Tag: raising kids

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A Two and A Three

Time flies is a cliche at her finest. I am no fan of cliches, I think they are overused, lack substance, and well they are easy to use when you have nothing intelligent to say. But in the case of my children, time cannot stand still. Blogging I care not much for these days because let’s face it, spending all my spare time on the computer typing furiously about promoting another product, bashing people because of a lacking self-esteem (ahem), is rather, what would be the word…pathetic, and truly could be worthy of an intervention.

Although I work full-time and my children attend some of the finest educational institutions while I am at said job, my time is well spent with them during the time we are not apart. Soccer games, bike rides, hugs, kisses, coloring, reading, Lego’s and of course the token sibling fights consume the majority of our time. However, I have to stop and take in the sight of my children, survey them as individuals. I then am astonished at how much these beautiful little people have grown, changed, morphed, become more than I could ever dream of for such people that have blessed my life.

In as little as a few weeks the dynamic duo turn three. THREE! I am flabbergasted, astonished really because a time warp has taken place where just yesterday I started my blog while pregnant with the squids. Writing how I was still in denial that I was pregnant with two delicate lives in me, how could this pregnancy happen to me, would I make it, would they be okay.

Today, I write about how I hope they will be okay because may the powers that be protect these two little demons from the mommy wrath since they unloaded all the bath water, cup by cup onto the now flooded bathroom floor. Sigh.

But while I curse them for their behavior and the water and the mess I would never ask anything different. I have not been able to recall my memories of old when life was not consumed by children, their giggles, their screams and whines, and the precious moments of “I love you mom.” Recalling how boring life really was without kids, how I wasted money on frivolous minutiae. As the twin twosome turns three I am pleased to say that at least half of the duo is completely potty trained, ahem Sara….get a move on girly, they can recite their alphabet, count to ten, recall colors randomly, use manner like no one’s business and speak in clear and full sentences.

No let me take that final comment back. The twinsome cannot shut the eff up! I say this with complete love but they are blabber mouths, chatterboxes, motor mouths, these two command your attention when the topic arises. Their memories shadow any elephant, recall is amazing and would defy any statistician. I say this not as their mother, but as someone who is yet again astonished at the beauty and mystique of the growth of young children. How someone so fragile can grow so rapidly to function at a level that sadly most adults cannot operate. But with them turning three we have covered some major milestones that I am so pleased to have experienced in my life and as a parent.

Motherhood does not grant us beauty and serenity in the typical sense, motherhood is also not easy. I found however that anything that is easy in life is not of any value. So while I know these milestones have not been easy, we have experienced some major growing pains together and am thankful for the patience and love of my children as I know as they experience these same milestones with their children in our near future they too will be thankful for the patience and love given to them during those wonderful and thwarting years. I also know I would never ask to change anything about our lives, about my life with them. They are one of my life’s greatest challenges and as those who know me best, know I love a good challenge. With that, I am happy to take on the challenge of some more great years with the troublesome twosome, because I could not imagine life without these beautiful children of mine.

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Healthy Holiday Travel

This week marks the official beginning to traveling the week of Christmas. While most of us have already been traveling for the holidays with
Thanksgiving under our belts, literally and physically, we sometimes are not alone in our jaunts to visit family. Fall and Winter mark when reduced temperature and the gathering of people, and of course the conception of the cold and flu season with all the germs cohabitating such a rich environment. So what can we do to ward off, prevent, or even be proactive in the holiday travel season to reduce the spread of germs that cause the cold and flu?
My helpful hints when traveling in confined spaces for hours at a
time and to help prevent the spread of germs that cause the cold and flu viruses:

  1. Wash, wash, wash. Washing
    your hands is the single most important thing to do no matter what.
    Including after restroom use, after a sneeze, after anyone else
    sneezes or coughs. The saying, cleanliness is next to godliness is
    no joke when warding off or preventing the cold or flu.
  2. Carry tissue. Tissue can catch a sneeze, boogars for the
    kids, and this tool is such a simple item. Not to mention if you
    are stuck on a plane or train for your holiday travels, offer up
    one to your neighbor who might already be fighting a cold, cough,
    or the flu. Carry a box in your car, you never know when the kids
    may need a quick tissue.
  3. Carry disinfecting
    gel. Travel and pocket size are great for purses and on the go for
    busy moms, dads, and anyone else. Especially if you are again in a
    plane, train, or automobile for your holiday travels and are unable
    to get to the nearest restroom to wash your hands. Hand sanitizer
    is a great tool when used properly.
  4. Disinfecting wipes. I love disinfecting wipes. I have
    them strategically placed all over my house and a travel size in my
    purse for those not so clean moments, especially while traveling.
    Who knows when the last time that seat or upright tray was cleaned,
    so why not give it a good wipe down. Clorox
    offers some great products for disinfecting wipes to store around
    the house and even on the go.

