Tag: parenting

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When a parent leaves

My dear bloggy friend Melissa has this awesome little blog which landed her on a little show called Dr. Phil (well not EXACTLY like that, but thats not the point). She was called to be a part of the show because of her very STOUT opinion about motherhood and parenting. Her post and her position on the show resonated with me as a mother and with my inner child.

I am an abandoned child. No, my parents did not necessarily leave me at the firehouse to become a ward of the state. I was raised by both my parents until their divorce. My father moved out and then checked out, emotionally, physically, and mentally. His ties to his children were non-existent, if ever ties were present, hard to tell based on his actions. My mother, her sole focus was to be sure we were taken care of physically and basically. Food on the table, clothes on our back, roof over our heads. I do not blame my mother at all, she did what she had to do as a responsible parent and she went into survival mode. Nurture was not a priority when coming straight out of a nasty and bitter divorce. My mother did right with myself and my siblings, I commend her for all that she endured with raising three kids alone and the trying years we gave her. She could have made the choice to leave. To leave her three children in the care of a man who was not even half able to care for himself, who had (and still has) addiction issues, denial, emotional detachment, strong sense of egoism. While my father was not the fittest parent to care for children he mentally, physically, and emotionally made the decision to leave. Which in my opinion is more damaging than a parent leaving based on a divorce.

While watching the bits of the show I was angry that mothers, MOTHERS, do this to their own children. They make the decision to leave, possibly out of the whole feministic movement, who knows. What I do know is that everytime I leave my house without my children my uterus turns in knots. I know when my oldest does something he should not have before my husband even calls, I can tell when my twins have gotten hurt before I get a call, before I run to their aid I know exactly what is wrong. I feel like something is missing when they are not there. While I enjoy my personal time, I feel my sense of responsibility to them, ALL THE TIME.

I am not saying I am a perfect mother or a mother that has some tremendous bond. As a parent myself I have days, moments, hours where I want to escape. Escape the pressures of being a parent. But only for a moment, until I am brought to center. Where I have my three feet of personal space, to take some deep breaths, to have a moment of Zen. Then I can tackle yet again, this job, duty, the love of being a mother.

I watched as these mothers left. They felt no attachment. None. None to care for their children. To provide. To nurture. To build a protection and level of security that all children need no matter what their age. While my mother provided basics during and after the divorce was finalized she began to nurture again and still does. My mother is the sweetest most hearty woman I know. Her goodness is what makes me what I am today with the balance of my father and his not so stellar qualities. Which segues me back to my father and his detachment. When parents divorce and leave they make the physical decision to leave the shared home, stated fact. Okay, these two people clearly cannot be under the same roof. However, the decision to leave should not include the decision to check out emotionally.

I am tainted goods. I have an inner child with deep rooted damage of a father who left. A parent who abandoned not just because of the divorce, but because he chose NOT to care for his children. Father’s to some degree I can see how this is easy, to disconnect from children, they do not have the internal bonding that a mother shares with her child in utero. At times when I think of my pregnancies I can pin point each rib that each child dug a heel or elbow into. I still get a wince of pain. So I can see how fathers may checkout. But I cannot understand for the life of me why a mother would leave. HOW? How can she live with herself? Is she so delusional to think that she has no responsibility to that child? I commend Melissa for what she does.

She is a step-mother to her step-children that live with her and her husband (children’s father) FULL-TIME. You can read all about her story here. I connected with Melissa because when my father divorced my mother he was immediately “dating” his previous ex-wife. Yeah, my mom was #2. My father makes the wise decision then not even a year after they are separated to “date” and three months after the divorce is finalized in January of 1988, April 1988 my new half-brother is born. O.K.A.Y. But at least my less than acceptable father marries and impregnated (twice) a good woman. Yes in 1989 a half sister arrived. Nonetheless though, my step-mother was my surrogate mother every other weekend that we were in the drunken custody of my father. If not for this woman life would be unbearable, scary, and downright suicidal if not a complete free-for-all. My step-mother took myself and my two siblings in as her own. She loved us, fed us, clothed us even. She would take us on hikes, plan day trips, dance with us, color with us, teach us to cook. Sounds like any normal mom right? Except she did not bear us from her womb, she merely married my sperm donor, who divorced MY mother.

