I’ve finally figured out the scariest Halloween costume. We don’t practice Halloween in our house, but I’ve always kind of wondered (in a back-of-my-mind, never-really-thought-about, detached kind of way) what it would be. I’m sure no one has actually realized the genius (or crazy) this costume requires. It’s not a zombie. It’s not a goblin. It’s not a toddler given too much candy.
It’s a Mom at home away from public view. Continue reading “Momster Mash”
Mothers are a wonder. They’re a work in progress like the rest of humanity, but they’re a wonder nonetheless. Have you ever watched them with their families? I don’t mean in a creepy, call the cops and get a restraining order kind of way; I mean a casual observance. It’s one of my favorite things to do. I like people watching, but there’s something about seeing a mother be a mother that’s stirring. Continue reading “Get Her a Cape”
Do you ever have those days when you have to say, “I’m super grateful for all the faith and trust you have in me, God, but could you maybe pull back a bit? I’m not as awesome as you seem to think I am. I mean, I know I prayed for patience, but that’s because I have none, not because I need you to give opportunities to be patient. I was sort of hoping you’d just hand it over.”
No? Just me? It seems like when one thing goes wrong, everything in your life is getting turned upside down. If the water heater breaks, that stupid bleeping hairbrush wouldn’t go through your hair just right. The kids are angelic every single day except the one day you didn’t wake to your alarm, then they are crazy psycho monsters who have a hand in your tardiness. The hot water stopped working just after your shower, but you spill juice down the front of your pants and now you’re just going to have to stay dirty forever. Continue reading “Perspective and Examples”
Being home alone with two young kids who aren’t allowed to watch anything but the Olympics for its duration is bound to inspire. If you think about it, there’s not much difference between being a parent and being an Olympian.
Whether Olympian or parent, some days really are about who is faster and/or stronger. Both feel the bewilderment of being ahead right up to the very end when victory is taken out from underneath them. Both require constant training, although, parents have you beat time wise, Olympians. Continue reading “The Parent Games”
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”
I’ve been writing a lot lately about applying my revelations to my everyday life and most days there’s a 50/50 chance I’ve succeeded. I’m still making my way up that hill, but sometimes there’s a glorious bench off the path calling to me. If I didn’t take a seat, it’d be rude. Plus, I’m not a big fan of the exercise. Who is? Personal growth is hard.
I’ve been talking about working out and getting in shape, blah, blah, blah. It’s the doing that’s a little more challenging. I set a schedule for my alarm to go off at 8 AM every morning. If there’s an annoying buzzing in my ear I’m bound to get up. Then I remembered I’m a mother and we have a superpower that tells us the difference between a real or fake cry. I’m awake long enough to ensure safety then I’m out, at least until a child stomps on my face. Continue reading “I choose joy.”
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 is Monday. Mondays are hard on our family. The proof is in my coffee that’s now cold and has been sitting next to me since 2 PM. Weekends in our house are reserved for activity. It’s the only time all four of us (five if you count the dog, which we often don’t) are together for long periods of time. It’s also the only time Mommy feels strong enough to venture into populated places with children; she has a helper on the weekends. Our kids live for those days and honestly, we really enjoy that time too.
It does take us a day to recoup, though. Packing that into two days means no naps, bad sleep, food on the go and activity hangovers. Continue reading “Mondays are for chair parenting.”
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.”