All I want for Christmas is 2 nights sleep!!

That's two nights SLEEP Santa, not two front TEETH...please hear me clearly....it's not a typical request...but it is mine!  With all this "Christmas in July" business, it's got me thinking about the holiday.  And all I truly want is to sleep, uninterrupted for two nights in a row....hell...one uninterrupted night of rest would do the trick!  Pretty sad that I've been wanting to write about this for weeks, but am too exhausted to put my fingers to the keyboard.  

 I know that I'm not alone.  Every parent has been sleep deprived from time to time.  It's a phase, and this too shall pass. But we have been in a BAD sleep cycle for MONTHS. What I wouldn't give to sleep for more than 2-3 hours at a time.  I'm in a dance with my kids that consumes me from 8 PM until 6 AM....first the fight to go to sleep.  Never, in my life have I meet a better negotiator or staller than my 4 year old. One more book....more water....I need a Band-Aid....I need to pee....really???? I've never seen someone suck down so much fluid as to move the potty meter like this kid.  And I'm the sucker that falls for all of it...one more book...absolutely...I want to promote literacy after all!! More water....of course...it's summer and we should stay hydrated.  You have to pee and it's not a fight....let's go! *Sigh* An hour later we're both fast asleep, I make my escape.  My husband has had the baby down for at least 30 minutes prior and thus beings my "me time".  Where to start???? Clean the house....nah.....catch up on email and social media....such a time suck.....folding laundry while watching my shows....ehh....I should go do some sit-ups and push-ups.....Maybe read....I haven't done that in 4 years...argh!! I've spent an hour frozen dabbling in everything and accomplishing nothing and now the baby is awake. 

I get her back down and call it a night myself...at this point it's 10:30 PM.  Around 1 AM my little teether *who's currently cutting 6 theeth at once* is back awake....this poor kid....if she's not teething, she's been sick.  A bottle and diaper change for my sweet girl and we're back to sleep by 1:30 AM....now I'm kicking myself for waiting until after 11 to fall asleep the first time.  But it's ok.  It's only 1:30....I can still get 5 good hours. And I had that nap from 8:30 until 9:00 PM...remember???  3:00 AM....the loudest whisper yell is in my ear "Moooooooommmmy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy!!" Oh for crying out loud....little mister is hovering over me....it's feels like I just fell back asleep.  Maybe it was a bad dream....unable to locate his favorite "blue blanket" in the dark....the need to potty from drinking a gallon of water before bed....hard to say...but he's up and needing some minor assistance to go back to sleep.  Done....I crawl back into bed.  I still have 3 hours before I have to get up.  It's okay....I try to convince myself. Then I think for a second that I should just get up and do the "me time" stuff I wanted to do at 9:00 PM...no that's dumb...sleep....I need my sleep!!! I'm officially losing it thinking that I should wake up at 3:30 AM to scrub toilets...fold laundry....return some emails...watch Dateline....and do some sit-ups!!

My dreams/hallucinations teeter between being startled awake thinking I'm being called in a whisper scream or I hear "something" on the baby monitor.  OR....and this is my preferred end of the spectrum....my bed...fresh sheets....lightly scented....a dark room that is completely silent, with only a gentle breeze moving in the trees, washing over my body, keeping me at the perfect temperature for blissful rest.....I drift off reading and only awaken by the warmth of the sun on my face and birds chirping.  Nirvana.  I'm sure some day...but not anytime soon.  And that's okay....I love that my littles need and want me and that's what keeps me going....but dammit....I do miss the 8 hours of sleep that used to be my norm!

 

 I implore you, if you have managed to solidly sleep for 6 hours straight, at least once this week.  Be thankful.  And when I crack....because I will, if this cycle doesn't stop soon, please come visit me at the hospital.  But not at night.  

 

Potty training is NOT for pansies!