I truly understand and feel the pain of the loss of a parent. The disconnect. The abandonment. But I have to say I would be devastated, I would not be who I am today if I did not have my mother nor my step-mother. I have been blessed to have had TWO extremely beautiful, strong, loving women in my life who taught me love, respect, and beauty. They taught me that even when the going gets tough, you dig in, bear down, and fight. My mother fought for us in the divorce, she fought to not let my father make any attempts to rip us from her. So for those of you who have lost your mothers I am so sorry. I know your feelings, but cannot begin to feel your pain. Your pain is like no other than can be healed. The loss of a parent to death can be grieved through the stages of grief, but a parent and or mother especially lost out of her own self-decision is devastating. Mothers are the world. They don’t call everything her mother Earth for no reason, because a mother is our entire worlds.

For those mothers and fathers who have left I wish I could wrap my head around your reasoning, your disconnect, your emotional detachment, your failure to adhere to the unwritten laws of parenting. I do not judge, I just wish some of us could understand. Are your motives selfish? Are they the inability to cope? How can you abandon your child? YOUR CHILD?

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Heathens on the Playground

Lately an alarming incident has been taking place at Big G’s school. Not your typical playground Mom and Dad gossip of “Did you know that Jenny is sleeping with Dan while Mary is gone on business?” alarming business but that with our children.

Big G attends a very affluent school. The school is 20 years young in a largely middle to upper-middle class neighborhood. We had him transfered in and a boundary exception because the teachers are of a caliber I have not seen. The students are your typical suburbanites with their Hurley attire and boutique fashion, with the exception of some children who exhibit behavior unlike their outwardly appearances.

I am hoping you know of the children I am speaking. The ones who are the bully, the pusher, the one that makes you scratch your head wondering where the parent’s influence may be in the child. Well these children have been terrorizing my son as well as countless other children of KINDERGARTEN.

bulliesImage Courtesy of SafeNetwork

Yes folks, these children start early. Probably much earlier than kindergarten, however, since this is the first time they are released from the captivity of their own homes the behavior is probably assumed to be normal depending on the home life.

The children start small with pushing, maybe pulling on a backpack, scaling chain link fences as if in some training session, and then the behavior begins to escalate into full body pushing resulting in a child scrambling to catch their footing as the ground quickly approaches their backside. And then….the worst of all fears is when the full assault begins. I also do mean assault. I understand children will play and play fight, but when a child, A CHILD, comes at another child that resembles the actions of a full aggressive punch or attack more than just concern is raised about the children who are the victims and the children who are the attackers. This is what a scene looked like the other day when DH took Big G to school:

right hook, boxing

Now this would make me wonder how the HELL a five, maybe six, year old child knows how to throw a PERFECT right hook into another child’s face! The victim grabbed his nose and face as anyone would who was truly in pain. Tears and then crying. While the attacker stood there….watching as if he were an artist in awe of his work. Truly disgusting! DH ran in between the scuffle to break things up. Waited for the teachers to assemble and grab their students to hurry off to class. DH came home shortly after to explain to me the happenings and how this is the same child that was bullying our son. We talked and agreed that he should talk to the principal. Especially because this behavior should NOT be condoned nor ignored as “child’s play.” I also urged him to use our clout with the school, which was noted by the principal and makes for stronger ground when you as a parent are more than active in your child’s education and school functions.

The situation was addressed, our fears and concerns put to some ease. Until yesterday.

Yesterday when DH took Big G to school again the heathens were at it again. Only this time, LUDE! Not just mean, offensive, assaulting, the typical M.O. for these creatures, no, now as KINDERGARTENERS they have upgraded to lude behavior. These heathens happen to be siblings, twins to be exact, and one twin happened to decide to grab a classmate and HUMP….yes folks….HUMP her with growlings sounds. Need I say more. I heard this and as a MOTHER and a mother to a daughter I was BOILING! If my boys did such an act I would have them by their balls crying for mercy, begging and pleading like choir boys on Sunday for the all merciful to save them from the hell I would put them through.