Don’t forget that Clorox offers a great hard surface spray as well for cleaning those stingy
items that harbor germs and bacteria long after the holiday cheer. For a full list of helpful household hints to keep your family healthy through the holidays and while traveling this holiday season, visit the Clorox site for more details. Happy Holidays!

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Are you a good mom

Today I was having lunch with my best friend as I do each and almost everyday. She told me that her dad and sister would be coming to lunch and invited me. I was gracious and obliged, how would I pass up meeting her dad that she talked so candidly about. We passed stories along and my friend’s father was telling stories of how he lived abroad, then randomly, as my friend does, blurts out how you would never know I have three kids.

Twins and Mama on BeachMy friend’s dad perked up and was too surprised to hear I have three kids. He then complimented me to the point where my skin matched my red dress when he said I could “be a Bette Middler stand-in” and again I was humbled. My dear cohort continued to add about the twins. I laughed holding my humility and he looked at me very kindly and said, “You are a good mom.” I again, maintaining my air of humbleness thanked him kindly and said “some days.”

Rather I wonder some days if I am a good mom. I know my children are well fed, well loved, have better manners than most adults stating their gratitude and always being thankful for what they have and do not have. They are dressed accordingly and their clothes are in good condition and I do not in any fashion neglect them. I always listen attentively to their needs, their wants, and their antics. But sometimes I let the demons that walk this earth bore into my psyche where I question if I am a good mom. I know better, but my weak moments take over, thinking I could always do more.

However, I realize only then I cannot give my children anymore. The life lessons they learn by working hard for what you want in life, gratitude, humility, respect, and the plain and simple fact nothing is owed to anyone is all I can give them. I cannot give them anymore love than I already have to offer, which I would die for them. No matter what edge of sanity they may drive me over, through, and towards, my unyielding and unbridled love for these people is amazing. The encouragement and reassurance of their intelligence and that they can do anything they put their minds too provides them with the self-esteem and self-assurance they need to conquer any task or lead any board room.

When I was younger, even before I had children, I would judge children and parents based on how the children acted, how the parents acted. Now I pity them, and hope that one day that those children would learn such qualities of humility, respect, self-preservation, perseverance, hold a high level of self esteem. I pity only because I know that those children and parents are only privy to the tools they were provided, and while they are not perfect, nor am I, some individuals do not have access to certain life skills and tools that are much more valuable in life than what the brand on the tag of the clothing states.

Which brings me to the fact that I am far from perfect and I should be able to walk through life and my children’s life knowing that while I am not supermom of the year, I sometimes have trouble getting the stains of a shirt (especially since my Holy Cow went out of business….sigh), I sometimes forget to sign a note right away and it is a day late, or I forget someone’s blanket before leaving for pre-school. But what I never forget is to tell my children endlessly each day how much I love and adore them, how brilliant they are, how talented they are, how they are such great children despite any behavior issues, and I never forget they are mine. No one can tell me how to raise my children, live my life, and I have hope for humanity when a complete stranger can look at me and make the judgment of how I am a good mom.

With that I can sleep well knowing that good people still do exist, who do not judge harshly, ill willfully, and are good at heart. I can take that and pass that onto my children for their karma. Because how one person acts is their karma, how you act is your own.

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GMO HFCS Organic and Bullshit…OH MY!

Proud to say I have detached myself from the mommy blog cancer that explodes rather cyclically with the mud slinging and pettiness. I admit that every now and I again I will hop on Twitter anxious to maintain connections I have made only because I have had the opportunity to interact with some truly amazing women.

But when I log on and see women, acting like little girls, and encompassing their family in their small-minded attacks on trivial life items. The title should tell you what situation I refer. Come on ladies…first it was stay at home versus the working mom…now this?

I suppose a scattered number of posts have gone up on blogs recently regarding HFCS – High Fructose Corn Syrup. Then I saw the attacks go up with women who are stoutly against this food dominating additive.

