For some time, I've been working on topics for this blog. Some are long and some are short, some memorable or flippant, some are good advice and some are the ramblings of a lady who feels older every day. So as hurricane Isaac gets closer to Missouri, a place we don't EVER worry about hurricanes, I'm planning my day for tomorrow. It's supposed to be pouring rain. Which brings me to my topic today, the best tool in your "mommy arsenal" is your car.
I have no idea how new yorker mommies do it, my car is one of my best friends. Without my car, I'd be lost. I'd carry around big bags of stuff like other mommies, pretending to be a pack mule and that each piece of luggage is a necessary and essential part of the day. I drive a Honda Pilot, which isn't really a car at all, but an SUV. I've had people try to talk me into a Mini Van, and although I dearly miss my Camry's gas mileage, and my mustang GT, the Pilot is about as good as it gets. I happened to luck into a deluxe model, which not only has a DVD player to keep the kids quiet, but has a snazzy system that allows them to watch TV while I play the radio up front. I love music. Happy or sad, there's a song for every mood.
I used to be one of those parents who hated car DVD players. Why would the kids need to watch TV in the car? They'll miss all the wonderful sights on the highway. When I was little, we used to look out the winder and yada yada. Really, we take the same route into town each day and nothing ever really changes on it. Gradually I learned that car time is my time.. It's a great opportunity to turn on the DVD player and while it's quiet, return a missed phone call, make a mental grocery list, or do my makeup. Just kidding, never do your makeup in the car.
My Pilot carries all of my crap. Dozens of diapers in different sizes, the double stroller, multiple changes of clothes for each family member just "in case", my wallet, spare change and cash, an extra pair of flip flops in case my shoes make my feet hurt, toys and movies for the kids, snacks, an umbrella, and anything else I need. It has a flat deck area in back for diaper changes in the parking lot, and the hatch will keep me dry while I change that diaper in the rain. That will come in handy tomorrow while I'm running to the store, dropping my son off at school, and going on a play date with my daughter. Noah can build the ark, and I'll still run errands.
In the war for motherhood, your car is the absolute best tool. I never have to carry around bags of stuff like other moms, especially since I have three kids, I don't have a hand to devote to a huge bag or purse. My car IS my purse. And it even makes my butt look smaller.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Welome Home, Baby
I have a friend who just adopted her second child. I just can't wrap my mind around it. She must have the patience of a school marm because she weathers all my inane questions without any snide remarks. I couldn't handle people being in my business with so much detail. She flew to pick up her little boy, alone, into a tempestuous part of the world, while her husband stayed home with their first child. I think shes a pretty brave lady. Not just because she made this journey, twice, with a little boy, but because she's willing to take on this resposibility for the rest of her life without the genetic "safety net" the rest of us have.
I think I need that 40 week duration before the baby's born to steele my resolve that I have to make this work. It's not at all like the waiting period on a new gun, once you're pregnant, the baby is a cash and carry deal. No returns. Of course, my babies can probably feel my hesitation, which is why they are more like 42 weekers.
Once they are born, I don't have time to stop and think "What have I done?" The baby needs milk, the baby needs changed, the baby needs rocked, the baby needs me. When they're born, they already recognize my voice, my smell, my husband's voice, and sometimes our basic habits like being lulled to sleep by the car or calmed by my favorite music (thank you sarah brightman). The baby is soothed by our familiarity. I'm a co-sleeper, which I know is a very controversial topic, but we haven't squished a baby yet, so I think it's ok. And the baby usually sleeps better and more soundly when they sleep next to us than in their cribs.
My friend doen't have such luxury. Her family has to welcome this new child, and convince him that they're in for the long haul. After being abandoned by his mother, I'm sure it's a struggle to trust anyone again, maybe especially people who are pretty foreign to you. He doesn't know your voice, your smell, heck, this is a totally different country than he was used to. I can't imaging as a mother, beginning at that point. Takes guts. And patience.
I'm excited for her struggle, mostly because I know it takes a village to raise a baby, and I hope th, at in some small way we can help her family bolster the idea that we are all together, for the long haul. And hopefully he will get to know all these things, smells, people, and places so that they can comfort him in the future. Welcome home, baby.