So as a mother to a daughter I was even more irate. Who let’s their children act like this? Where did these children learn this behavior?  Then the next question was….when will it stop? Will these actions only escalate until these boys are a menace to society? Leeches of our justice system? How the hell can these children go on like this and NO ONE other than the parents do anything to stop them?

Luckily other parents saw this behavior, saw the actions, saw the fighting.
Luckily they had the cajones to say something as well. To take the appropriate actions for these children to be wrangled, parented, taught the fine art of civility.

Now I ask you, how many of you have seen bullies? How many of you take action against bullies? Do you tell your children to ignore them? Walk away? Tell the teacher? How many of you have taken action against your children for being the bully? I truly want to know.

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How You Do It

Something a mom of multiples hears all the time is :
“How do you do it?”

Granted, we really are no different than any other mom. We all birthed a child, we care and love for our child or children, we worry, we do the best we can, we struggle, we cry, we scream, we want to pull our hair out, we are just like any other mom.

 

With one exception.
Multiple and twin moms gave birth to MORE THAN ONE child at ONE TIME.
So when you dress your children the same that may be a year or two apart in age, this is not the same as twins or more. Because you had two in diapers at the same time. Say a newborn and a 14 month old or so….this is not the same as twins or more. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not bagging on these women. But really….you open a whole new can of something when you say:

“Well, it’s like having twins”


Right! Like a colonoscopy is the same as having a vaginal exam right? They are down in that nether region…rooting around…its like the same.

I laugh. I cannot help but laugh. Or smirk like I want to tell some twit that her comment about “Well it’s like having twins” or “Well they are like twins” IS. NOT. TWINS.

Again, not bagging or berating. I am clearly stating the obvious. Which back to the obvious question of “How do we do it?”

I tell you what. I really do not have a clue how we do it. Something went off in my brain that told me I had no choice. In reality, I did have a choice.
A). care for my children or B). leave them to fend for themselves and dub myself a terrible mother. My decision was pretty crystal, A!

From the moment they were born I knew I had to run the show like a perfect machine. Rituals, schedules, timing, noting all of the pertinent details of everything from changing’s and the types of changes. Did we have a #1, a #2, or a combo platter. Feedings. How long, how much, breast or bottle. Which in my case it was breast and for how long. Did I have to pump. The whole thing became a science during the first six months. I called my therapist. A LOT!

I cried. A LOT. My therapist told me to, she said crying was healthy. I had to grieve. I had to feel like I was falling apart. I did and then pulled myself back together and went right back to taking care of my babies. All three.

You really take for granted trying to maneuver 2 infant carriers and a 5 year old. Who do you load first? Who gets unloaded first? You run the chicken and the egg question in your head. You weight lift and learn to man handle them both at the same time. Now I look like a quarter back grappling each one under an arm, but before I would cradle each one in a palm and arm. No choice, no option. Especially when you have a husband who could sleep through the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.


Doors are fun. If they are not automatic or have the handicap button, you really struggle. No one helps you. They stare. They gawk. Then they interrogate you. You are a celebrity and they are the paparazzi. You want to run. You want to ignore them.

Questions. Oh the questions. I have contemplated the idea of toting stickers with me that have the coined phrase “Here’s your sign” because I am appalled at the boldness and daft beauty in the probing. I have a whole post dedicated to questions…one I should update and bring forth as I get new questions everyday. Especially when the one woman who had separate fathers was spotlighted. Oh that day was a joy.

Judgment and ridicule. We get that too. Not sure why. I mean we don’t ask for help. We don’t. Twin and multiple moms go to other twin and multiple moms for help. Watch them. They rarely ask any Joe Blow, “would you mind helping me for a moment.” We are usually the ones who have folks offer themselves upon us as if we are invalids and completely incapacitated to care and watch over our own children. They are the ones that reach in and want to hold your child when you are shopping. Those folks give me the urge to shop with a fly swatter. Seriously, I don’t grab at your children or at your walker saying “Hey let me give you a boost” or “Hey great baby, let me hold him/her for you.” Seriously?! We also get that EVERYONE else knows that we could not have had boy/girl twins or girl/girl or boy/boy twins that are fraternal.