Then I did some research….and then I had my last laugh.

In particular, I saw a mom try to laden her entire Twitter stream with #organic hash tags and  minutiae and just laughed harder. Why?

Do you see where my bus is rolling? Oh yes, right over the top of the bullshit I caught a whiff of, where a mom and “influencer” made a weak attempt to state that she feeds her family NOTHING but organic. Really?

When did PF Changs and Whip Cream in a can go Big O?

Let’s take a gander at the ingredients of the new PF Chang’s Home Menu haute cuisine that was overlooked in the organic revolution:

Holy heart stopper Batman! Can you read this? If not I can send you some phonics that spells out nothing in this package suggests “organic,” furthermore can you NOT see the sodium levels in just ONE, yes ONE serving of dim sum. Over 65% of your daily allowance in that tasty treat. Excuse me….I must go hurl over the bullshit ingested in that. Oh and the fact that this qualifies under “pre-packaged and boxed meals” only makes me want to shove my wrist in my throat to induce MORE vomiting. Add the ogenated, preservatives, gluten and other miscellaneous non-organic and non-natural items. Hurl-a-licious baby. Makes me want to run out, buy it, eat it, and then lie that I never bought it, ate it, and gained some extra poundage to my weight loss venture. Gag me with a spoon Valley Girl. Seriously that meal could make me bulimic reading the ingredients.

Moving on now to the whip cream in a can. I love this topic, because the same mom boasting #organic like the Dems and their “ObamaCare” had NO IDEA, or maybe she did and she was too much the beguiler. Which yes, I used that word from my mostly online university education you whoreson. Ah, I digress. Task at hand, yes the ingredients of the CANNED whip cream.

So the cream is generally sweetened by…wait for it…wait for it….corn syrup. Please refer back to the first picture so you can see the canned goodness derived from cream and corn syrup.

Proof is in the…err…cream. Copyright of ReddiWhip

There I said it. Now this mother was let me state again, a STOUT Boswell, or better a beguiling backer. She supports without merit. For those still in the 10 year undergraduate program, this is an unsupported citation. Citing information with no merit or with fault. Again, I digress. Regardless, she is pushing the fact that she ONLY,  yes ONLY goes organic. How can you say you ONLY do organic in your home but then post a picture of your shopping cart that supports high fructose corn syrup in your diet? Because you are full of shit, that is why.

So I beg the question? Why the hell if you are such a strong opponent to high fructose corn syrup and GMO (genetically modified) foods are you eating the strongest offenders of shit in your diet?

Oh did I mention the heart stopping sodium which also leads to obesity, heart disease, high blood pressure which also leads to kidney failure among other health issues? Oh and alcohol consumption…did you know there are over 760 calories in one margarita? Drink on ass wipe. It’s not high fructose corn syrup making you fat you fuck, its the margarita and canned whip cream. Why are you going on the offense to attack other mothers who are embracing capitalism at it’s finest by agreeing to sponsored posts on behalf of the Corn Refiners and Mom Central?

Because you think you have a soap box, so let me show you some critically acclaimed information for your soap box next time you get on a rant. Which is clear your Twitter stream of posts about eating junk food, drinking high calorie alcoholic beverages, clear the fact you are a high school drop out, haven’t held a real job in years, and that your real job is as an amateur blogger..yes…I said amateur. Because when you ramble on and contradict yourself, you are a dumb fuck. Period.

If you want to know more about genetically modified foods, organic (which is merely a matter of marketing because at the base of the matter, everything is organic, everything is “organic” matter. In closing, next time you try to step up onto a soap box and preach your higher living be sure to check your soap box is not a steaming pile of bullshit.

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Love Notes and Kellogg’s Rice Krispies Treats

As a child I used to enjoy taking my lunch to school. All the way until about high school my mother would pack my lunch. I know, my mom rocks, or maybe I was just a huge nerd in that I would pack my lunch.

I took my lunch in part that I was not a fan of school lunches and the second part was that special token of love my mom would insert into my packed lunch at least once a week. Anticipating which day I would lay eyes on the written token of love from my mom, with her love note and a special treat in my lunch like Jello or even a candy bar.

Today I can do that same act of love with my son, G. I can pack his lunch and toss in a sweet treat and love note all in one with the Kellogg’s Rice Krispies Treats write on packaging. I can send a message to Grant during the day, if not in his lunch, maybe tossed into his back pack for a snack during the day or on his way home from school.