I think I need that 40 week duration before the baby's born to steele my resolve that I have to make this work. It's not at all like the waiting period on a new gun, once you're pregnant, the baby is a cash and carry deal. No returns. Of course, my babies can probably feel my hesitation, which is why they are more like 42 weekers.
Once they are born, I don't have time to stop and think "What have I done?" The baby needs milk, the baby needs changed, the baby needs rocked, the baby needs me. When they're born, they already recognize my voice, my smell, my husband's voice, and sometimes our basic habits like being lulled to sleep by the car or calmed by my favorite music (thank you sarah brightman). The baby is soothed by our familiarity. I'm a co-sleeper, which I know is a very controversial topic, but we haven't squished a baby yet, so I think it's ok. And the baby usually sleeps better and more soundly when they sleep next to us than in their cribs.
My friend doen't have such luxury. Her family has to welcome this new child, and convince him that they're in for the long haul. After being abandoned by his mother, I'm sure it's a struggle to trust anyone again, maybe especially people who are pretty foreign to you. He doesn't know your voice, your smell, heck, this is a totally different country than he was used to. I can't imaging as a mother, beginning at that point. Takes guts. And patience.
I'm excited for her struggle, mostly because I know it takes a village to raise a baby, and I hope th, at in some small way we can help her family bolster the idea that we are all together, for the long haul. And hopefully he will get to know all these things, smells, people, and places so that they can comfort him in the future. Welcome home, baby.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Evolution of a Dream
My dad says all the time that he wants to move to the beach. He's been saying this for the 22 years I've known him. He's said this since the first day my moms started dating him. He said it before my little sister was born and every day since. He has no plan on what to do when he gets there, he just wants to live by the beach. He's moved from Texas to Kansas city and back twice, but has moved no further towards the coast. I've never understood why.
When I was five, I wanted to be a dancer. Then I saw what
dancers should look like, and what they eat, and decided that I wanted to be
part of the Canadian Royal Mounted Police. Mounties get to ride horses all day,
saving people from terrible danger, avid the wonderful and wild vistas of
Canada. Sounds peachy, right? Sure, throw in a Nora Roberts type romance, and
bingo! Exciting future awaits.
Somewhere between 5 years old and my 21st birthday when I met a guy, my resolve to move north waned a little. He was cute, and horribly smart and I gave him my number before he asked. I realized that it was my new dream to marry him. Two years later, we were married and began fending off questions from his family about when we would start having kids. I was finishing college before I realized that I probably needed to get an adult type job. In America, there are very few mounted police. This was a harsh fact for me to accept. The fact that most of our local police are less than well educated was an even harsher fact for me to digest after I became a county sheriff.
Achieving part of a childhood dream is an interesting thing. By the time the county commissioner was swearing me in, I realized that my heart wasn't really in this type of law enforcement. My new dream was to have a baby. I spent two years at the SO before I had my first son and became a stay at home mom.
Holding that sweet little boy in my arms, all I wanted to be was the best mom ever. Which was a great dream to have since his little sister, and brother came less than four years later. While I was raising my kids, and building two businesses, I started to dream of the perfect home.
We had bought our house with the idea that we would ad onto it some time in the future. We were always in the middle of having a baby, or short on funds. I talked my husband into taking the leap. I had a 5 year timeline planned out to finish the remodel, but 18 months later, we are almost finished. Seems amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it.
So here I am, at 32 years old and I don't have a dream. Or maybe you could say that all my dreams have come true. I don't feel like a Disney princess, especially knee deep in dirty laundry, dirty diapers and dirty dishes. But we are happy, really happy. And now I do realize what's kept my dad from moving to the beach. My sister and I are in Missouri. Suddenly Canada doesn't look so peachy after all.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Party's Over: A note about nursing
Driving home yesterday, I saw a billboard that read "Life doesn't end at breastfeeding." I'm certain a man printed this sentiment. And although the experience of nursing our three wonderful babies has brought me much bonding with them, quiet time, and some introspection, I wouldn't tell other moms that the party continues after baby decides you're an all you can eat diner.