If you are one of the lucky ones who had a just turned 3 year old wake up one morning and say *Yawn* "Mommy I'm done with diapers" *Big Stretch* and from that day moving forward never had one misstep to the toilet, embraced their new super hero undies with pride and would run not walk to the bathroom.  There may be no need for you to continue reading. 

Had our first and only experience with potty training been our second child, I may have never been compelled to reflect on the CIA esque "training" that I'm up to my eyeballs in with my older child currently.  My 11 month old daughter uses the potty, as if on command, like she was born knowing how, going on over a month now....she has a 98% success rate. I'm pretty sure she's my husbands favorite, because she's the only one in the house who seems to care about saving a dollar along with the environment and if she could only talk and/or walk herself to the bathroom...I'm certain that she'd be 100% "trained".  The girl has got it down.  

My son, my son on the other hand has been in the "program" as I like to call it for over a year now.  Yes, I said YEAR.  We started right after he turned 3, he wasn't showing any interest. But what the heck, we thought we'd give it a go. He's smart, but super busy and active...maybe he just needs some encouragement.  I was in the last trimester of my pregnancy and I'll be honest...shadowing my toddler like I was his understudy for a hot Broadway play was not at the top of my to-do list.  Watching him like a hawk, putting him on the potty every 15 minutes and not really being able to leave the house.  Yeah, my heart wasn't into it.  I had bigger fish to fry.  And after all....I had heard LOTS of urban mommy legends about how "they just were ready one day, and that was it", story after story of self trainers.  Cool.  Even better when I took him to his 3 year old well check visit and his pediatrician pretty much told us to stop, and I quote "If you push, he'll push back." Wonderful! We're off the hook...We can have our weekends back...Woooohooo!! Besides, the kid could not be bought or bribed.  No treat, sticker or toy seemed to motivate him.  Now I could retreat from stock piling Dollar Tree Store crap.

Life then moved forward, FAST.  Baby was born, toddler moved schools, we sold our house and moved to a new one, it was the holidays and we got hit hard with illness after illness. Can you say "REGRESSION CITY?!?"  And just like that, we are a year down the road and still struggling for an accident free weekend.  So I did it.  I got serious about it this past 3 day weekend.  My husband and I were committed and there was no turning back.  I am here to tell you....you DON'T KNOW POTTY TRAINING until you've spent a long weekend solely focused on it and by focused I mean, you feel like you're in a hostage situation.  Held up in a bathroom....just you and the resistant one.  There is a stack of children's books, a tablet (maybe watching a show will help), a couple of bottles of water, the foam letters and numbers from the tub to keep all parties entertained, yet educated at the same time (might as well kill two birds with one stone), and that's it.  There you sit, and wait, and wait and wait and wait and wait for nature to kick in....for me I passed the time in numerous ways, I used a towel as a pillow to lay down for a bit...keeping one eye on the kiddo at all times, there was no place to hide, I did a few sit-ups to feel productive too and that way if anyone asked how I spent my weekend I could honestly say that I worked out.  It felt a little bit like being in prison, if you could have a plush bathmat there. Not that I know what prison is like, this is just a guess. Stuck in a small room, not a lot to keep busy with, staring a toilet. Miserable right?

I'm here to tell you, if you say that you're still toilet training your just turned 4 year old...you're going to get some looks.  This is a mommy war that hits below the belt.  No one wants to still be buying diapers or cleaning up messes. Trust me.  To think that a parent is somehow at fault for this progression or lack there of is unfair to say the least. So don't do it, don't get caught up in judgmental stares when you see someone buying not just size 4 diapers for a baby, but size 6 too and pullups and underwear, because they want to be ready for anything. But I digress, back to the bathroom floor,  no one was leaving until a #2 happened in the toilet.  NO ONE. Because that is the part of the process that trips my son up. The kid has been peeing in the toilet like a champ, forever. But we all know...there are two parts to this puzzle.  At my last pediatrician visit I asked the doctor the same question...to which I was met with an unsettling reply...."This is normal, I have 5 year old patients that still don't go #2 in the toilet.  Don't worry, you aren't going to be breaking any records." Whaaaaaaaaaaat....hell no....I'm not going to have to quit my job over this to home school!  Although I do partly blame working full-time because consistency is the key in learning anything new and when you work hard on something Saturday and Sunday, then don't do anything with it Monday-Friday, can you really hope for the best outcome?  

