Being sick is so much different for a parent. We have tiny people to keep alive whether we’re ill or not. We have to make sure our kids get fed and clothed and bandaged if needed. We don’t get to beg off or go lay down. If we did, we couldn’t be sure the house would still be intact when we got up. We don’t get sick days.
Sure, we know what a sick day is. Those are the days when you can’t remember how to tie your kid’s shoes the right way because your head is somewhere up by the ceiling. They’re the days you’re too weak to lift or do anything so you make your children your goafers. They’re the days you give directives from your bed because your eyes are being forced out of your skull. They’re the days you feel sick but keep going.
I can’t say mothers are the only ones who don’t get to tag out when they’re sick. It feels like the internet is filled with blogs and articles about how moms never get a break or moms are on call 24 hours a day, but every house is different and some have stay at home dads. They feel the torture just as much as SAHMs. I want you to know I perfectly understand that before I tell you that’s not how it is in my house. Continue reading “What is a sick day?”
I haven’t been shy about my love of coffee or sleep or being a mom, but I’ve downplayed my love of Gilmore Girls. It’s probably the only show I’ll never get enough of. About once a year I watch all seven seasons back to back. When season seven started, a group of us got together to watch the premiere. We made the strongest espresso known to man, bought donuts, pizza, Twizzlers, french fries, burgers and Doritos. The seven of us could only eat half of it, but the pain was worth it. At the end of season seven (the final episode of the final season), I cried. Continue reading “6 Things Gilmore Girls Taught Me About Parenting”
This week, I announced I was going to choose joy and get out of the negative. I wanted and needed a change. Who knew all it took was a little action on my part to get it?
For you parents just entering the “I’m out” stage of summer, I found some hope for you. For those parents who’ve been in that stage since June 1, I have relief for you too. Pour yourself a small glass of wine, relax and prepare for good news.
First and foremost, just remember: there are only four weeks left of summer vacation. You’ve already made it through eight, these last four should blow right past you! Not as satisfying as you wanted, is it?
Save some of that wine, I have more to say. Continue reading “Things Are A Changin’”
To my husband:
I’m sorry I wear moderately dirty clothes over and over again to avoid another load of laundry, leaving them even dirtier and giving you dirtier clothes to wear on repeat. To be fair, I do love putting clothes in the washer; it smells awesome. That’s noticeable by the numerous times I rewash, even if I only rewash because I forgot to transfer to the dryer for too long. I just really need the only pair of shorts that fit to be available at all times.
I’m sorry when I do do (ha, do do) laundry the clean clothes sit in a basket for a week waiting for me to redry them and let them sit for another week. Nope; I don’t even have a valid explanation. I just really hate folding and putting away clothes. Next career change, you’ll need a job that calls for slightly rumpled, possibly damp, moderately clean clothes. Continue reading “My open apology.”
Today was a good day. It was nothing like yesterday. Yesterday was a hard parenting day. There was screaming, spankings, fighting and no coffee. When my husband came home he found three emotionally spent girls, even though one of us had a three hour nap. I thought, “Three hour nap? Yes please!” That was before bedtime; before the constant need of something or other well into the night.
The good thing about being seconds away from emotional breakdown is the understanding from my husband that I needed to go out alone for an hour. That’s all I needed to reign in those feelings. Continue reading “Good things exist, even without coffee.”
Too often I talk about the hardships and frustrations parents face, but parenthood is filled with as many moments of joy and frivolity as anything else; I want a written remembrance of this. I want my kids to know I told the world of the blessing they are. In those frequent moments of self doubt I want something tangible to prove myself wrong. I’m a paradox. Because I’m a paradox, I find it easier to draw parallels. I also really enjoy the letter P. Continue reading “The real image of parenting.”
Today is posting day. It’s posting day and it’s the middle of the night. It’s posting day, it’s the middle of the night and I have yet to actually post something. I wrote and erased and rewrote the opening paragraph three times. I couldn’t find any inspiration, try as I might. Well, maybe I didn’t try too hard; I did get stuck on celebrity gossip videos for the better part of quiet time.
My oldest watches a lot of YouTube toy reviews and has been begging us to take videos of her playing with Play-Doh or demonstrating toys. We didn’t have any new toys and Play-Doh means one of two things in our house: either one child will eat it all or the other will find places to hide and embed it. While at Wal-Mart for toilet paper (which my husband just reminded me that I forgot) I thought it would be nice to get her some blind bags to open. Continue reading “Dare to be more than you think.”
I don’t know about you, but I have an interesting relationship with mirrors. There are some days when we are best friends and those, of course, are the days when it tells me how thin, beautiful, kind and level-headed I am. There are other days when all I want to do is hurt it. I imagine doing something like throwing my hand into it or putting a sheet over it.
I’m realizing, lately, that the problem I have isn’t really with a reflective inanimate object. To be honest, I would have preferred that problem to the one I actually have: the problem with myself. I’m getting deep here – metaphorical and real mirrors, people. Am I alone in this?
The worse my attitude is the less appealing my body appears to me. It’s not something I ever thought to put together. There are days when I wake up well rested-ish (I was going to say well rested, but that doesn’t really happen to parents), I have my coffee in hand and it’s drunk while still hot, my face is good and clear, my kids aren’t fighting and I get to work on time. On those days, it’s a pretty good bet I’m going to feel and act great for most of the day. Now, if my coffee spills, or my kids are stressing me out, or work has gotten away from me, my attitude shifts and BAM; there goes everyone’s day.
It gets worse if my good fitting pants are in the wash and the only shirts I have left are loose and/or ratty. Those are the moments that I know the world is ending. Continue reading “Mirror, mirror……You got me.”
1. Someone asks you if you know the name to that song, but all of your guesses involve Daniel Tiger or the ABCs. Remember when you used to know the title of every song and artist on the radio? Luckily you still know those songs. Unluckily, they are no longer in vogue. I get a lot of, “Who is that? Never heard of them.” The only new songs you know are sung by children and/or animals. Fake animals. You aren’t that far removed. I hope. Continue reading “You might be a parent if…..”
At this point in my life I’m a pretty sarcastic person. I think I’m hilarious. Hysterical, even. A riot. See what I did there? I’m can also be seen as a cocky person, but it’s always sarcastically cocky. There are a few who think I’m sincerely cocky. A few who think I feel I’m better than most. There are a few who think I’m judgmental, probably because my sarcasm as viewed as something truthful instead of the joke it was intended to be. Or maybe I do something else to offend them. I really don’t know.
No matter what people are saying or thinking about me, it’s got nothing on what I feel for myself. We’re the hardest on ourselves, aren’t we? If you’ve read my last post, you know how I’ve struggled with hatred toward myself. I may not have said it explicitly, but the hatred was usually for me. Even now, I find a lot of things about myself that I associate with failure. Like it’s just part of who I am – a failure. Continue reading “It didn’t take long to become a failure.”