Apparently I could feed triples in a desert in the middle of a drought. I've always been that way. Too much milk is a horrible problem, so much so that it usually results in me screaming at my husband, crying, and wandering around the house topless until my supply can calm down. It's always been my argument that if his balls suddenly swelled to three times their normal size, he'd be crying too. It's hands down the worst pain I've felt including child birth, breaking my ankle in eight places at once and being burnt by an acetylene torch. I'd go through it again. Mostly because I've heard stories from other moms who had been robbed or talked out of nursing their babies by crappy nurses and doctors who were too busy to help them. Honestly it's just easier for them to demand the baby take formula.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm no nursing Nazi. I'm a total freedom of choice mommy. But I know that a support system is necessary to successfully nurse a baby, especially in the first 36 hours. You also need someone to push drinking water into your hand every time the baby gets hungry. Luckily by now my husbands got that down. Unfortunately, the road to nursing success is long, and hard, and usually a little painful unless you're a nursing savant. I'm not. You'd think that something so basic and essential to the babies survival would be easy. Alas, not so.
We all know the reasons it's a good idea to breastfeed. Better for the baby, better for you, lose post baby weight faster, cheaper and easier than formula, no bottles needed and on and on. What they don't tell you in all the public service announcements is that its terribly lonely. All the baby books would have you believe that you spend tons of time nursing the baby and gazing wondrously into your newborns eyes contemplating the joys of your union and togetherness. That's crap. Usually, the little sluggers fall asleep about three minutes after you "plug them in" and then you're left playing human pacifier to them until they nod off completely. So what do you do then? Assuming that you're like me, you aren't nursing in front of strangers with your first child. I didn't. I'd run to the bathroom, hoping that there was a chair, or the nursing room at the mall or the car in a pinch. I'm pretty sure it makes my father in law uncomfortable, so I'd head to the sitting room away from everyone else when the baby started getting fussy. That's when you up your score, one handed, on angry birds. I'd say this qualifies as the party being OVER.
A long long time ago, when my son was small, my in laws had just bought a lake house. We drove down to visit, and one of the neighbors invited us all out on his speed boat. Assume the nursling cant be away from me more than 90 minutes or so, and I have no idea when the SS Minnow would return. A baby has NO reason to be on a speed boat right? So I spent the afternoon cooling my heels with the baby treating me like an open bar. I'd say this qualifies as a serious downer.
Another time, my husband's brother and sister in law were in town from Alaska. We drove 45 minutes away for some of the best friend chicken on earth. Of course, baby got hungry right as the plates hit the table, so I spent the next 40 minutes or so nursing him in the restroom. We finally get back to the table and my dinner's been boxed up. I will NOT cry in front of family in a post-natal hormonal temper tantrum brought on by low blood sugar. Just keep repeating that and it will become true, right? Complete party fail.
So my point here ladies (and maybe a few gents) is that we are doing no favors to the mommies of tomorrow by ill preparing them for breastfeeding. The party IS over because you're nursing. You cant just go off and do whatever you want anytime you feel like it anymore. That baby needs you, and nature is going to do its best to insure that you want to be with that baby. The real story is that it doesn't have anything to do with nursing, but everything to do with parenthood. Believe me, the party's over for the next 18 years at least. Welcome to the next evolution.
Apparently I could feed triples in a desert in the middle of a drought. I've always been that way. Too much milk is a horrible problem, so much so that it usually results in me screaming at my husband, crying, and wandering around the house topless until my supply can calm down. It's always been my argument that if his balls suddenly swelled to three times their normal size, he'd be crying too. It's hands down the worst pain I've felt including child birth, breaking my ankle in eight places at once and being burnt by an acetylene torch. I'd go through it again. Mostly because I've heard stories from other moms who had been robbed or talked out of nursing their babies by crappy nurses and doctors who were too busy to help them. Honestly it's just easier for them to demand the baby take formula.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm no nursing Nazi. I'm a total freedom of choice mommy. But I know that a support system is necessary to successfully nurse a baby, especially in the first 36 hours. You also need someone to push drinking water into your hand every time the baby gets hungry. Luckily by now my husbands got that down. Unfortunately, the road to nursing success is long, and hard, and usually a little painful unless you're a nursing savant. I'm not. You'd think that something so basic and essential to the babies survival would be easy. Alas, not so.