Kellog’s Rice Krispies Treats are a simple way to say I love you to your child where you know they will read your note just before they devour the sweet treat.

Not only a way to say I love you, but maybe a friendly reminder to your husband if you toss one in his work bag, lunch bag, or briefcase to pick up dog food or milk on the way home. Maybe toss a Kellogg’s Rice Krispies Treats into mom’s purse so she sees how much you love and appreciate her with a quick love note or a simple thank you.

What do you do to make your children’s lunches special? Do you drop love notes into their lunches, back packs, or jackets as a token of love and appreciation to them? Or maybe a friendly reminder to them or your spouse? What would you use the Kellogg’s Rice Krispies Treats write on notes for?

*I was compensated for this post however, the compensation in no way influences my opinion of the product as a clever way of communication on a snack package.
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Back to School with Seventh Generation

Now that the fall school schedule has resumed and our kids are socializing amongst their friends and teachers that they missed over the summer a lurking menace is socializing with our children as well.

GERMS!

Disgusting, sickening germs that our children spread around as they touch things, sneeze, cough, you name it, they touch and spread this menace in the classroom and bring home to the family.

To prevent the spread of germs our teachers request that the students bring in hand sanitizer and disinfecting wipes. But as a parent, I am rather particular about the disinfecting wipes, cleaners, and products my children use at home. Our family is especially conscious about the environment and the harmful chemicals in some disinfecting and cleaning products. Seventh Generation has an amazing line of cleaning, disinfecting, and paper products for your home that are environmentally friendly and the ingredients are botanically based, on chemically.

For back to school My Blog Spark and Seventh Generation is promoting their line of disinfecting cleaner, wipes, and products for a healthier home, classroom, and to help keep our children healthier while promoting a healthier world to live in by reducing our carbon footprint.

You too can enjoy the fruits of a healthier home on lots of levels by entering to win the prize pack offered by My Blog Spark and Seventh Generation! Here is what your goodies will look like:

To be considered for entry tell me what you do to help prevent the spread of germs with your child and would you like to use a product like Seventh Generation that is both healthier for your home and the environment.

(Comments like “pick me” and “enter me” and “I want to win” will disqualify your comment for entry into the giveaway.)

For complete entry options be sure to check out the rules page for details. Be sure when Tweeting you @SeventhGeneration to show your support!

CONTEST ENDS SEPTEMBER 25TH

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All for One and Public Health for All

Over a year has passed now that our family has had a lack in full time health care coverage. No biggie right? For some yes, for us, we are getting by. I am blessed each and every day that my children are happy “little fuckers” as my son would say and that we are not cursed by tragedy. Knocking on wood.

Last year in February was the last time the twins saw a doctor for their well child check ups. They would have seen a doc last summer had I not called the insurance company to find out whether we needed pre-authorization for Chad’s vasectomy only to find that our policy termed (cancelled by his employer) just two weeks prior.

Spank you. Spank you very much.

So I freaked out. Like any undiagnosed OCD control freak would do, I stewed. I Google’d. I stewed some more. Then I went to the Arizona DES site to look to see if by some far and I do mean FAR FUCKING fetched idea that we would qualify for discounted healthcare coverage. Because as you may or may not know we were railroaded right up the arse, with no lube, on a private care option to which they told us “No Spank you” because I have fake tata’s and The Chad had high blood pressure ONE day that he went to the doctor. BUT, that is a whole rant that I have posted about.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, to see if I qualify like all the other free loaders of the nation (right Left Wing whackadoodles!?). Sad, I do not. So what is a family to do with children who need immunizations since we so choose not to have our children infected with nasty illnesses which can cause irreparable damage or death. Stepping down from the box. What are we to do? Other than go a full year with no recent immunizations and all of the sudden remember that in order for the kids to attend preschool, they need UPDATED immunization records.

I conferred with my friend Google again and he sent me to a community site driven for people like me. And people like you. And all people.

I was so happy to see that a day (several actually) existed for a FREE clinic to take my children to so they may receive updated immunizations and vaccinations. WAHOO. Because really I am not going to pay some pompous ass physician who will charge me $80 per child just to walk in the fucking door and then charge me for the vaccinations on top of that which they charge $68 each. GET THE HELL OUT OF TOWN. Free is for me.