So my husband and I took shifts this weekend, there were snack breaks and yard walks.  We were serious, but not cruel.  We talked about nothing else. We were primarily focused on the task at hand! My repetitive chants to my son were the background music of the weekend and potentially for the neighbors too, so sorry about that! In a cheerleading-like voice we had this exchange about 40 times:  Where do we go to the bathroom?? "On the toilet" Where do we ONLY go to the bathroom? "The toilet" When are we going to do that?? "All the time". You want to give up, you want to give in...wave the white flag and just hand the boy a pullup already.  But we didn't and we had a victory.  It's hard to process that a whole day was spent hanging out in a bathroom or by a potty, for one win.....but that's how this played out.  And guess what....it was worth it....I think we all shed a tear...my husband and mine were of happiness and joy....my son's...well I'm pretty sure his was relief...pure relief that we'd now get off of his ass *pun intended*...and relief for finally letting it go...we may have encouraged prunes as a snack...and he may have eaten more than a few.  Hey, these are tough times....and you do what you have to do!

So the next time someone complains about potty training their toddler...and it took them less then 3 days or only 3 days.  Tell them they don't know what they're talking about....unless you've been so starved that you ordered a pizza from your bathroom floor, because there was no time to cook.  The same floor that you were previously doing sit-ups on and reading 6 Elmo books about using the potty over and over again, you now have them memorized, along with binge watching Dinosaur Train, ALL DAY LONG with a half naked kiddo. You.Just.Don't.Know. 

Celebrating the Simple!

It is oh so true what they say…whoever “they” are.  That life is about enjoying the simple things.  The small victories are what makes our heart sing.  And for me, this couldn’t be more on point.

This has been a great week.  I was productive at work.  I kept my family alive to see another weekend.  And at the moment, we are all healthy.  Praise the LORD.  I didn’t realize how appreciative I’d be to have all four of us healthy at the same time.  You’d think that this would be an easy task, not so much.  My heart breaks for all of those who have to deal with chronic or serious illness! This day to day stuff is exhausting and I know that it could be so much worse.  The annoying childhood germ bugs that can’t be avoided are the bane of my existence.  One child gets sick, then the other the following week, then Dad, then Mom.  Sometimes all at once, that’s fun.  But usually it is evenly distributed over the course of a month.  So much so that I don’t remember what “healthy” feels like.  But then one day…no one is sick.  And I think…we should never leave the house AGAIN.  EVER.

Speaking of my house.  It, at the moment is not falling down around our ears.  The floors are clean, everything is wiped down and looking good.  But don’t look in the hallway, there you’ll find 5 loads of clean, unfolded laundry, chilling getting super wrinkled and don’t go into the garage, you could get hurt!! But overall, not too shabby!  The kids aren’t home just yet, so this is only going to last another 10 minutes or so.

I’ve stocked my fridge and pantry for the week.  No foreseeable need to venture out this weekend.  Which gives me an unreasonable amount of joy and happiness. Hold that thought, was just informed by the hubby that the keg is tapped out and we need beer for the long weekend….off to Costco I go.  It would have felt weird to not join the masses anyway.

I offered to do something for someone and I actually did it.  No need to go into the details.  But we’ve all been there.  Offer to do something nice and not labor intensive, but there is no immediate need.  And you forget, that is until you see that person again and feel like a jackass.  But I’m no jackass this week.  I offered and executed.  Win.

I put photos in my daughter’s photo album.  It was 6 pictures.  But still…it’s a start!!

