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”
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”
In our house, the Olympics have virtually taken over our lives. I’m the sports fanatic in the family, but even my husband has been watching them. I’m choosing to believe it’s the magic of the games and not because I won’t let anyone change the channel(s).
Even our girls are getting into it. They studiously watch all the events and in the middle decide to try it out for themselves. Watching them do diving on our living room floor may be my new favorite thing. While watching a Walsh-Jennings/Ross beach volleyball match, my 2 YO yelled, “No, swimming. I want the swimming, peas!” Continue reading “There Goes All That Summer Progress”
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’”
A good friend sent me a text last night, randomly asking me how I was. I didn’t feel up to the task of answering then because I didn’t think it’d be an accurate portrayal. I have this nasty habit of letting my circumstances or things happening around me determine my attitude (last night was bad). It’s a legitimate and real issue.
After writing my last post, I choose joy, I felt convicted about my attitude. I’ve been yelling a lot lately, and I don’t mean typical stress parenting. I mean an inexcusable unfair amount. It is because of stress, but it doesn’t have to be my response. After last night (which, seriously, was so bad), I was filled with guilt and sadness. Continue reading “I Stand With You”
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.”