tell you shit got real. As in new pants size real. It's been my biological imperitive after that traumatic experience to gain at least 5lbs every winter.
I get you squirrels. I do.
6. Squirrels give birth to between 2 and 5 young. They are born naked and helpless.
Yesterday one of children lost her ever loving shit. Tears, drama, desperation,
despair. She went full blown lifetime movie on me. The problem: lost shoes. By lost I mean they were in her closet. sitting next to all her other lost shoes.
*checks off 2-5 helpless children, as the two year old streaks past proudly displaying his man junk*
7. Apparantly squirrel moms are incredibly aggressive and territorial of their young. I consider myself a kind person. I open doors. I give up my seat. I volunteer. But make my kid cry and it is on like donkey kong. That door I just held? Zero problem smashing your foot in it. Twice. Squirrel mom crazy doesn't have shit on me.
I know some of you are wondering how I know all of this super relevant, and useful to my every day life, squirrel information? Yes, yes I did google squirrels. How did I manage this with four small kids to take care of? I'll let you in on a squirrel mom secret.
I gave them snacks, let them frolick, and prayed no one died in the process. I mean with two to five in a litter the odds of several surviving to adulthood is fairly high.
Squirrel moms unite.
Love and light♡
A real, sad, gross, thing.
So duh, of course there is such a thing as dolphin parenting. Where the hell have I been?! I'll tell you:
Hiding.
I've been hiding.
But I digress, time for some research: hi-ho hi-ho off to google I go. There are apparantly three animal genres:
-Tiger
-Elephant
- Dolphin
And you know what? I just don't fit in any of these categories well. Can't fit in my pants. Can't fit in at PTA gatherings. Can't fit the mini van into small parking spots when the door greeters, or moms who wear real pants are staring at me (nerves yall). Can't fit into an appropriate parenting animal group either.The struggle. It is so damn real.
So I did some soul searching. This soul searching happened when I was on the toilet and it was cut short when I had not one, but two volunteers offer to assist in the wiping process.
But in my exstensive (five minutes) of research I have identified my own animal parenting type.
The squirrel.
Why you may ask am I a squirrel mom? Many valid and poignant reasons to follow:
1. Squirrels spend like 65% of their life hiding nuts. The other 45% is spent with them unsuccessfully trying to find them again.
Me. So me.
I loose my keys.
I loose my kids.
I loose my sanity.
I always think I've placed them in *the* sweet spot(you know the spot you put things, thinking I will totally remember, never to see the item again) Cue me 3 hours later searching fruitlessly in my fruit of the looms.
2. Have you ever done any squirrel watching? They are ALWAYS chasing other squirrels. Just frolicking about all frolick like, not a care in the world.
That mom you saw in aisle ten last week at target? The one in toddler pursuit next to the shampoo? The pursuit ended in a slide tackle with a double soumersault lay out.
*and the crowd goes wild*
Me. That was me.
My crew, we frolick hard.
3. My dad has bird feeders. It mortally wounds his soul when the squirrels steal the bird's food, which is often. Every day when my husband comes home he asks what is for dinner. I usually have my signature response: "No idea, but I haven't eaten all day. I am starving.
Lies. All Lies.
I have actually eaten.
A lot. I've had roughly 5 chicken nuggets, 3 soggy pancakes, half a bag of goldfish, 2.5 string cheeses, .046 of a yogurt container, and 4 half drank juice boxes.
All stolen. Kids aren't the only one with sticky fingers."Wow Meara that was a fascinating retelling of the time three years ago you wore mismatched socks to wal mart!"
- chicken nugget dissapears in her distraction-
4. According to my exstensive bathroom research squirrels actually zigzag to avoid predators. So when they are acting a fool in the middle of the road there is actually a biological purpose to that crazy drunk run.
Pub crawl. 2012.
I don't feel the need to elaborate past that.
5. Squirrels get bulky during winter months as a biological protection against food scarcity and for warmth. Four years ago the grocery store ran out of milk and bread before a big snow storm. The storm lasted approximately 2.5 hours and melted in another 5, but let me tell you shit got real. As in new pants size real. It's been my biological imperitive after that traumatic experience to gain at least 5lbs every winter.
I get you squirrels. I do.
6. Squirrels give birth to between 2 and 5 young. They are born naked and helpless.
Yesterday one of children lost her ever loving shit. Tears, drama, desperation,
despair. She went full blown lifetime movie on me. The problem: lost shoes. By lost I mean they were in her closet. sitting next to all her other lost shoes.
*checks off 2-5 helpless children, as the two year old streaks past proudly displaying his man junk*
7. Apparantly squirrel moms are incredibly aggressive and territorial of their young. I consider myself a kind person. I open doors. I give up my seat. I volunteer. But make my kid cry and it is on like donkey kong. That door I just held? Zero problem smashing your foot in it. Twice. Squirrel mom crazy doesn't have shit on me.
I know some of you are wondering how I know all of this super relevant, and useful to my every day life, squirrel information? Yes, yes I did google squirrels. How did I manage this with four small kids to take care of? I'll let you in on a squirrel mom secret.
I gave them snacks, let them frolick, and prayed no one died in the process. I mean with two to five in a litter the odds of several surviving to adulthood is fairly high.