And lastly.  I had ONE baby gift, ONE first birthday gift and FIVE out of town graduation gifts to package and mail.  Before the baby outgrew the onesie, before the toddler had moved past the baby puzzles and before it was no longer 2015 and the gifts that I purchased with “Class of 2015” peppered all over them were no longer relevant (because that has happened circa 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013 and 2014, for which I apologize).  And I DID it, I boxed them up, wrote in cards and drove my tooshie to my nearest Postal center.  I’m pretty sure that I either danced or skipped on my way out of the Post Office, SO HAPPY.  This is my life.  Timely mailings of cards and packages equal pride and victory and I’m going to relish in the moment.  How I came to this place is a mystery, but more importantly I don’t care and I’m feeling pretty good about myself! 

This momma is celebrating a hugely uneventful, yet so successful week.  Starting with a glass of wine….and if I want to go for the gold…maybe I’ll start folding.  

A Tale of Two Colds.

Two people have colds…maybe allergies…..either way, not feeling awesome.   Their symptoms are identical.

Here’s a synopsis of what transpires over a 48 hour period:

Person A:  Sigh, moan, cough, sigh, sneeze, moan, cough, more like hacking.  I just feel awful,  just terrible…clears throat.  Sigh, sneeze, deep breath, more moaning.  Some throat clearing *loudly*, sighing, another big breath.  Sniffle, sneeze, cough, sniffle,  clears throat.  Big deep breath, pathetic moan, obnoxious sniffling and coughing ensues.  Can hardly get through the day.  This continues for a solid 2 days.  I won’t give you the entire transcript, as I’m already annoyed by what I just typed.  But you get the idea.

Person B:  Suffers silently, confident that this too shall pass. Life goes on.

My husband is “Person A”, I am “Person B”. Shocking, I know.  And before I start getting hate mail from the guys.  Please note…this IS funny because it’s true.  You know it.  Own it.  And while there are certainly exceptions to the rule….most males can’t take sickness “like a man”.  Generally, illness + men= disaster. 

So it got me thinking.   There should be a halfway house that husbands can go to when they’re sick.  A safe place, where eye rolling does not exist and the people there are happy to listen to you complain incisively.  They will gladly cater to your every whim…bring you OJ, make you soup…unless of course it’s too warm outside and soup doesn’t sound good to you, so you’d rather have a nice fruit salad or something…they’ll do that…because that’s their job.  They will leave you alone to suffer properly, and by properly I mean watching TV, playing video games or reading a book on the couch.  There will be no one to yell at you “get up off your butt and help with the kids, you giant baby”. No that doesn’t ever happen at the house of Manly Sickness.  But before you get worried ladies that your men will catch a cold and never come home…fear not…because remember there are others like your man staying at this house too….moan, sigh, sneeze, cough, sniffle, big breath, sad moan.  They’ll want to get the heck out of there real quick, just like you want to run away from home when they are with you and under the weather.

So who’s going to start this business venture? Anyone?? I’ll take your first lifetime membership!  Please.  Because if I have to listen to one more, sigh, moan, hacking cough, sneeze or sniffle that is non life-threatening and over exaggerated like someone is trying to win an Academy Award…I’m going to scream!

As you can see my husband has been fighting the good fight with the pharmaceuticals below and I will happily pack these up for him to share with his new friends at the house. 

 

It Goes Way Beyond Dirt and Dinosaurs.

You’re having a BOY!! What??? No, that can’t be right…I’m as girlie as they get…I “felt” as though I was expecting a girl…I’ve been calling this baby Delaney for the last 5 months!  A boy?!?!? What am I supposed to do with a boy??

After the shock wore off,  the excitement started to settle in! I’m married to a male, I have 3 younger brothers, my husband isn’t my first relationship….clearly I like and I’m familiar with boys.  I can raise a boy.

