Soul Sisters

It occurred to me today I haven't had a real conversation with a person who doesn't need help getting their underwear on or pants buttoned in a long while. Therefore, I decided I clearly need to aquire a mom soul sister. Someone who really gets me in the depths of my inner, unshowered, being.

 If you meet any of these requirements please call me, beep me, if you want to reach me. 

You may be my mom soul sister if:

Your internal mantra repeats back and forth between "it's five o clock somewhere" and a countdown to naptime that rivals the ball drop in New York City on New Years Eve. Please picture me throwing confetti about the house in my sweat pants every day around 1 o clock while repeating in my best Oprah Winfrey impression: " you get a dorito, you get a dorito, everybody gets a dorito!!!!!!!!"

You change into your nicest yoga pants when leaving the house but immediately take them off when you get home. You don't want to waste those gems on just anyone. You can repeat this process of wearing said pants for public outings at minimum 3 times before they require a wash. Just an fyi.

Meals consist of whatever leftovers you can steal off your kid's Dora the Explorer plate. You've been known to dive bomb the floor in order to get the last tator tot before the dog does. Move over Spike that's momma's nugget. Thank God you bought all those work out clothes, without which that food extraction maneuver wouldn't be possible!

You know every nursery rhyme, children's song, the words to basically every children book in your house, and all the Disney Princess names and life stories by memory. However, you are not sure what year it is, where you last put your cell phone, and there's a solid chance your pants are on backwards-or that you quite possibly aren't wearing pants. 

If you have any form of food stashed anywhere in your house. Apparently other professionals don't closet eat expired croutons in the laundry room.

if you've ever had a conversation with your husband or significant other similar to this:
Me: I need to shower
Husband: why? You showered yesterday.
Me:(blink, blink) Yeah, some people still do that on the daily huh?

If anyone has ever told you you had your hands full and instead of responding with "yes, but you should see my heart" you agree and pass them a kid. 

Your child is on his or her 4th outfit and it's ten am. By outfit I mean they are wearing a swimsuit, rainboots, and a tiara. You're wearing underwear from 2002 you found under the bed.

You think a ratchet is a tool, a bae is a sound a sheep makes, and the only twittering you do involves singing old Mcdonald with your 3 year old. 

Your Pinterest board is full of amazing recipes. Your pantry has a box of stale crackers, fruits snacks, and a can of corn. 

If you've ever tried to take a picture of your kids only to have the camera reversed so you instead view your face. That event was so traumatizing you have to turn your phone off for at least 2 hours and put it in a bag of rice. The rice was for all the tears shed from the trauma of the experience.

If you meet any of these requirements clearly we need to be in touch.

So call me maybe? 

Help Wanted!!!!

Unfortunately I find myself in the position of desperately needing about 3 seconds without a child attached to my body screaming for more gold fish crackers, while throwing a sippy cup at my head.

This is not an easy task to be completed. So, I came up with the brilliant idea to place a help wanted ad for those inconvenient times I want to meet basic human needs such as(but not limited to) eating, peeing, or sleeping.

Help Wanted:

Murphy Family Corporation, located in Liberal Kansas, is currently seeking a full-time, entry-level specialist to assume the day shift, night shift, swing shift, and any other shifts, on a temporary contract basis. Salary is nonexistent. Benefits include minimal alone time, a lack of privacy, and full loss of sanity.

Applications must be submitted by September 12, as this position is expected to start immediately and run for a total of the rest of your life.

We are seeking a candidate who is fluent in toddler gibberish and also can translate preschool age meltdowns. Knowledge in martial arts, as well as crisis and hostage negotiation skills are also a must. Basic plumbing skills are also a requirement. The skill set of speedily preparing 5 different meal options that will all be thrown on the floor is also necessary.

Canidates should have absolutely no training or experience before beginning this job, but are required to be full experts after 6 to 12 weeks of winging it. Calling home to your mother in tears is not required, but is encouraged.

 A daily uniform of dirty yoga pants, oversized t shirts reaking of body fluids, dirty hair, and tennis shoes is required at minimum. A frazzled, make up free face that can often be found eating snacks in the closet while catching up on facebook is NOT required, but highly encouraged.

A bonus will be given if the yoga pants are over over 8 years old.

At this time we do not provide health insurance, competitive pay, a 401K,  paid or non-paid time off, sick days, medical leave, bathroom breaks, or any other form of "breaks or leave." (**this leave policy does not include the event of sudden death**)

A retirement plan of living in your grown children's basement is provided, given that you complete your 6 to 12 weeks of on site training with no less than 25 emotional breakdowns.