Squirrel moms unite.
Love and light♡
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
In My Past Life I Was a Construction Worker.
I mom hard.
By mom hard I mean my kids eat frozen chicken nuggets and I make generous donation to the school bake sale instead of baking while flashing my " I've actually caught a house on fire while boiling water" paperwork.
This is why no one should've been surprised to find me surveying the local construction work about a mile from my house. Quality road work matters. By surveying I mean nervously waving to construction workers and confused drivers while power walking with a purpose.
Let me backtrack. Audrey had a doctors appointment. A lengthy, scratch your eyes out, torturous doctors appointment. This left my mom (God bless her) with the buddha baby.
My baby is a boob baby. Girl doesn't miss a meal...Hell she doesn't miss a chance to motorboat herself catatonic in remebrance of a meal.(Don't act like you haven't done the same thing after a 2am taco bell cheesy gordita crunch run.) She does however miss every chance possible to take a bottle. God rest my mother's sanity, she was left with the 3 others, some pumped milk, and a long last look of pity.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
They weren't.
So after spending a few hours physically wrestling Audrey in front of some very confused parents and reassuring the nurse that her new elbow sized face bruise actually makes her look thinner we get the SOS call from my mom and head home.
Boob baby down.
We are hauling butt home. Im nervous mom sweating at this point. You moms know what im talking about. You know your baby has lost her shit so you're trying not to shit your pants. Cue road work from hell.
15 minutes we sit. 15 minutes. We are a mile away. You know those points in movies where the main character finally snaps and you know shits about to get real? This was me. Shit was about to get real, and not just in my pants.
I turn to my husband and say very calmy: " I'm getting out". Relationship goals yall. This is how you know you've reached them.
He glances at me and says: "ok bye"
Clearly this man knows my brand of crazy. There was no um are you nuts, this is grid lock traffic, you're a mile away, the roads are torn up, there are no sidewalks, its hot. Nope, not from my guy. "ok bye".
Byyyyeeeeee.
Have you ever hit a deer? That deer in the headlight look is a real thing. I got this look from about 32 confused people sitting in cars who had the privilege of watching me scramble around chunks of road, cones, and do not cross tape.
It was almost as comical as the construction worker's faces. I decided to play it real awkward with them though, and just do some small waving and head nodding. Just taking a tour boys, great job. Love what you did with that corner back there!
So a mile later I arrive home. I roll in ( aka drag) my out of shape wheezing, sweaty, crazed look mom on a mission, give me that baby, roll in.
Baby is good. Kids are good.
Cue my husband pulling in approximately 3 minutes later.
What is the lesson in this story you may ask?
There is no crazy like mom crazy.
And my feet hurt.
Love and light ♡
By mom hard I mean my kids eat frozen chicken nuggets and I make generous donation to the school bake sale instead of baking while flashing my " I've actually caught a house on fire while boiling water" paperwork.
This is why no one should've been surprised to find me surveying the local construction work about a mile from my house. Quality road work matters. By surveying I mean nervously waving to construction workers and confused drivers while power walking with a purpose.
Let me backtrack. Audrey had a doctors appointment. A lengthy, scratch your eyes out, torturous doctors appointment. This left my mom (God bless her) with the buddha baby.
My baby is a boob baby. Girl doesn't miss a meal...Hell she doesn't miss a chance to motorboat herself catatonic in remebrance of a meal.(Don't act like you haven't done the same thing after a 2am taco bell cheesy gordita crunch run.) She does however miss every chance possible to take a bottle. God rest my mother's sanity, she was left with the 3 others, some pumped milk, and a long last look of pity.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
They weren't.
So after spending a few hours physically wrestling Audrey in front of some very confused parents and reassuring the nurse that her new elbow sized face bruise actually makes her look thinner we get the SOS call from my mom and head home.
Boob baby down.
We are hauling butt home. Im nervous mom sweating at this point. You moms know what im talking about. You know your baby has lost her shit so you're trying not to shit your pants. Cue road work from hell.
15 minutes we sit. 15 minutes. We are a mile away. You know those points in movies where the main character finally snaps and you know shits about to get real? This was me. Shit was about to get real, and not just in my pants.
I turn to my husband and say very calmy: " I'm getting out". Relationship goals yall. This is how you know you've reached them.
He glances at me and says: "ok bye"
Clearly this man knows my brand of crazy. There was no um are you nuts, this is grid lock traffic, you're a mile away, the roads are torn up, there are no sidewalks, its hot. Nope, not from my guy. "ok bye".
Byyyyeeeeee.
Have you ever hit a deer? That deer in the headlight look is a real thing. I got this look from about 32 confused people sitting in cars who had the privilege of watching me scramble around chunks of road, cones, and do not cross tape.
It was almost as comical as the construction worker's faces. I decided to play it real awkward with them though, and just do some small waving and head nodding. Just taking a tour boys, great job. Love what you did with that corner back there!
So a mile later I arrive home. I roll in ( aka drag) my out of shape wheezing, sweaty, crazed look mom on a mission, give me that baby, roll in.
Baby is good. Kids are good.
Cue my husband pulling in approximately 3 minutes later.
What is the lesson in this story you may ask?
There is no crazy like mom crazy.
And my feet hurt.
Love and light ♡
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