I knew what to expect (somewhat) and have a plan in raising him to be a well-rounded little dude.  Despite my best efforts to maintain a degree of gender neutralism in our home, for example: by buying him a play kitchen in which he plays “house” where sometimes he’s the “Mom” sometime the “Dad” and sometimes the “Grandma”, I still can’t control what he mostly gravitates towards, which is ALL of the stereotypical “boy” stuff…dirt, monster trucks, trains, bugs, rough housing, the color blue, being gross and at times inappropriate. I still feel confident that he’s well on his way to being a great, thoughtful and sensitive gentleman someday.  Not a beer guzzling, belching jerk.

 Even though I felt pretty prepared to have another male in my life, my son still manages to surprise me on a regular basis, even four years into the job.  This past week has been no exception.  Starting with a bowling party that we went to last Saturday…In-between sets he rested his head amongst two bowling balls…as though it was the most comfortable spot in the place…not the loungey sofas….but the bowling balls…I couldn’t stop him.  You like what you like, right?   

 

 

Later in the week as I was putting him to bed and he farted…loud.   Before I could remind him to say excuse me he said “My butt is talking” and he proceeded to blow several raspberries.  Intrigued I asked him what his butt was saying….to which he replied.  “I don’t know, it’s baby talk.” I guess we’ll have to ask your little sister to translate.   

The next day as I was getting him in the bath I noticed that he had dirt in EVERY nook and cranny…what the heck? “I like to roll around in the dirt like a pig.” he said. Alrighty.  5 minutes later he was snorting, needing to blow his nose.  When I handed him a tissue he refused.  “I’m just sounding like a pig and breathing at the same time.” Did he go on a fieldtrip to a farm without my permission? Why all of a sudden is he channeling a pig?  I don’t have the answer for what makes a boy's boy tick.  I just know that I’m going to have to up my aromatherapy game before puberty hits.  So bring on the boogers and ball scratching…I’ve got his. 

Patience for the Picky Eater.

Tonight’s dinner for my 4 year old consisted of blueberries, a slice of cheddar cheese, a bowl of cheerios, ¾ of toasted pub bun (which happened to belong to my salmon burger, that I’m happy to share, I don’t need the calories), a plate of baked steak fries and a 50/50 mix of OJ and water.  Don’t judge…if you are the proud parent of a picky eater, you understand.    I NEVER understood…until I had a picky eater.  The only thing I didn’t like as a child was liver and onions and beef tongue *both VERY reasonable dislikes* and mashed potatoes…maybe a texture thing…maybe they were instant??? Who knows…I’ll still pass on the liver and onions and beef tongue today…but bring me a plate of garlicky, cheesy mashed potatoes and I’m all in! Which gives me hope for my son…picky today….a foodie tomorrow!?!  But that still doesn’t mean that I don’t get frustrated from time to time….for example:  Are you eating freaking chicken nuggets this week or not????

 In my freezer I’ve got 3 different varieties of “nuggets”…Dino…which were popular for some time….Micky Mouse….less popular *mostly rejected* and “regular” which seem to be hit or miss.  What the hell??? A chicken nugget is a chicken nugget, right??? Not so much…As far as I’m concerned they’re all nasty.  But my son, he knows what he likes and what's unacceptable.  Right now nuggets are out.  Maybe tomorrow they will be in.  Who knows!?!  This is why I keep them all until they’re gone, collecting freezer burn.   I know this for sure.  I don’t believe that for one minute at 22 he’ll only being eating a strict diet of peanut butter, pancakes, grilled cheese, fruit, yogurt, cucumbers, carrots and gummies.  So maybe I should go ahead and make a reservation for him and I….in the spring of 2033 at French Laundry in Napa?  As a sign of faith.  I would have never thought that I’d be sad that my child wouldn’t eat pizza or mac & cheese.  I should be celebrating this…not upset!  I know that this kid in going to turn the corner at some point and be stealing my salad and asking to order a whole pizza….as for now…as long as he has a fruit, veggie and a reasonable amount of protein in a 24 hour period, I’m happy! 