If you are interested in becoming part of our team please apply in person between the hours of 9am and 7pm, not including the hours of nap time. These hours are subject to change and will not be disclosed. If you do apply in person during the mystery nap hours please be prepared to take at minimum 1 or 2 children home with you permanently, as well as pay a 200 dollar fine in the form of Godiva chocolates.

Looking forward to hearing from many eager applicants in the future!

channeling Christina: You are beautiful ♡

Post partum - not really my favorite thing. I have been struggling with the changes I see in my body. The hips that are wider, the rib cage that separated massively to encompass a 23.5 inch baby, the loose skin, stretch marks, bags under my eyes, and a chest I don't know what to do with. I dream of pants that zip, and bras that fit. I know I'm not alone in this and that it isn't exclusive to immediate post partum women. Motherhood changes everything:from the capacity of our hearts to the capacity of our hips. So, today I am going to attempt to put it into perspective for myself and for you too my friends, just in case I'm not alone. I say alone "figuratively" since I have 2 kids trying to put cheese puffs in my belly button right now. 

My hips are wider. They are wider from carrying three perfectly healthy humans to full term in 4 years. They are wider from birthing those babies, from the act of bringing life into the world. If that isn't sacred I don't know what is. My hips are wider and I earned those hips. Those hips know the perfect rythm to sway a child to sleep. Those hips have carried, tossed, rocked, and chased my children. They've carried the weight of my body and three others. 
And they are beautiful.

My rib cage has seperated. It seperated to make room for my growing children. I think it had to make room for my heart as well. With each child a bit of my heart walks the earth. These shoulders carry the weight of the world, while also the weight of a sweet sleeping head. Yes, my rib cage is larger now. But it is beautiful.

My skin bears the marks of motherhood. It has stretched in ways that didn't seem possible. Organs have shifted, ligaments torn, rib cage bruised. I have the marks of my children's existence etched permanently on my body. One day they will be grown and I will still carry those marks as a bittersweet reminder of these sacred years. I will never regret that. My skin may not be beautiful by a normal standard but to my children there is no safer place than in my arms, snuggled into this body that has seen such changes. 
These are my badges of motherhood and they are beautiful.

I looked into the mirror this morning and didnt recognize the tired face looking back: bags under my eyes, dirty hair,  the beginnings of a permanent crease between my eyebrows. The bags are caused from sleepless nights of rocking, holding, and walking my children. From sleepless nights of worry, from over analyzing every decision, and late night prayers that I am doing this right. They are formed from sleepless nights with sick babies, from sleepless nights with scared toddlers, from sleepless nights of laundry, bill paying, and trying to catch up on a life that seems ten steps ahead. The line between my eyebrows has formed from a look of constant confusion from my kid's crazy behavior(but seriously, I'm still confused). It has formed from belly laughs, heart ache, and lessons learned the hard way from my sweet babies. Every bag, every wrinkle, every grey hair, and visible sign of imperfection is beautiful because they tell the story of my journey through motherhood-of the lessons I've been taught by my greatest teachers.


My body is not perfect. It is a direct reflection of the path I've taken the past four years. That path has not been without flaws. Much like my body there have been grooves, and bumps, changes and shifts. 

But it is beautiful nonetheless.

And so are you momma.
Love and light ♡.

The Ache

Let's have an honest conversation, Mom to Mom. It's 12 o clock. Already I've been drowned in tears, and needs, and demands. I've been joined in the shower by my fully dressed toddler who didnt even have the decency to offer to wash my back. So much for helping a sister out right? 

I've kissed boo boos, I've disbanded girl fights. I've done 3 loads of laundry, changed multiple dirty diapers, and coached my pre schooler in the art of pooping. Because seriously, who wouldn't want someone cheering you on during your bowel movements. I haven't gotten a high five or congratulations for any of my bathroom accomplishments lately and let me tell you. It kind of stings.

I've taken a dirty diaper to the face and found my once fully dressed toddler naked in her crib eating stashed crackers. Stashed where you ask? Not real sure would be my reply. And yes, you read the first statement correctly. Because really nothing says "I love you" more than a urine soaked diaper to the face. I'm going to try it out on my husband later. I want him to feel as appreciated as I am. I'll let yall know how it goes.