We all know the reasons it's a good idea to breastfeed. Better for the baby, better for you, lose post baby weight faster, cheaper and easier than formula, no bottles needed and on and on. What they don't tell you in all the public service announcements is that its terribly lonely. All the baby books would have you believe that you spend tons of time nursing the baby and gazing wondrously into your newborns eyes contemplating the joys of your union and togetherness. That's crap. Usually, the little sluggers fall asleep about three minutes after you "plug them in" and then you're left playing human pacifier to them until they nod off completely. So what do you do then? Assuming that you're like me, you aren't nursing in front of strangers with your first child. I didn't. I'd run to the bathroom, hoping that there was a chair, or the nursing room at the mall or the car in a pinch. I'm pretty sure it makes my father in law uncomfortable, so I'd head to the sitting room away from everyone else when the baby started getting fussy. That's when you up your score, one handed, on angry birds. I'd say this qualifies as the party being OVER.
A long long time ago, when my son was small, my in laws had just bought a lake house. We drove down to visit, and one of the neighbors invited us all out on his speed boat. Assume the nursling cant be away from me more than 90 minutes or so, and I have no idea when the SS Minnow would return. A baby has NO reason to be on a speed boat right? So I spent the afternoon cooling my heels with the baby treating me like an open bar. I'd say this qualifies as a serious downer.
Another time, my husband's brother and sister in law were in town from Alaska. We drove 45 minutes away for some of the best friend chicken on earth. Of course, baby got hungry right as the plates hit the table, so I spent the next 40 minutes or so nursing him in the restroom. We finally get back to the table and my dinner's been boxed up. I will NOT cry in front of family in a post-natal hormonal temper tantrum brought on by low blood sugar. Just keep repeating that and it will become true, right? Complete party fail.
So my point here ladies (and maybe a few gents) is that we are doing no favors to the mommies of tomorrow by ill preparing them for breastfeeding. The party IS over because you're nursing. You cant just go off and do whatever you want anytime you feel like it anymore. That baby needs you, and nature is going to do its best to insure that you want to be with that baby. The real story is that it doesn't have anything to do with nursing, but everything to do with parenthood. Believe me, the party's over for the next 18 years at least. Welcome to the next evolution.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Just Breathe
I have never had a near death experience, at least none that I can remember. I'm sure that my brother and I probably gave my mom quite a few heart attacks. There have been a couple times that my kids' lives have flashed in front of me, whisked by in a smear of color and I have enough time to think "oh, shit" before shoving that fear away and acting to prevent or deflect most of the danger. My shrink has called this "compartmentalizing" and aparently I'm great at it. Unfortunately that emotion usually presents itself later at the least opportune time.
I find it imortant to designate care givers because we have so many children. I'm not sure how other moms handle this, but I have this need to designate which kids are which adult's responsibility any time we get out of the car or leave a building. Because parking lots and crowd are dangerous for tiny kids. The problem is when the adults don't pay enough attention.
This first time we had a miscommunication, my son wound up running towards a busy street. He thought he was playing and running around our parallel parked car. Of course he didn't notice the busy road, or the oncoming traffic. We had stopped in between the parked cars, to say goodbye to my mom, her boyfriend, and my sister after having dinner with them. Just as I looked at my husband and said "Where's Liam" we all saw him (then 3) running around the front corner of the car towards the street. Luckily, my moms boyfriend was the farthest from us, and being a quick thinking guy, he ran in the opposite direction around the car, sweeping up my son just before he ran out into the road. Definitely an oh shit moment. This being the first time I'd been exposed to one of my kids almost getting creamed, I didn't even know what to say. I wound up just looking over at him and nodding, inadequately speechless. I vowed then to be better prepared.
The second time left me feeling just as guilty, powerless and angry at myself. My daughter, then about a year old, fell off a step at a friends house. Literally, one step. About nine inches. In full view of three adults. Of course, she fell backwards smacking her head on the tile floor. First she started crying and then she siezed up and stopped breathing. This was a great time to push away that oh shit feeling. My husband had headed upstairs to get her pacifier before he knew she was really hurt. I told our friend to call 911, and laid her on the kitchen cabinet to start CPR. In my head all I could think about was our First Resonder class teacher in college saying "if you have to start CPR, they're already dead." Of course while I was trying to remember the number of compressions for each breath she started breathing again on her own. Fast forward to me bawling over her in the ER while she played happily as if nothing ever happened.
This experience also left me a little empowered. I'm not happy at all that she was hurt, but it is a bit comforting that when she needed help, I could remember what to do.