And for all you parents who have toddlers loving on quinoa, kale and tofu…congratulations.  I’m happy for you.  But guess what, that doesn’t make you a superior parent.  So if you roll your eyes at my cheese stick-breakfast bar-fruit leather loving son one more time…your eyes are going to stay in the back of your head!   Just saying…we all should pick our battles…within our walls and outside of them too.

Baby FEVER!!

I'm not talking about a baby having a fever, but rather the unscratchable itch (for me that is) to have another baby.  That train has left the station, and is NOT returning.  My age being factor #1 along with the fact that two is already more than we can really handle.  I've joked a lot over the last eleven months that having one child is like being a national guardsman and having two is like being a navy seal...both very respectable jobs, but there are things that a navy seal sees that a national guardsman is NEVER going to see.

But here as I'm planning by daughter's First Birthday, friends all around me near and far are having or expecting babies and I want another one....shhhh don't tell my husband.  It's asinine.  If everyone was joining a cult, would I want to as well, absolutely not.  So how did I get bit by the baby bug??  Our life works with the four of us...right sized cars, right sized house, one to one ratio...which makes sense with travel, errands and down the road extracurricular activities.  Heck, roller coasters even...no one has to sit alone.  But I'm left to wonder.  What would three babies have looked like?  Have I already forgotten the uncomfortableless of being pregnant for nine months?  It hasn't even been a year, yet I have ONLY super happy memories of that time.  Come on brain, remember the nausea, back pain, heartburn and overall discomfort.   It's not like labor, C-sections and breastfeeding were a walk in the park either.  But all I can think about is those sweet little babies.  That baby smell, their little cries, mini everything.   Why does this happen??? I know that I can't be alone in these feelings.  If I had started younger, had more money than Oprah and a willing partner, would I have had six???  Who knows! I adore the two I've got and I'm beyond grateful.

But if I'm being honest, getting out the door with two on a daily basis is a miracle in of itself.  We'll be lucky if we can successfully help them with college and still manage to retire before 70.  And I haven't even factored in extra vehicles, sports, proms or weddings.  So why am I torturing myself with the would've, could've, should've's???

Maybe I should have kept a journal of pregnancy and childbirth in real time. Because let me tell you "pregnancy brain" in no joke!!  I'm surprised that science, government and the pharmaceutical industry hasn't tapped into duplicating whatever hormone combination it is that causes one to suppress anything negative or painful and you're only be able to remember happy, happy, joy, joy.   Nature is AMAZING.  I don't like to take medicine and I'm not one to self medicate *wine doesn't count* but if they came up with a *safe* "preggo brain pill" I'd be inclined to try it. 

Think about it....you have a terrible week at work...pop a "preggo brain pill"...and you only remember that yummy lunch on Wednesday and the client who told you that you're awesome.  Bad travel experience with the family...no problem "preggo brain pill" will take care of that...you got from point A to point B and back to A again successfully...that's all you need to remember.  A terrible stomach bug runs rampant through your home..."preggo brain pill" to the rescue.  All you see is that every linen in your home has been freshly laundered and the scale is telling you that you're ten pounds lighter, yet you can't remember the last time you went to the gym.  Lovely.

*Sigh* I guess I'll just have to love on friends and family's squishy babies. Or go to WalMart on a Saturday.  That always seemed to help me back when my maternal gravity pull was tugging on me hard before I had kids....20 minutes in a busy WalMart....and I was good as new. All better.  No baby, no problem. Just get me the hell out of there.

When you spend Mother’s Day being a MOM.

Not every Mother’s Day is going to be breakfast in bed, roses, spa treatments, shopping sprees, me time or fancy meals out.  Some Mother’s Days will be spent just being a Mom in a very unglamorous way and that’s okay, in fact that’s more than okay, because being a Momma is what got you the privilege of being honored on this day in the first place.

Let me start by saying that is by no means meant to be a dig on my husband.  I indeed did tell him that I didn’t want to do anything for Mother’s Day…so be careful what you ask for…you just might just get it. 

