Mirror, mirror……You got me.

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.”

You might be a parent if…..

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…..”

It didn’t take long to become a failure.

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.”

Freedom! Sort of.

I am officially the mother of a preschool graduate.  I have a whole lot of emotions about this (sadness, pride, joy), but I think the one that stands out the most is excitement.  There are some parents that may dread summer break (maybe once my kids are older I’ll hit that point), but not me.  Summer break means not having to wake up at the crack of dawn to get my tired preschooler ready and out the door 20 minutes late.  Yeah, I said 20 minutes late.

Friday was a normal day off from school, but since my husband woke up with the girls, I’m counting it as day 1 of summer vacay.  Yes, vacay; this break is turning me into a tween.  I laid in bed until 11 AM.  11 AM, people!  It. Was. Glorious.    I have this beautiful vision of waking up at 10 every morning to the birds tweeting and my children singing love songs to me.  I felt so great getting up.  Then I realized how much my body hurt from the awkward position I laid in for so long.  But, hey, that’s not bad – I was in bed until 11 AM.  11 AM; if I stop saying it, it’ll become more like a dream. Continue reading “Freedom! Sort of.”

Honor and sacrifice, it’s in the job description.

So, it’s mother’s day.  I’m a mom.  What would happen if I didn’t post a mother’s day post? Granted it’s technically not mother’s day anymore, but if I haven’t gone to sleep I’m still counting it.  Could I be sleeping right now?  Probably.  The better question is, should I be sleeping right now; the answer is yes.  Yes I should be sleeping.  I just couldn’t go to bed, though, without sending a message to all those Moms out there.

When I say Moms, I mean mothers of every medium.  Adoptive mothers, foster mothers, expecting mothers, grandmothers, new mothers, veteran mothers, MOPS – I’m talking about all of you.

I think that it’s hard to be a mom these days.  Well, let’s be real.  It’s probably always been hard to be a mom.  I mean, what in the world did mothers do – how did they cope before coffee and PBS Kids?  I don’t think I could survive without it.  I certainly couldn’t speak without that morning cup.  I don’t think I could ever get anything done without those kids shows.  I’m thinking of a time when mothers managed to churn their own butter, sew their own clothes, milk their own cows, comfort and care for their children, cook every meal for their families all without a vehicle, electricity and coffee.  How did they do it?  Those were some tough chicks. Continue reading “Honor and sacrifice, it’s in the job description.”

What is love?

Yes, it was completely intentional that you read that blog title and immediately follow it up with singing to yourself, “baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more.”    While a horribly written sentence, the validity of it is maintained.  Then again, that was probably the point, right?  If you have no idea what I am referencing, I am torn between feeling both sad for you and envious of you.  I am a complex  person, but I’m a generous one:

You’re welcome.  Also, good luck getting that out of your head.

Now that you have that delightful little diddy playing in the background, let’s continue, shall we?  I was reading a blog post the other day by a favorite blogger of mine and she was talking about loving your neighbor.   Reading it got me thinking, do we do that enough?  Do we really do it at all?  Okay, maybe I should change those “we” words to “I.”  I know that I am pretty tolerant and accepting (even if I don’t agree with you, I try to give you respect and grace; and dare I say it, love) of people in general, but is that the same as loving? Continue reading “What is love?”

Motherhood is rose-ish.

Beauty.  Excitement.  Joy.  Inspiring.  Love – endless and incomprehensible.  Learning.  Changing.  Tears.  Overwhelming.  Fear.  Anxiety.  Sadness.  Hard.  Hardships.  Defeat.

My children are currently 4.5 (almost 5 – gasp!) and 1.5, and yet all of those words (and more) are words that I would use to describe motherhood.  I have had the privilege to experience every one of those emotions and/or bodily functions.  Maybe, since this is about motherhood, poo should have been mentioned up there somewhere; it’s not like we can ever get away from it.

When I see newly married couples in the afterglow of a fresh night’s sleep and basking in their unwavering attention and love for each other I feel two things: happy and jealous.  Happy because I remember those days, and I remember them fondly.  I wouldn’t begrudge anyone that feeling.  Jealous because I would really, really like a full night’s sleep.  The other stuff I still have.  I mean, that love and attention is buried a little, but I still have it.  What I don’t have is sleep.  I miss it.  When these couples ask about motherhood and say, “We just can’t wait to start a family,” I see that rosy hue to their eyes.  I remember how I thought it would be. Continue reading “Motherhood is rose-ish.”