So today, we went out to feed the horses, and my daughter trailed along. To feed them, we have to roll a 2000lb. round bale of hay about ten feet and then toss a heavy metal ring around it. We had rolled the hay out (our tractor is too small to lift one up) and I was standing by my daughter about eight feet from the bale, while my husband rolled the ring over to drop down around the hay bale. If you cant see this in your mind, google bale ring feeder. Our baby horse was on the far side of the bale so I told my husband not to drop the feeder ring onto her. I wasnt' paying attention to him, because my daughter began picking up handfulls of dirt and yelling "a me!" which means "look at me". When the feeder ring hit the ground, it scared our other three adult horses into running right at us. Lady, our paint mare who is approximately 1200lbs spooked toward us and I could see her whole body jump sideways with all four hooves off the ground. Her right side was toward us and she angled to run away from the bale, right into us. I had a moment to think oh shit, and pivoted to be between the horse and my tiny daughter. She screamed and I closed my eyes and just breathed, waiting for Lady to smack into me. I have no idea how she avoided us. If she hadn't, it would have been BAD. Instead she brushed right by me out into the pasture without a sound.
So I guess the message here is to just breathe but maybe not with my eyes closed this time. I can't wait our entire lives for the next awful thing to happen or not. I'd could get too caught up waiting for the next fall, danger, injury, or accident.And so could you. I can't always keep the kids out of the pasture with the horses, I can just hope that they are all smart enough not to hurt or be hurt by each other.
I find it imortant to designate care givers because we have so many children. I'm not sure how other moms handle this, but I have this need to designate which kids are which adult's responsibility any time we get out of the car or leave a building. Because parking lots and crowd are dangerous for tiny kids. The problem is when the adults don't pay enough attention.
This first time we had a miscommunication, my son wound up running towards a busy street. He thought he was playing and running around our parallel parked car. Of course he didn't notice the busy road, or the oncoming traffic. We had stopped in between the parked cars, to say goodbye to my mom, her boyfriend, and my sister after having dinner with them. Just as I looked at my husband and said "Where's Liam" we all saw him (then 3) running around the front corner of the car towards the street. Luckily, my moms boyfriend was the farthest from us, and being a quick thinking guy, he ran in the opposite direction around the car, sweeping up my son just before he ran out into the road. Definitely an oh shit moment. This being the first time I'd been exposed to one of my kids almost getting creamed, I didn't even know what to say. I wound up just looking over at him and nodding, inadequately speechless. I vowed then to be better prepared.
The second time left me feeling just as guilty, powerless and angry at myself. My daughter, then about a year old, fell off a step at a friends house. Literally, one step. About nine inches. In full view of three adults. Of course, she fell backwards smacking her head on the tile floor. First she started crying and then she siezed up and stopped breathing. This was a great time to push away that oh shit feeling. My husband had headed upstairs to get her pacifier before he knew she was really hurt. I told our friend to call 911, and laid her on the kitchen cabinet to start CPR. In my head all I could think about was our First Resonder class teacher in college saying "if you have to start CPR, they're already dead." Of course while I was trying to remember the number of compressions for each breath she started breathing again on her own. Fast forward to me bawling over her in the ER while she played happily as if nothing ever happened.
This experience also left me a little empowered. I'm not happy at all that she was hurt, but it is a bit comforting that when she needed help, I could remember what to do.
So today, we went out to feed the horses, and my daughter trailed along. To feed them, we have to roll a 2000lb. round bale of hay about ten feet and then toss a heavy metal ring around it. We had rolled the hay out (our tractor is too small to lift one up) and I was standing by my daughter about eight feet from the bale, while my husband rolled the ring over to drop down around the hay bale. If you cant see this in your mind, google bale ring feeder. Our baby horse was on the far side of the bale so I told my husband not to drop the feeder ring onto her. I wasnt' paying attention to him, because my daughter began picking up handfulls of dirt and yelling "a me!" which means "look at me". When the feeder ring hit the ground, it scared our other three adult horses into running right at us. Lady, our paint mare who is approximately 1200lbs spooked toward us and I could see her whole body jump sideways with all four hooves off the ground. Her right side was toward us and she angled to run away from the bale, right into us. I had a moment to think oh shit, and pivoted to be between the horse and my tiny daughter. She screamed and I closed my eyes and just breathed, waiting for Lady to smack into me. I have no idea how she avoided us. If she hadn't, it would have been BAD. Instead she brushed right by me out into the pasture without a sound.