NOPE.

They are all identical. Um…okay. Thanks for playing, you do not get to go to the bonus round. I am not quite sure why people assume that twins mean same sex. But I have had so many say, “so how long were you on drugs before you got pregnant.” Again, seriously?! I want to say not long, hubs got me all liquored up pushed me down on my back and WHAM, did we get lucky!

How do we do it?


One foot in front of the other. Long, heaving breaths with our eyes closed, our minds empty where we return to center and build the gumption to keep moving. We have a sick and twisted sense of humor. We learn to laugh at everything, freak about nothing (unless Earth shaking of course), and share what we go through…with everyone. Because we are truly blessed to have a body that was a holy vessel of sorts for two special people to take residency for nine months. Blessings of kisses and smiles and hugs. I truly believe that if we stopped and thought about all we do as parents of multiples and twins we truly would lose our mind.
However, we do it just like every other mom.
We love, dig in for the long haul, hope for the best, worry, cry, wipe tears, chase off monsters, wipe butts, clean messes, give every ounce of ourselves and our unconditional love and at the end of the day hope we saved a little for ourselves.

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Anatomy 101 for Little Boys

Thursday night was definitely entertaining.
The whole day was entertaining to say the least.

I had lunch, well frozen yogurt, with my dear gal pal who I have not seen in ages. Last time she and I gossiped over food about men, their penis’, and sex she recently had a biopsy done on her breast. Needless to say she is free of her sickness so that made for some happy news. We gabbed about her latest conquests, her financial woes, and then we got to the kids.

Her Spud is all grown up. Sad that I knew when her daughter was a tween and a pain in the ass and now she is a teen and still a pain in the ass but we love her just the same.

So my pal and I are gabbing all sorts. Have to say quite entertaining, made for a great afternoon.

Come home, normal stuff as usual.

My O.G. BFF Brittany, a.k.a my sister, drops in to pick up her spawn and we gab. She is always good for some gossip. She catches me up on all the “behind the scenes” of the blogosphere (*Yawn) and of course some juicy bits about this bar fly who is stalker-esque to an acquaintance of ours….again interesting conversations.

The day and night rolls on. Sister heads home, we have dinner, time for baths. I finally get around to throwing Big G in the shower. He is really good about handling himself in the shower.

He is a boy though so he putzes to no end. I mean I can hear super hero sound effects until he runs out of hot water. So I mosey on in the bathroom and help him wash his hair, I lather up his wash cloth and tell him to get totally clean. If DH and I are not in there….he “says” he got clean. Yeah, which means we made a soapy mess and none touched his body.

I hand him his wash cloth and tell him to wash these parts in this order….leaving his derriere for last. He complies. Fantastic. But then the boy thinks thrusting his hips at me is funny trying to flick soap onto me while I observe outside the shower curtain…….yeah….not so much. I tell him he needs to get washed up. Here is what the boy tells me:

Big G: Momma I really need to get in this junk right? (Pointing and scrubbing his crack and his crotch)
Me: *holding my breath. Try. To. Contain. Uncontrollable. Laughter.
Me: Yup buddy, get clean.
Big G: Yup I gotta really clean all this junk.

Thank you DH for teaching our boy that his penis and rear end is his junk because I found the comment so utterly amusing. But the fun doesn’t stop there!

I help the boy wash all the soap off and help him out of the shower. He is a bit of a spaz. Last time he didn’t have help he has a bruise the size of Delaware on one ass cheek. Yeah, it hurt.

I am drying his hair off and his arms when he stops and this conversation takes place:

Big G: Momma I need to tell you something, stop drying me.
Me: Okay buddy what is it?
Big G: Mom what are these things?
Me: Buddy they are buttons on my shirt. (assuming that is what he is asking since he is staring at the girls)
Big G: No mom, these….what are these? (As he begins to pull down my shirt)
Me: Buddy, what are you doing?
Big G: Mom I am asking you a questions! (very demanding) What are these?
Me: Bud, those are moms boobies….
Big G: No Momma, whats on your boobies?
Me: (assuming he is talking about how my skin was splotchy fron the heat and cold water of the shower) Buddy its just my skin discolored.
Big G: (he’s getting annoyed now, I can tell in his voice) *pulling my shirt a but again NO Mom, what are those, the things ON your boobies. The things that the babies suck on?
Me: (TRY. TO. KEEP. IT. TOGETHER!) Buddy, those are called nipples. You have some too…see? (as I pinch him)
Big G: So Mom, are those like bottles for the babies? They can drink milk from?
Me: (KEEP. IT. TOGETHER. I am flushed at this point) Yes buddy, the babies used to drink milk from them and now they drink from a bottle.