So I took my perky blond self and toted the twins to my old stomping ground in Chandler where I drove around my old neighborhood, reminisced, and thought…man…I am so glad we moved out of what is now the ghetto. Anyway, I arrived at the clinic and went in, to what appeared to be a ghost town and was greeted by a lovely woman who was ever so kind. She informed me of the pertinent information and that the vaccinations were available at two that afternoon.

A bit peeved that I drove ALL THE WAY down to the ghetto, but thankful nonetheless for community services. I was then greeted by another woman who then reiterated what the other woman just told me…again…ever so kind.

Until I saw that bitch later that afternoon.

I show up at two that afternoon with two cranky, over shopped, sleep lacking twins into a clinic that was now standing room only. Woman #2 who was kind earlier…now can suck a donkey ear. She looked at me, might as well have been smacking gum in her pie hole as we exchange words:

Her: “Can I help you?” (Tone clearly reeks of what the fuck do you want free loader)

Me: “I was here this morning about the vaccinations?” (are you really THAT busy that you cannot recall me from just FOUR hours ago)

Her: Huff “Fill these out. Bring them to ME. Fill in these bands, put them on the kids, make sure it has their date of birth….have a seat.”

Me: grabs load of papers and looks aimlessly for a pen as I try to recall whether I have stuffed any in my bag. I look over at  a table that has a couple for another health thingy and ask if I can borrow to which I receive this reply.

Her: “HERE….here is a pen.”

Me: “Thank you.”

I survey the what looks to be a small community room that they have converted into a make shift clinic for an ample area to rest my arse and my dynamically grouchy duo. I look around to see only a single chair open and think, um no…cannot corral nor wrangle gnomes with a single chair in the middle of cattle. So I opt for the cozy square on the linoleum floor where I squat Indian style with a gnome on each knee. Then SHE starts in again.

Her: “There is an EMPTY CHAIR up there. You can sit in it.”

Me: looking at her like she is a complete idjut…oh wait…she is…”Apparently the chair is taken and the floor will suffice for now. Thank you.”

Her: “Well…don’t trip anyone or let them trip on you.”

AS FUCKING IF!

Seriously? Okay lady, yes my goal here as the ONLY BLOND in a red shirt in a room full of people will make every effort to trip people as I sit off in a CORNER! The nerve. Really? “don’t trip anyone?” You know me…master tripper. Shit I never tripped on anything but my own feet, let alone trip anyone else. Bitch.

I stew, filling out paperwork, entertaining gnomes and then return the clipboard, paperwork, and pen to HER. She snags the pen as if I were to steal it…which I should have to prove a fucking point, thank her kindly for using it and then she never makes eye contact. Only speaks to me as if I were a third rate human being, to sit and wait until my name is called shortly.

So I sat. FOR. TWO. HOURS.

Until  finally the sharp looking men in casual attire, shorts, t-shirts, and winning smiles called me into the locked room. Sounds frisky right? Nah, just your local firemen doing their community service, serving the public, like me, to insure adequate and up to date vaccinations. I could really get raunchy and say they tag teamed me…but they did in a fashion with needles into my children’s little arms. I even started to cry. I hate seeing them in pain.

But I left thinking I should have captured the moment in the waiting room on my phone. A Hodge-podge of people, some clearly needy, others in my predicament of tight budgets and no health insurance, and others who I wondered what they were doing with their Coach handbags, kids wearing $110 Nike Dunks, texting from the apparently NEWEST of new smart-phones. Granted I could be considered the same…you know with my Goodwill bought cords, a t-shirt that says VIVA Elvis on it that The Chad bought for me while he was in Memphis, my favorite Jambu shoes, and my Palm Pre Plus. All of which cost me $30 plus whatever the feds charge me on this years coming taxes.

But still. I am always curious about people’s stories of life, how we all end up in the same room with the same needs at the same time. Especially since we are all there for our children. Are our paths the same? Was I viewed as a free-loader? What is really sad, is that we look at people who are in rough times and reach out for these services during these rough times because that is what they were created for, and we call them free loaders. Well what the hell else other than the federal deficit do my taxes go for?

I am ever so grateful today for the Chandler CARE Center, the staff (even if they were less than desirable in their customer service skills), the nursing staff from Chandler Regional Hospitals, the firefighters, and the volunteers. Without your dedication, my children would not be vaccinated nor would the eight children before and the many after mine. Thank you.

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My Life is NOT My Blog

Lately I admit I have had no desire to write, blog, share. PERIOD. When the sudden change of life events happened I haven’t even had a chance to digest my options, weigh pros and cons, the event horizon landed and now I am left to deal with my spinning.