So I guess the message here is to just breathe but maybe not with my eyes closed this time. I can't wait our entire lives for the next awful thing to happen or not. I'd could get too caught up waiting for the next fall, danger, injury, or accident.And so could you. I can't always keep the kids out of the pasture with the horses, I can just hope that they are all smart enough not to hurt or be hurt by each other.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Go out and be Awesome!
I firmly believe that you have to take children into public so that they know how to act in public. It's not doing them any favors to refuse to take them in the car, or out to eat because they act like ravening zombies. Now I know, maybe better than some, the logistical issues with taking children to the mall or grocery store. It's truly like herding kittens. But I think of the outings as some tactical drill in this war. It's something that has to be done often so that you can get good at it.I have many mom friends who refuse to leave the house either because of their fear of their children's behavior or because they're afraid of how people will react to their children's behavior.
My children have been going into public with me since they were days old, several times a week. I actually feel as if I'm depriving them of an experience if we don't go out and see something each day. It still amazes us how many people compliment my children on how well mannered they are (as if I give them a choice). And I'm constantly amazed how many of my friends are hiding away for fear.
Which is why days like today are so special. Rarely there days where I have absolutely no reason to go into town. Or maybe a have a reason not to drive that far (at 3.57 a gallon!). We live about 15 miles from the nearest grocery store. So any errands that need to be run take careful planning and must be performed after breakfast and before nap time, which is about a two hour window. Now, I've already talked about how I make a list, tear it in half and lower my expectations for the day. So usually I have to go into town several times a week, for play dates, appointments, errands and at least to pickup my oldest son from preK.
Today, we stayed home, caught up on the mammoth pile of laundry that's been growing in the laundry room, snacked on the fruits of the latest grocery run, caught up on the DVR'd season finales, and napped. Well, the kids napped, I mostly got some things "cleaned", did some work around the house (laundry, dusting, vacuuming, made a pork roast for dinner, etc). I think this is also a chance for the kids to catch up on their allotment of my attention that they don't get while I'm driving around in town, their naps which seem to run longer on down days, nutrition because other days it's usually drive through for lunch, and some much needed tickle time. While the older kids are napping, I get to spend some one on one time with the baby so that we can talk and snuggle a bit before he drops off to sleep.
When my husband finally gets home at 5:30, the house is a bit cleaner, smells like cooking meat, the kids are happily watching My Little Ponies, and I feel like my stay-at-home-friends may be onto something.
My children have been going into public with me since they were days old, several times a week. I actually feel as if I'm depriving them of an experience if we don't go out and see something each day. It still amazes us how many people compliment my children on how well mannered they are (as if I give them a choice). And I'm constantly amazed how many of my friends are hiding away for fear.
Which is why days like today are so special. Rarely there days where I have absolutely no reason to go into town. Or maybe a have a reason not to drive that far (at 3.57 a gallon!). We live about 15 miles from the nearest grocery store. So any errands that need to be run take careful planning and must be performed after breakfast and before nap time, which is about a two hour window. Now, I've already talked about how I make a list, tear it in half and lower my expectations for the day. So usually I have to go into town several times a week, for play dates, appointments, errands and at least to pickup my oldest son from preK.
Today, we stayed home, caught up on the mammoth pile of laundry that's been growing in the laundry room, snacked on the fruits of the latest grocery run, caught up on the DVR'd season finales, and napped. Well, the kids napped, I mostly got some things "cleaned", did some work around the house (laundry, dusting, vacuuming, made a pork roast for dinner, etc). I think this is also a chance for the kids to catch up on their allotment of my attention that they don't get while I'm driving around in town, their naps which seem to run longer on down days, nutrition because other days it's usually drive through for lunch, and some much needed tickle time. While the older kids are napping, I get to spend some one on one time with the baby so that we can talk and snuggle a bit before he drops off to sleep.
When my husband finally gets home at 5:30, the house is a bit cleaner, smells like cooking meat, the kids are happily watching My Little Ponies, and I feel like my stay-at-home-friends may be onto something.