The End.

No more questions, he was totally satisfied once he asked that.
Never a dull moment and we are only one week into the summer…….this is going to be a LOOONNNGGGG summer.

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Truth be told….I’m a Failure

I for one am not a perfect mother, I am 100% WIP (Work In Progress). I have no books to teach me to be a mother, no books to tell me what is what, I just have my simple knowledge to help me decipher my asshole from a hole in the ground. I am humbled by the fact that I love my children whole hearted, that they look to me for everything. They can throw fits for their father and the moment I walk in the room…..all is right with the world again.

I do not have the answers. Any mother who claims to “have the answers”, well sister…..you need to ascend to a higher astral plane because we are clearly, unworthy.

Each child, each mother, each family and situation yields different actions, reactions, and well care handling. I do not expect my sister to raise her kids the way I raise my kids, despite the fact that we were raised in the same home by the same parents. I also for one would never tell my sister “you are doing this wrong” when talking to her about raising kids. I think that NO MOTHER has that right. I for one would not want anyone to tell me that how I am raising my kids is wrong, how I discipline them is wrong, what I feed them is wrong.

I birthed 22 pounds 4 ounces worth of kids. Big G was 8.2, Pickles was 8.2 and Little Bitty was 6 even. I even had two at the same time. But this does not give me any right, the fact I have three or that I birthed two at the same time does not give me any right. But yet I see mothers from my local Costco to the blogosphere who judge women…….ESPECIALLY mothers without mercy and I cannot understand why.

So here are my failures that other mothers call out on:

Truth be told I am a mother who does not spank….while every ounce in my angered body wants to swat my child I do not.
I do not put my child in a timeout in a corner, he is sent to his room….where he has NO toys.
I do not always feed my children organic. (GASP!)
I do not let my kids drink soda, lots of juice, eat certain snacks, so clearly I fail as a mother.
I fail at the fact that when I brought the twins home all Big G wanted to do was play with his siblings instead of hit them be angry and ignore them.
I fail at the fact my five, soon to be six year old son can count to 200.
I fail that my son can count in Spanish.
I fail that my son has known his alphabet and colors since he was three.
I fail that my son asks to be excused from the dinner table each night.
I fail that the twins can show me with their hands, sign language of sorts, that they are all finished with their meals.
I fail that Big G knows how to load the dishwasher.
I fail that he feeds the family dog.
I fail that my 15 month old daughter Little Bitty knows where the trash is located and properly disposes of trash…..and some miscellaneous items too.
I fail that they kiss and hug, without a cue.
I fail that ALL of my kids are in bed generally NO LATER than 8:30p.m.
I fail that at every meal my kids have at least one food group…..somehow.
I fail as a mother that ALL of my kids are happy.
I fail that all of my kids are healthy, well fed, and well cared for.
I fail that I choose to vaccinate my kids, for everything, yup, even Swine Flu (just kidding).
I fail that I want my kids to go to public and private schools.
I fail that I want more for my kids that what I had.
I fail that I work EVERYDAY on my marriage to my love so my kids have happy, healthy, get over it, parents.
I fail that EVERYDAY I work to be a better mother, mom, wife, individual.
I fail that I make self-centered choices, for myself, my kids, and my family…
I fail that I have LOTS and LOTS of faults….and I admit them, embrace them, and learn from them.
I fail that I have cussed in front of my children.
But most of all……..I fail because they know ME as Mom. I fail that I raise them as a mother, as their mother.

I can keep going. Do any of these fit you? Do you fail at any of the aforementioned the way I have?