 I've called my previously mentioned husband twice and said " I can't do this." Twice. 

Because sometimes I really feel that way. Like I just. Cant. Do. It.

But here is the thing, I can. And I will. Every day, in and out.  These days are long and they're hard.

 I'm currently nursing a newborn who thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread. He has no idea what bread is, but given the option I am a fairly sure he would choose me over a loaf of Sara Lee.
And later I will get to see the look of pure joy when I drop off my 3 year old to dance class. I will watch her march in there so independently, without a backwards glance- and in doing so I will slowly watch her grow up. Slowly loose her bit by bit to the wonderful person she is becoming. It is my privilege to watch this, but also my own personal heart ache. 

Isn't that just what motherhood is? Pride and wonder mixed in with the "ache".

All momma's know what ache I am talking about. 

So my message today is to hang in there. We've all read the cliche quotes and been given the sage (and annoying) advice that we will miss this: And it's true. I know I will. I know it as I rock my sleeping baby,  run herd on my crazy toddler, and watch my 3 year old become more of her own little person.
Knowing this doesn't change the day to day struggles or the exhaustion.

 Hang in there mommas. Find your joy. Take whatever quiet moments you can. I really hope they involve a stashed bag of doritos and the ability to pee alone, but to each their own. 

Hang in there because this isn't easy. It's messy. And hard. And beautiful. 

And you are doing such a good job.

Love and light from another momma in the struggle. 

We can do this. ♡

Mom Life: The Unedited Version

There are many, many woman who have it together.

Their children eat well balanced meals. Mine eat paper. 

They wear underwear on the daily. Mine enjoy a nice breeze between their buttock. 

Their kids don’t solve sibling issues with WWE moves. Mine will be starring on the next episode of Wrestle Mania.

Mom Life: The Unedited Version

So here is a picture play by play of my morning. Because I’m keeping it real for all my soul sisters out there. Can I get an AMEN?!? Or  maybe just a hug. I'll take a hug. Please God someone hold me,

 

So it started out ok. Just two sisters fighting over toys that are developmentally appropriate for their little brother in a very small space. Totally typical.

 

Next we did some cleaning. Audrey cleaned the couch for me. She has such a selfless soul.

 

This was followed by art time. Here we are just arting away. And by arting I mean they were throwing crayons like they were college co-eds experiencing Mardi Gra for the first time.

 

Then we played outside. A good time was had by all. And by good time I mean there was bodily injury and poop was thrown.

 

Restroom break, for mom, AKA Audrey did a little reorganization in preparation for her move.

 

Did I mention we are moving in 2 days? Here is the extent of my packing. I did that tape job myself.

 

Lunch time. Mom wasn’t quick enough. Beggars cannot be choosers so kids made a snack of this toothpaste.

And don't ask how she earned those beads.

 

Gas man, gas.

 

 

It is five o clock somewhere. Not here. but somewhere. Please don't everyone bask in my beauty all at once. that would be overwhelming.

 

Please picture me saluting you while the song "I Will Survive" plays in the background.

Soldier on mommas, soldier on.

ISO: A Highly Qualified Do Everything'er

Today as I was browsing my computer I came upon my resume from past days. Days where I showered. Days when I knew what was going on in the world. Days when I wasn’t confused by the clothing I see people wearing. Days where I didn’t have to double check if my pants were on backwards before I left the house. I had a moment of blankness where I literally could not fathom what I would put If I had to make a resume for this time in my life. And that made me a little sad. So, I do believe it is time we have some job clarification. This is for ALL my momma’s. My momma’s who do it all, my momma’s who sacrifice working out of the home and the momma’s who sacrifice working in the home. Because at the end of the day it doesn’t matter how or where you do it. Motherhood is just that: sacrifice, with the most amazing return. Today I needed to give myself and all you other momma’s out there a little reminder of your job description. Because this can be thankless at times and often hard. So today momma I just want to remind you what exactly you really are:

You are a chef.

You are a fashion consultant.

A boo boo healer.

A shoulder to cry on.

A comedian.

You are a personal assistant.

A launderer of 5 loads of laundry a day.

You are a travel agent.

A Detective.

A giver of life.

You are the answer to every question, the comfort to every hurt.

You are the sun, whose planets revolve around you solely.

You are the 3am snuggle and glass of milk.

You are a bathroom assistant.

An organizer of all things.

The lost sock finder.

The sounding board.

You are their goodnight story and first morning snuggle.