The Importance of Being
Tonight was Moms Night Out with the girls. This is one of the most important and sacred mommy rituals. And highlights my topic of thought today, the importance of being. Even though we all have responsibilites, it’s nessecary to shirk them , dress up to remind ourselves that underneath the dirty diaper smell, hairy legs, and hair that hasn’t been brushed in a week because my daughter made off with my hair brush, I’m a pretty hot momma.
It’s always a fun sort of routine for me to actually get ready for a night out. This is one of the parts of dating that I do miss. As a mom, I rarely get fifteen minutes ALONE in the bathroom, much less enough time to take a full and proper shower. Mostly I try to take a shower and jump out at the first scream from the living room only to find that everyone’s fine (Dora just came on elliciting a squeal of glee) and that I haven’t managed to rinse all the body wash off of me. Gone are the days of leisurely shaving legs and underarms, washing my hair twice, and conditioning once or even standing under the spray until the water turns cold, except on MNO days. It’s the one day a month where I have the option of showering, dressing in something that doesn’t have spit up on it, a bra that doesn’t unsnap for easy access, and shoes that cannot be even remotely described as flip flops. Dust off the makeup and perfume, it’s time to head out.
I think I picked a lovely spot at a local Mexican place with margarita happy hour. It was a nice day out so we got to sit on the deck and have a few drinks. I’m always astounded how my friend will talk about anything from their favorite recipes to their best fellatio techniques unless the talk turns to babysitters. A good babysitter’s name is worth it’s weight in gold, and these mommas are as tight lipped as a preist in confessional.
By the end of the night, I’ve had a pitcher of margaritas, some good food and even better conversation. My feet hurt, and my teeth are the only thing fuzzier than my head. But I’m happy to head home to warm babies who have been fed, bathed, and tucked in while I was out reminding myself that I do not cease to exist away from my family. I cant imaging how women who don’t have a support system or the chance for a break from the kiddos do it. For me, it’s easier to see being away from my family, makes being with them the only place I want to be.
It’s always a fun sort of routine for me to actually get ready for a night out. This is one of the parts of dating that I do miss. As a mom, I rarely get fifteen minutes ALONE in the bathroom, much less enough time to take a full and proper shower. Mostly I try to take a shower and jump out at the first scream from the living room only to find that everyone’s fine (Dora just came on elliciting a squeal of glee) and that I haven’t managed to rinse all the body wash off of me. Gone are the days of leisurely shaving legs and underarms, washing my hair twice, and conditioning once or even standing under the spray until the water turns cold, except on MNO days. It’s the one day a month where I have the option of showering, dressing in something that doesn’t have spit up on it, a bra that doesn’t unsnap for easy access, and shoes that cannot be even remotely described as flip flops. Dust off the makeup and perfume, it’s time to head out.
I think I picked a lovely spot at a local Mexican place with margarita happy hour. It was a nice day out so we got to sit on the deck and have a few drinks. I’m always astounded how my friend will talk about anything from their favorite recipes to their best fellatio techniques unless the talk turns to babysitters. A good babysitter’s name is worth it’s weight in gold, and these mommas are as tight lipped as a preist in confessional.
By the end of the night, I’ve had a pitcher of margaritas, some good food and even better conversation. My feet hurt, and my teeth are the only thing fuzzier than my head. But I’m happy to head home to warm babies who have been fed, bathed, and tucked in while I was out reminding myself that I do not cease to exist away from my family. I cant imaging how women who don’t have a support system or the chance for a break from the kiddos do it. For me, it’s easier to see being away from my family, makes being with them the only place I want to be.
Know When to Cut Your Losses
So, this is a running theme in my head. Know when to cut your losses. On an average day, I’ll make a list of things that need to get done. (List? Yes. I’m a Scorpio after all) Dry Cleaners, Grocery store, Shop for new outfit for anniversary, Pick up gift for birthday party, Bottle of wine for Moms Night Out this weekend, you get the picture. I put the errands in order, from absolutely needs to get done to if I have time. Once I have that done, I tear the list in half. Start at the top and head out. I’m going to be too exhausted after the grocery store to care if the dry cleaning gets picked up or not but we all have to eat right?
I truly believe that I did something awful in a previous life in order to be required to go through the Teething stage three times. My daughter, the almost two-year old, is getting her canine teeth. Three of them at once. I think it’s even worse that they have to go through it. Attacks can happen at any time, without warning. She’s whiny, cries all the time, everything requires five times the tantrum than necessary. And she’s clumsier than normal which just amounts to a perfect storm.
