Thank God I Paid for My Friends in College

So back in the day when I washed on a regular basis and owned clothes that weren't 95 percent lycra I was in a sorority.

Some people might assume my bachelor's degree in education or my minor in early childhood has prepared me to be a mother of small children. They'd be wrong. 

What prepared me were my sorority days. 
Indulge me and I'll elaborate.

Mini cheeseburger lunch days made my heart swell, crazy dance moves happened on the daily,  and getting ready to go out was a community event.  Basically I just described my three year old's dream day. Therefore, I've made this notevenkindofcomprehensive list. ENJOY.

1. Recruitment: long hours spent incessantly singing the same damn song loudly for hours.

Um. I do this daily except now I yell "PLEASE PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON" while singing Barney to unimpressed toddlers.

2. Weekly meetings: at times tedious but usually provided information I needed to prepare me for the days ahead.  In truth  these meetings prepared me for potty training.  Now I'm the "president" and my recruit is rolling her eyes at my speeches and pooping behind the couch.

3. The sorority girl look. I was first introduced the the glorious concept of looking homeless out in public during my college years. I've taken this notion to heart and honed it to a tee. I'd like to thank my sorority for introducing me to over sized tshirts, leggings as outerwear, and the concept of spacing showers based on when you have to wear pants with buttons.

4. The sorority bathroom was pivotal in developing me for motherhood. It was here that I first peed surrounded by other people, while simultaneously  discussing the weather and our opinions about sonic chili cheesedogs. 

5. Most people don't realize that sororities are very philanthropic. I spent many hours doing services projects to better our community.  I'm super philanthropic now. I cut the crust off of all sandwiches and have been known to give up my last cheese stick to a child in need. The time in my sorority taught me how to be a servant to others. There is nothing more selfless than cleaning someone else's poop out of the bathtub. True life.

6. Socials: We worked hard, and played harder. All nighters were common and usually involved drinking questionable things out of large plastic cups,  followed by eating 5 tacos in bed, and possibly crying while watching Lassie with 5 other girls.

Yesterday I stayed up all night, then drank my coffee out of a princess Sofia cup, ate 2 tacos, and cried when the seek part of hide and seek became a reality. So I'm consistent!

7. My sorority had a great designated driving program. Basically we took turns making sure our buddies got home safely if they decided to go out. These car rides involved crying, laughing, Britney Spears lip syncing, glitter, sadly at times vomit, and often ended with cheeseburgers.

I basically just described every road trip I've ever taken with my children.

8. Anyone who's been in a sorority, fraternity, or basically any club knows they can be pretty competitive with each other. My college held all sorts of events where we competed: highest gpa, dance competitions, community service, float building, athletic games. You name it, we probably competed in it. Surprisingly enough one of my strongest talents is eating. I'm super good at it. I seem to possess a natural ability to enhale food. I once led my sorority to an eating competition victory by enhaling an entire pumpkin pie only using my face in under 2 minutes.

I did the same thing with my bacon and eggs this morning while my 2 year old tried to nail me in the face with a plate. Touche sorority life, touche.

I could continue, but it's time for another team meeting around the toilet. To my sorority- I give the glory.

Love and light from another momma in the struggle ♡

Nailing it as Usual

Sometimes I make bad decisons. We all do from time to time. Some people do drugs, other people wear glittery jeggings. 

Mistakes happen.

This morning I made the mistake of going to the restroom. It was a cruel twist of fate when God decided one of the bi-products of giving birth was the necessity to empty ones bladder frequently. I need to invent mommy pads. Similar to puppy pads, but covering a larger surface area. Trust me after three labor and delivery experiences I would have no problem dropping my pants and peeing in a public corner.

But I digress: the bathroom break. I should've known something was seriously wrong because I actually peed alone. Warning signals should have been flaring but clearly I'm not the brightest crayon in the box.  I emerge from the restroom proud  that I've finally succeeded in teaching my children to respect my privacy and personal space.

HA.

Cue me walking into what can only be described as a cereal explosion. Audrey had only had four breakfasts at this point, so she must have gotten extremely hungry in the 30 seconds I dared leave her side. She had helped herself to the supersized, brand new, box of cereal. I've been trying to teach her about portion control but in her rush she decided to go for the portion titled: dump entire box of cereal over my head. 

Meara has been pretty sad that the snow has all melted. She hasn't actually communicated this sadness with me but since she was making cereal snow angels I can only make this assumption.

This isn't my first rodeo with Audrey attempting to impersonate the contestants on top chef and I'll take my lumps where they are due. I left the cereal out. Rookie mistake. 

I accept my bad decison karma and begin to clean up the 5 million pieces of crunched up cereal. Olaf(aka snow loving cereal eating Meara) pitches in and we have just about gotten it cleaned up when Audrey comes strolling over.

My heart drops.

She is carrying the bottle of laundry detergent.

The empty bottle.

Never one to miss an opportunity, when I went to get the vacuum she went to do some cleaning. She couldn't find a rag or soap so she opted for some dirty underwear and a full container of laundry soap. 

Now I could go ahead and curl in the fetal position and cry, but I've decided to see the positive in my morning. So here they are:
1. No need for lunch, they've taken care of this themselves.
2. No necessary to vaccum again today because my last bag is currently full.
3. Audrey smells like a lavendar spring rain. Yum.
4. Don't have to do any laundry. No more detergent
5. The floors are super shiny. If I step on them I may fall and die but they're super shiny.

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 ♡

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 ♡

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 ♡

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 ♡

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 ♡