You are human.

You are the playground monitor.

The rescuer.

The fun.

You are the teacher.

And ever the student.

You are important.

You are the tummy-ache healer.

You are the master transportation provider.

You are their adventure.

The stuffed animal doctor.

Pajama provider.

You are the story teller.

The drink refiller and snack provider.

The photographer and memory capturer.

The fort builder.

The life guard and referee.

You are holidays, birthdays, just because days.

You are a fighter and a survivor.

You are their sense of safety.

You are the tickle monster.

The darkness chaser.

You are a scientist.

The lead explorer.

The maid.

The GPS.

You matter.

You are a hair dresser.

A shoe locator.

You are a handyman.

You are belly laughs, silly songs, and make believe.

You are tea parties

And demolition derby.

You are their light, their comfort, their safe place.

You are the anchor.

And you hold.

You are beautiful. Just the way you are.

You are the chaser of monsters, and scary things exterminator.

You are tired.

And that is ok.

Because you are present. Every day.

You, momma. Not anyone else. Just little old you.

Give yourself a high five because you, my friend, are amazing.

 

Fill that out on your next resume k?

The Time my Toddler Took a Car Ride Sans Underwear

Every time you add a child to the mix things tend to get a little hairy. We welcomed our third bundle of poop producing joy into the world 4 days ago, and by welcomed I mean there was a lot of screaming, crying, and begging to double people’s pay if they could provide me with some pain relief.

I now have a child who recently turned 3, a 20 month old with a vindictive streak the size of Texas, and a newborn who probably doesn’t stand a solid chance. He will be cross dressing by 6 months with the help of his sisters.

 

Chaos is an understatement.

So to all my dear friends and people who hardly know me, but would like to participate in my slow mental demise: This is how it is going.

Today has been a day of highs and lows. There were tears. There was laughter. Some mild nudity and some moderate violence. However, I would like to focus more on this evening.

I laid all the kids clothes out for after bath. After the two toddlers did their best impressions of flopping dead fish with strong futures that involve making millions on some sort of water dispersal system they ran into the living room to get dressed. Audrey took this time to let us, the neighbors, and possibly the gas station attendant a block away know that she thought the decision to not allow her to sit on her brother was an unfair one by thrashing around on the floor for a good five minutes. While trying to determine if she was just unhappy or experiencing some sort of seizure Meara took the opportunity to hide her underwear.

Why, you ask, would she hide her underwear? Why not is a better question?

So, after we got Audrey calmed down, Andrew and I took a few minutes to hold ourselves and cry. We then put Meara’s nightgown on and requested she please relocate her panties for us. After explaining she enjoyed a good breeze we once again held ourselves and cried some more and then got distracted again.

At this point I’ve moved on to bathe the baby.

Audrey seize this time to:

1.    Break my powder and disperse it like it is fairy dust. Trust me kid if that was fairy dust I wouldn’t have to be hiding in the bathroom eating oreos twice a day.

2.    Take a large bite out of my deodorant. That is one way to both curb your appetite, as well as let everyone know what you thought about tonight’s dinner.

3.    Draw all over herself with my lip stain.

Did you know that actually does in fact stain?!

That is a lovely shade of coral you have dyed your eyebrows and butt Audrey. Really lovely.

At this point my husband is on his knees saying 3 Hail Mary’s in both English and Spanish (we need to cover all our bases here) and doing the sign of the cross at any child’s approach. He decides the best thing to do is put the 2 girls in the car and drive to Mexico and drop them off. After some debate I manage to convince him that isn’t the best option and instead maybe to just start with a drive around the block.

This leaves me alone with my newborn who after watching his sister’s ridiculousness for 4 days is currently considering looking into adoption.

About 3 minutes after they’ve left I got a phone call from Andrew. He passes along this direct quote from Meara:

 

“Dad I really need some panties on, but its ok!”

 

Yes, you read that correctly.

In the mass chaos that is our life we had forgotten that the oldest had stashed her panties (just in case there was one day a panty shortage) and had instead had been going commando during this time. I’ve never taken a car ride with everything free to the breezes, but if you are wondering what it is like just ask my 3 year old. She has some experience.

There are a lot of parents out there who have it all together. They have lovely children, who are unaware that chicken nuggets are in fact a food group, and wear underwear during all forms of travel.

We are not those parents.

I had this exact same facial expression when I heard too Sullivan. May the odds be ever in your favor.