The morning started out…well…earlier than I had hoped for.  I had got home rather late from going over to a girlfriend’s to watch a movie.  At 1:45 AM my 11 month old uncharacteristically woke up crying, no settling her back down, so a bottle for little Miss was the fix.  Just as I was drifting back to sleep…say around 3:00 AM my 4 year old came in our room... in a quiet whisper….”Mommy, come lay down with me.” So off I went…down the hall…across the way….we snuggled in his twin sized bed.  There his allergies were getting the better of him…nothing quite like being sneezed on less than an inch from your face.  After tossing and turning…I got up to get him a tissue *the sniffling was out of control*.  While grabbing said tissue in the bathroom, I noticed that the sun was coming up.  Super.  We finally fell back asleep.  But then the baby woke up…so much for sleeping in.   

Propped up next to my coffee pot was a lovely card from my husband.  “You’re the greatest mother and wife the kids and I could ask for, don’t change anything.” Wonderful…I wasn’t planning on it.  Was this to be a precursor for the day?

My husband asked if he could microwave me a muffin…mmmm….no that’s okay.  I counter, “How about a mimosa?”.  To which he replied…”How about a Bloody Mary? I cleaned out the fridge and there’s an old container of mix that’s been in there awhile and needs to be used so that I can throw it in the recycling.” Well doesn’t that just sound irresistible….yes, please. I’ll take that God knows how old Bloody Mary that happens to have JUST enough for ONE cocktail, sounds greeeeaaat.  He gives me my drink…no garnish. The disappointment starts to creep in.

The plan all along was for him to go see his mother for a bit…take the kids so that I could do whatever, organize*which I happen to love*, garden, go to the gym…whatever.  But the baby was sleeping and the 4 year old was very comfortable in his weekend uniform of underwear…and nothing else. So I told him to go solo, tell his family I said hello and I’d see him later.  Well naturally the baby woke up the minute he closed the front door.  And this begun the highlight of my day…the kids and I played for hours, and hours….and well hours…he was gone a long time.  We had so much fun and it made me sad that I miss this kind of activity day in and day out while I’m at work.  But darn it…I hadn’t gotten dressed yet and it was after 3:00 PM.  I had dealt with more poop then I wish to go into detail about throughout the day.  Had done four loads of laundry and was ready for a break. I'm quickly reminded why I like to work. Once he was home I may have not been super thrilled or nice for that matter.  It was too late for any of my projects, too late to go to the gym…but what it wasn’t too late for…was for me to make dinner.  He took the kids for a walk, because I was not “decent” to be out in public *my call, not his*. And then we all sat down together and had a lovely meal.  I may have not gotten dressed for the day…but I had the most important people sitting beside me.  I love my precious little blessings more than anything else in life.  And while I may not hate being pampered, and will welcome that in the future.  It's not about me anymore and I'm good with that.  

After the kids went to sleep, the real fun began.  I looked around my house and realized that with a busy Saturday the day before nothing had got done that normally happens on the weekends.  So off I went….dusting, mopping, scrubbing and cleaning away.  With trash day being the next morning I wanted to run everything out.  I quickly realized that this would be the first time today I went out the front door….it was 10:55 PM….I put on some lip gloss….you just don’t ever know.

Once back inside and ready to jump into the shower and put on NEW pj’s….I expressed my frustration with how the day turned out to my husband….1) no pictures with the kids and I today…sad mommy….his solution….you can take a picture with them tomorrow…no one has to know.  2) I did all the cooking and cleaning today, like I do every day.  And his reply…well his reply is what I will end with.  “You didn’t make me breakfast, I fended for myself this morning….BECAUSE…it was Mother’s Day.”  Have mercy….there’s always next year.  And speaking of full circle…guess who got summoned at 3:30 AM again….that twin bed is starting to feel mighty comfortable!

Here is a photo of my beautiful family…not from yesterday of course, but another recent Sunday in which we all got dressed for the day.       

So you're going to be a MOM!