Please give me my due process if you are one of those mother’s, because clearly, you need to ascend sister and I for one am unworthy. Because of you our world would be perfect, full of codependents, naysayers, and happy people for judgments to be passed by a mere mortal.
Leave the judging to others of a higher power would you please?! Agree to disagree about how anyone raises their children. No parent, no mother, no one on Earth is perfect. We all do the best we can with the tools we are given…which by the way are from another mother…..usually our own. We live, we learn, we pass on. We try to break cycles, create new ones. We love with no end and beginning, no boundaries and no limitations. So the next time you think about saying how you do not like someone because of the way she raises her kids or the opportunities she has been given or failed to receive, just remember we have ALL been there.
We have all had good times and bad, wealth and poverty, sickness and health, life and death, gratitude and ungratefulness, felicity and sadness, crudeness and civility.

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Why the attack on Kate?

I have seen so many blog posts, tabloid covers, snarks, sneers, tweets, talk shows, premieres, and smears that I have to wonder why everyone feels the need to bag on poor Kate Gosselin.

Did she go shit on your front lawn or something? Did she slap you in public? Maybe she spilled your drink? Cutsy in line? Did she tattle on you?

How petty can women really be. Bad enough we have a mom blog war that now we have these women (probably the same war wagers) judging without mercy about how she (Kate) treats her husband, how she raises her children, how she wears her hair, I mean really……is THAT all you have in life is your boring time to judge someone on a reality show? Do you not have better things to do with your time?

I have to say that I love Kate Gosselin. Really I do. Want to know why? Let me tell you.

For one she is a MoM. Not your typical mom, but a real MoM which means she is a Mother of Multiples. MoM women are a different breed, we run our homes a different way, we look at life a little differently, we know the ear shot comments, we know the sneers, jeers, jests, know-it-alls, and “let me tell you how to be a mom” type comments.

I just don’t understand why so many people dislike her, judge her without mercy, and bag on her like she is the biggest pest on Earth.

I love Kate for her time management with those kids. If you have more than 2 children you understand time management. If you have twins or higher order multiples, you really get what I am saying. I love that Kate has some really well behaved children for how many she has. I can barely get my oldest singleton Big G to ask to be excused every night from the dinner table. Although he does have all of his “please,” Thank you,” “Welcome,” and “excuse me” down pat so at least I know I am doing something right.

Seriously, do people think she is just suppose to let her house and her children go? UH NO! Seriously I only have one set of multiples and every day my house is a disaster, I couldn’t imagine TWO sets of multiples, especially higher order multiples. Eight kids is a LOT to clean up after, so I can see her point of view with being so anal.

The husband thing…..I am so there. I made DH watch the show with me……he just kept turning and looking at me like he was watching my twin on TV. Again, when you have more than one or two children, especially, especially multiples your life is completely different. You manage your children….and sometimes your husband……much differently. Sometimes DH gets thrown into the kid mix, not his fault, but when you are managing a home, everyone is an employee, including DH. Parents have to be a united front and if one parent slacks, then the kids know it and FORGET IT!

I do thoroughly enjoy the singleton parents who have a lot of kids. I understand, I hear you. But just because you have kids “really close in age….like having twins”…..yeah that is not like having twins. Having twins or higher order multiples is like having twins or higher order multiples. You have no idea to have two or more infants needing feedings at the same time, two or more infants crying at the same time and figuring which one you pick up first….and then do you let the other cry because you are trying to console one? Yup this happens when you don’t have help, or you are outnumbered like with Jon and Kate.

So mothers of multiples don’t just have “X” amount of children, nope they have all those kids at the SAME TIME. This is NOT the same as having “oh well my kids are like twins because they are close in age.” WRONG. NOT THE SAME. NOT. EVEN. CLOSE.

So I learned to do everything at the same time. I tandem breastfed my kids until I about lost my sanity which was until they were 10 months old. I would solid feed them at the same time with both hands, baths were at the same time, bed times at the same time, naps at the same time. Why all at the same time? Because this is called time management, if you don’t know time management as a mother of multiples you have time FOR NOTHING!