That Mom.

Today, friends, I was that mom.  I was the mom that went through the store while her toddler screamed.  My preschooler calmly sat next to her minding her business, playing on the Nexus (hey, don’t judge – at least that one wasn’t screaming, right?).  Me?  What was I doing?  I had one hand on her while I laughed.  I suppose to the unknown observer it may have seemed callous; some of those “unknown” observers let me know what they thought of that.  She wasn’t screaming the whole time – I even had her laughing – but she wavered between joy and pure freak out.  Yeah, you know the one.

Walking into the store was a trial, but you know what we decided?  We decided that getting food into our sparse pantry/fridge was more important than causing a scene.  Sure, we could have turned around and left one adult at home with the tyrant toddler, but who wants to take that bullet?  I didn’t, I’ll tell you that right now.  That was actually the reason that we were out as a family.  My husband and I kept leaving the other alone with the girls and the cart to go grab something that we “forgot.”  I am thinking now that it wasn’t an accident. Continue reading “That Mom.”

Nobody’s fool

Apparently, today is April Fool’s day.  Am I the only person that never notices when that day is here?  What I do know is that it’s a Wednesday.  I know that we are exactly halfway through my 4 YO’s spring break.  As I slam my 10 oz of It Works greens (that I’ve had ready to go since I made my morning coffee) at 10 at night, as my 4 YO is still randomly shouting from her bed for me (while trying to convince me that she is, in fact, sleeping) and I have only gotten to page 97 of my book’s corrected proof, I find that it is both bitter and sweet.  It has been so nice to spend this time with her.  To share in some firsts with her and give her special treatment – what kid on vacation doesn’t want special treatments and activities?  Heck, I still want that when it’s the weekend.  *Hey, hun, can I go sleep over at Tiffany’s?  Her husband said it was okay!* *Followed by the most un-hide-able panicked face my husband has ever made.*  I miss all that time I got to spend with her before she started school.  It’s probably why I’m at her school so much.  I just miss her.

Along with all that sweet is the bitter.  All the work that I didn’t get done yet promised I would.  See, on St. Patrick’s day (it’s only fitting since I am Irish – among other things, but I don’t claim them very often, if ever) my mom and I officially became Tate Publishing’s newest authors.  I come from a food-oriented family and my mom is the best cook I know.  We decided to write a cookbook to fill our gluten free diet. I couldn’t write the cookbook without her.  We teamed up, and it took us 3.5 years to sign with a publishing company and an additional 6 months (so 4 years total) to get the manuscript into our publisher.  That happened in September.  We are currently in the final phase (of 5), approving the proof.

We got the second proof back on Friday.  Yeah, that Friday. Continue reading “Nobody’s fool”

No vacations here.

My 4 year old is having her very first spring break.  At first I thought, “She’s 4, this time off from school won’t even phase her.”  Honestly, I didn’t really think she’d notice.  The unofficial day of spring break fell on a natural school free day – Friday.  I had been fantasizing about that day all week.  No waking up at 7 AM for a whole 10 days (turns out I wasn’t wrong there, it just didn’t happen the way I’d hoped), coffee can be had as soon as I get up and I’ll be able to drink it without interruption; it’s spring break – everyone, including the baby, is going to take the opportunity to sleep in and be well rested which will cause us all to relax and be nice and calm.  On top of that, we’re going to get along so well that my 4 YO and I won’t fight or argue.  She is just going to be so excited to be with me all day long that she will obey every rule and be perfectly behaved at every turn.  I see the irony in that statement when I think of the last blog post I wrote.  It’s not lost on me.

Turns out she did miss me.  Missed me so much that she had an overwhelming urge to creep into my room, tapping me on the forehead whispering “mom,” in that non-quiet preschooler voice, until I woke up.  “Mom, mom, MOM,” she loudly whispers.  “Is it time to wake up yet?”  I was disappointed at what I thought was being woken up at her typical 7:30; maybe it would take a couple of days to adjust to her sleep-in schedule.  Bleary-eyed I looked over at the clock on my phone and saw that it was 5:25 AM.  I’m sorry, 5:25 AM?  I just wanted to shout, “Do you know how beautiful sleep is?  How precious Spring Break is to school kids?  5:25???”  Instead, I held back that irritation and said, “What?  No!  It’s 5:25 in the morning!  Go back to sleep!  This is just-I-it’s too early!”  Okay, so maybe I didn’t hold back entirely, but c’mon! Continue reading “No vacations here.”