We all come to the news that our life is about to change in ways that we can’t even begin to imagine, in a similar and unceremonious fashion, generally.  Regardless of your socioeconomic background, age or location…you may have peed on a stick and are anxiously waiting the results in your bathroom…maybe you got a call from your doctor’s office or adoption agency at 3:00 PM on a Wednesday.  However the news came to you, I feel like there should be a better way….flowers, balloons, a marching band….heck the first of many parental instruction books giftwrapped up with a beautiful bow….something more than just…bam…you’re going to be a MOM! The emotions that follow are pretty standard no matter if this has been something that you’ve been dreaming about your whole life…or a welcome surprise….SHOCK, EXCITEMENT, FEAR….REPEAT and REPEAT again…and a few more times for good measure.  You are baffled by the science and miracle of it all, scared for everything that lies ahead and thrilled at the same time. 

What happens next is an overload of information like you’ve never experienced before….think of your most stressful learning moments….finals, a new job, putting together your first Ikea furniture purchase that happens to have a thousand pieces, take those feelings and multiply that by a million.  And there you go, prep for being a Mother has begun.  How to feel, what to buy, do this, don’t do that, as if you don’t have enough going on.  The advice solicited or not is at an all-time high.  Impossible to process, but yet we try.  We try to do the very best we can, after all….this is a BIG deal….bigger than anything else that we’ve  ever done before and if that's not heavy…I don’t know what is.  But it’s like preparing for a natural disaster.  You can only do so much.  At some point you just need to rely on your instincts, hope for the best and pray.  Yes, I just compared motherhood to a natural disaster.  Deal with it.

Next is the love, a love for someone that you’ve yet to meet.  A love more powerful and dare I say more dangerous then you could ever imagine.  You would do anything for this little person…ANYTHING.  Your mind goes places that you didn’t even know existed.  You’d throw yourself in front of a moving train for your child….check.  Stab someone in the neck with a fork if they harmed your child…check *don’t lie, you’ve thought about it*.  And this love works both ways.  Today is Mother’s Day and my news feed on Facebook is chock-full of nothing but love for Momma’s around the world.  It’s amazing, powerful and lovely and I’d be fibbing if I didn’t admit that the beauty of it all is making me tear up.  There is nothing like it.  Because of this new found, overwhelming emotion you will NEVER be able to watch the news in the same way or look at another child without having it touch your heart in some capacity. There is no putting this toothpaste back in the tube so don't even try.   It is pointless to fight it, the sooner that you embrace this change in yourself, the better.  The momma bear claws come out, they are fierce and not to be messed with.  This realization made me feel like a super hero, before I even gave birth and that’s saying a lot!  

Oh the birthing.  That is a subject which needs its very own blog, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention it on Mother’s Day. Easy pregnancy, bed rest for nine months.  Birth plan, no birth plan.  Home birth, C-section.  Pain management, all natural.  Open adoption, closed adoption.  No matter how your child made its way into the world.  It wasn’t easy and it’s a beautiful miracle.  Be proud. 

Be proud Mommas!! You’re doing a GREAT job.  I don’t care if you drank coffee, wine and ate sushi while pregnant or followed every “rule”.  I don’t care if you breastfed or formula fed.  I don’t care if you grow your own organic veggies and make your own baby food or buy the jarred stuff.  I don’t care if you co-sleep or sleep train.  Go to church, don't do to church.  Antibiotics or essential oils, makes no difference to me.  I don’t care if your babies wear designer duds, you sew all of their clothes or if they only wear hand-me-downs. Screen time, no screen time, who cares.  None of this matters one bit.  If you love your little ones with all your heart and do the very best that you can.   You are doing more than enough and your babies are LUCKY to call you Mommy.  Happy Mother’s Day today….and congratulations on the other 364, less celebrated Mother’s Days of the year too! You are PHENOMENAL!  And if you aren't totally being pampered today.   Don't feel bad, don't be sad.  You are APPRECIATED more than you'll ever know.