I would really like to know if there are other MoM’s out there who love to watch Kate Gosselin because she makes life feel normal. That her life is a lot like ours, an organized chaos of trying to raise multiples. I would love to hear from my twin or multiple mamas on the whole Kate thing. Because I feel she gets a bad rap and too many people bag on her……why…..so they can feel better about being a bitch themselves I guess. Who knows. I just don’t see the benefit of bagging on a fellow mom….we do what we can with the tools we are given. We learn to evolve with our tools and we evolve from learning other ways of working with our kids and our husbands. I know I have with the grace of my AWESOME therapist “Pat.”

I have to say next time you see a mom of twins, triplets, or any other higher order of multiples just give them a smile. They don’t need your comments of:

“Man I couldn’t imagine.”
We know, that’s why WE have the multiples and you don’t.
“Better you than me.”
Thanks! We know how weak you are which is why the higher power chose US to handle more than One at a time.
“You sure have your hands full.”
You have NO IDEA and you know what? We love every stinking minute of it with all the hugs and kisses.

Just remember that karma sucks. Every Mom does the best she can, even if she is not raising her kids to YOUR standards. I know I am not perfect, nor is Kate, neither is the mom who is passing judgment on Kate and every other mom trying to do the best she can with what she was given.

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Before and Not Quite After

So I said like a week ago that I would be playing construction and not sure if I could blog……well let me share the fruits of my labor for the last week(s) or so which includes moving 200 sq. ft. of sh-tuff into my garage and other miscellaneous storage areas in my house. My shed is slowly morphing into what we will call the “pool house” if we ever sell our house. (BTW- We do have a pool to the left of the picture of the “pool house”)

Painting is a slow and go….only because I hate to primer ugly colors…..so enjoy my crasptastic primer job that I am still working on. But the pool house will hold our office and a futon for folks to stay with us and the current office will become 200sq. ft. of play area for my munchkins with all their toys and a twin bed for naps and extra bed space. The huge queen seen in the picture will be moved into G’s room so maybe he will quit sleeping in our room. He sneaks into our bed in the middle of the night since we have a super comfy Seely Posturpedic. So he gets the comfy huge queen. Luckiest 5 year old I know!!

Anyway here is what the interior looks like now….equipped with A/C for those bloody hot summers here in Arizona. Now all we have to do is put up the wall coverings and insulate the ceiling (I did a lot of the insulation with DH….and ALL of the painting by myself). But once the walls go up…..VOILA!!!! Office and area away from the kids. I plan to decorate the area and paint with colors that suggest….um…..whats the word….peace, solace, calm.

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The Working Mother

Ah yes the working mom. We know the stereotype as the Mom who works outside of the home. The mom who commutes and holds a “real” job. I can say I have come to resent that whole stereotypical bravado of “the working mom”. I mean really, what am I doing…..sitting on my duff watching soap operas and eating take out?

I used to be the working mom. The stereotype in the expensive suits commuting to the office making me and my bosses lots and lots of money. I would get Starbucks for lunch and have expensive Vodka drinks after work and I would also be the working mom who would pick up her son from daycare. Yup, I was that Mom. I would drive tirelessly home to fix dinner, cawtch up on laundry and miscellaneous house work and get my son and husband to bed and I would finally crash, then I would wake at 5am to do the same thing all over again. Yes, I was the working mom.

But things haven’t changed. Well, my wardrobe has and I added a few kids (by accident, not like I planned for my biology to say “Here, here’s an extra egg smart girl”).
Here is to the true working mom! The undervalued, underappreciated, underpayed, no thanks at all Mom who busts her ass everyday to take care of her children, her home, her husband and show pride in doing so. We are the true working Mom’s.
I used to mock those women who would stay home. Like “What the hell? Yeah, you so do not have it rough lady?” Oh how I ate my words. Yes, one child is such a breeze. Believe me I got so much more accomplished but add a couple more and let me tell you…..well you probably know. The job is hard. Trying to appease three little mob bosses barking at you for more food at the table. Caring for the homeless when those children ask for “money”, “Food” and “a ride somewhere”. Yes, I just referenced children to being like a homeless person. Then add in the mix laundry, housecleaning, running the kids to this function or that, to and from school, yard work, dinner, dishes, then add a couple of screaming kids and you have to stop what you are doing to pay attention to that situation and your whole day can be shot. So the “working Mom”…yeah….that broad has got it easy. I did your job….for many years…..you come do mine and then we’ll compare notes. Until then…..here is to the true working mom and all of our selflessness for caring for the ones we love and showing pride in our home. Way to go Girl!!!
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Project Manager