Take today for instance, we went to our friend’s sons’ birthday party. A lovely, and completely abnormal 80 degree summer day. It’s wonderful out, a little overcast, saturday and my husband is home to help me take the kids to the party, at a local park. Ten minutes into the party, and she’s become a crying snotball. I’m ready to toss her into the trunk of the car for the afternoon (DONT actually do this!!). My husband is looking at me like my head is about to explode and all the other parents are giving me that sympathizing, kind of annoyed, how’s she going to calm down that rabbid child-look. You know “the look.”
Solution: cut your losses! I left my husband with the two happy boys at the party. Took the baby girl to the nearest drug store for emergency pain relief and a small amount of candy becasuse I’m a sucker. She was totally happy after that, but we missed most of the party.
I truly believe that I did something awful in a previous life in order to be required to go through the Teething stage three times. My daughter, the almost two-year old, is getting her canine teeth. Three of them at once. I think it’s even worse that they have to go through it. Attacks can happen at any time, without warning. She’s whiny, cries all the time, everything requires five times the tantrum than necessary. And she’s clumsier than normal which just amounts to a perfect storm.
Take today for instance, we went to our friend’s sons’ birthday party. A lovely, and completely abnormal 80 degree summer day. It’s wonderful out, a little overcast, saturday and my husband is home to help me take the kids to the party, at a local park. Ten minutes into the party, and she’s become a crying snotball. I’m ready to toss her into the trunk of the car for the afternoon (DONT actually do this!!). My husband is looking at me like my head is about to explode and all the other parents are giving me that sympathizing, kind of annoyed, how’s she going to calm down that rabbid child-look. You know “the look.”
Solution: cut your losses! I left my husband with the two happy boys at the party. Took the baby girl to the nearest drug store for emergency pain relief and a small amount of candy becasuse I’m a sucker. She was totally happy after that, but we missed most of the party.
Hello World
Here’s my new blog. This started out as an idea for a moms book about how to handle issues with having many kids at different ages especially in todays world where moms are everything to everyone all the time. It’s exhausting. The responsibilites, not the kids. So today, after my husband may/or may not have erased the first couple of chapters from the “book”, I’ve decided to start a blog instead in the hopes of getting some of my ideas out there in print, and maybe to make it easier to organize them into words for a later publication.
A little about us-
I’m a work from home mom, similar to a stay at home mom, but I actually have a couple of jobs which bring in a little extra income. I own an online bookstore which is an easy way to pay for my book habit. I’m an INSANE bibliophile, and we will talk at lenght about that later. We (my husband and I) have about 50,000 books here at our house, and hopefully one day they will all be rehomed for someone else to read. I also manage our rental properties in the area, taking care of tenant complaints, and rounding up the rent checks every month.
We live on a horse farm in southern Missouri. Right now we have three adult horses, a baby horse, and a mini pony named Mac (short for macintosh) for the kids. We also have three barn cats, and four outdoor dogs.
I have three kids. They are 4, almost 2, and 5 months. That takes up a lot of time.
I’m also the head for a local moms group. There are about 60 moms and their families in the group and we hang out with each other for fun, and support.
I was an english major at one point, then a business major before settling on Political Science right before I got my degree. I’ve been married 9 years. He’s a great husband, father, and best friend. Most days.
A little about us-
I’m a work from home mom, similar to a stay at home mom, but I actually have a couple of jobs which bring in a little extra income. I own an online bookstore which is an easy way to pay for my book habit. I’m an INSANE bibliophile, and we will talk at lenght about that later. We (my husband and I) have about 50,000 books here at our house, and hopefully one day they will all be rehomed for someone else to read. I also manage our rental properties in the area, taking care of tenant complaints, and rounding up the rent checks every month.
We live on a horse farm in southern Missouri. Right now we have three adult horses, a baby horse, and a mini pony named Mac (short for macintosh) for the kids. We also have three barn cats, and four outdoor dogs.
I have three kids. They are 4, almost 2, and 5 months. That takes up a lot of time.
I’m also the head for a local moms group. There are about 60 moms and their families in the group and we hang out with each other for fun, and support.
I was an english major at one point, then a business major before settling on Political Science right before I got my degree. I’ve been married 9 years. He’s a great husband, father, and best friend. Most days.
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