I think that is my new term I will use for everything since I am not treated like the CEO who runs this operation almost flawlessly everyday. Here is how a typical week of operations look like, including G and the Squids:
Sunday: attempt to finish any school projects, follow around kids cleaning up messes, attempt to blog about said messes, feed dog, water dog, brush pool, sigh at weeds that need pulled, make lunch, breakfast, dinner, play clown to Squids, personal assistant to G and Chad, watch my HBO shows, set up coffee for morning, bed.

Monday: Awake @ 3 by Squid Seth, lost bottle looking to crawl and fails miserably, back to sleep until 5 where I stumble for coffee and attempt to wake up alone and in peace only to have said Squid wake up babbling LOUDLY (dada, yaya, lala….squeals in the dark), in shower by 6 or 6:30 to be dressed and ready before G wakes up at 7 to feed him breakfast that he argues about (every morning), get him ready, Squid Sara is awake, load all three in car, drop off G at school, haul back to the house to put garbage can out by street before I miss pickup. Home to look over school, attempt to do some school work, squids down for a nap, take inventory of all dirty laundry (at least 3 loads), make beds, have Pepsi, back to pick up G at 11. Back home, fix lunch, take inventory of perishable and non-perishable food items including those that add to the side of my rear end (because Costco has the best damn cookies EVER!!!), make Costco run for said needed items. Come home, unload, back to Fry’s to pick up small items not needed in bulk from Costco, back home to unload. Fix dinner, play clown and wait staff to the three small mob bosses barking at me from the counter eating. Clean up dinner, baths all around, then bed for the three little amigos, I then pull in the trash can sitting at the curb all day waiting for someone else other than me to bring in. I get to watch some DVR shows with DH (if he is not occupied by War Crack, I mean War Craft) bed.

Tuesday-Friday: Rinse and repeat. Except on Thursday, put out recycling bins instead of trash bin.

Now in the mix throw in doctors appointments for the Squids which is a circus (oh are they twins, oh, oh….SLAP), PTO committees, school functions like the Halloween parade on Friday, picture retakes, school recycling program. I swear, you think that parents are like the parents on TV and from Desperate Housewives….I mean seriously….who is over scheduled here? The kids or the parents? Sheesh!

Add on top of all of this….I have an electrician doing something outside of my home…that I need to check on right now…he is doing what we asked…though I hear funny noises. I have to pick up G in 20 minutes, write two papers this week (BLAH!), cut the last two pieces of trim for my room that DH said he would do Saturday (is it still Saturday?!!!), nail said pieces of trim in, caulk, touch up paint, move bed back, somewhere in there clean my house and find some peace. So as project manager I will delegate all BS projects to DH as I am tired of getting them all done. Which also include making a trip to an e-cycler (electronics recycler) to do my duty to our environment and get rid of the SHIT computer stuff taking up precious space, trekking through Home Depot with the Squids to pick up building materials, and I don’t even know what else!! So, that is my rant for today. Here is what I have done though so I have proof of my hard work!! Now all of these items have been cleared out so the entire shed is EMPTY!!! Ready for the electrician to run lines and us to close in, etc.
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McCalls Pumpkin Patch

G was in Albuquerque last week as we all know since I had some free time (HA!) last week. During his stint there Grandma ran him around and they did all sorts of fun stuff. One of his memorable activities was visiting the McCalls Pumpkin Patch in Moriarty with his cousin Colin and Colin’s church day school. Here is how their pumpkin patch visit went along with pictures of BIL #1, G-Mommy (Great Grandma), cousin Colin, and pictures of the hayride. G was able to pick out his own pumpkin which is so cute since it is the size of a softball and he brought home baby pumpkins to our baby pumpkins. Such a great brother! Also big thanks and love to Grandma Bev for setting up the field trip for G for the pumpkin patch and all the great pics!