I talked with my sister the other day (GASP, I know…we may fight but she’s still my sister) and we both agreed on one thing (GASP…I know, we agreed) which is we could shut our blogs down and say “Who gives a fuck.” Because really that is who I am.  I came to the conclusion that my writing has been driven based on what my audience wants to read, what would be “PG blog material” for PR or whomever. Why do I give a shit about that? I DON’T!

My life is NOT DEFINED by my blog, my blog defines my life.

My writings talk about my feelings, my life, how my life is like everyone else. Struggling to sometimes get through the day feeling unappreciated, alone, at times feeling unloved with the effort and hard work we put into our homes, working an ever thankless job that is glorified to be some great fucking experience. Not everyday is a picnic.

Granted, motherhood has MOMENTS that are to be cherished. When Grant told me when I was 6 months pregnant with the twins and as huge as a house and we went to a wedding, he told me how I looked like a princess. I melted. When the twins told me for the first time “Lub yoo,” I got teary eyed. But other moments and days are robotic, insane, going through the motions of day-to-day. Seriously, we can take a licking and keep on ticking.

I also began to ponder how asinine the parent-child relationship is defined. I mean, our children can hit us with no repercussion but if we spank them, child services is banging on our door calling us “abusers.” Do you see the insanity? I am not suggesting we go wail on our children, but come on, the suggestion just screams what the shit.  I digress. Back to my rant.

Someday’s I find I would rather not blog. Being a mother of twins is challenging. To say the least. Sharing how dealing with two toddlers wears away at every inch of you brings on nay-sayers about “Well I have two toddlers…and they aren’t twins….I can do it.” Good for fucking you. When you deliver two at the same time either through your vagina or an intricately cut incision into your perfectly uncut skin, then let’s talk. It’s not a damn competition…

And that’s where I find myself lacking motivation. The constant judgment of you are only as good a mother as you share on your blog. You are only as good as your blog. I can’t access your blog, blah blah fuckity blah. Let me say this again:

MY. LIFE. IS. NOT. DEFINED. BY. MY. BLOG. MY. LIFE. IS. DEFINED. ON. MY. BLOG.

Which leads me to the fact that if you don’t like that I drop the “f” bomb, don’t read it. I try to limit my use, but why? It’s my blog, these are the feelings and thoughts in my head and really, I use the work fuck as a proposition, noun, verb, adjective, hell, even as a conjunction in my sentences when I talk at home. *GASP and yes….in front of my children. I would rather they hear the word from me than from Billy down the street, then I only have myself to blame for my child telling sixth graders they are “fuckers” and throwing rocks at them in a taunting fashion.

So I beg the question, why worry so much about what other people think? About the language used? Because Barbara Bible-thumping Bozo doesn’t like it? Well go pray for me Barbara. Because some Linda says I won’t get opportunity. Cry me a FUCKING river Linda and write some letter in your basement, since opportunity does not motivate me to write. Or my audience does not appreciate what I am writing about….the fact that my kids do not shit rainbows and sunshine, singing like harmonic angels, and I with my perfect hair…I am just missing some pearls to top off the air of perfection right?

Get the hell outta here. I find that my audience is not who they used to be anymore if in fact my audience even exists. Well, Ellen I know you are reading this, so big hugs to you woman. I am finding I am sick of being like everyone else and their damned canned sunshine, or no, sorry, bottle of sunshine with Xanax or whatever fucking concoction your doctor prescribed with this medicated mommies bullshit. Really? You are proud to be hyped up as a way to deal? Shit…then by all means blog. I have no bottle of hype, I have no medication. However, I have great stories, I have great experiences, I have lots to share that have not been touched on because God, Allah, Buddha, Higher Power, forbid I offend, scare, or not play by the rules. Heaven forbid I admit that some days my life feels like a pile of shit and the people who are my friends abuse my kindness. That some days I want to blog about how my husband could do me the fucking favor of putting the butter knife used to make his sandwich in the dishwasher that is three feet away, rather than leaving it on the counter for HOURS. Other days I want to scream about how my twins are Tasmanian devils when they float from room to room making messes and I wish they would just sit and play with me because I won’t be able to do that later in life with them. Why I do care about these blogging rules and playing by them. I never played by them in real life. So why should I play by the rules now?

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Goodbye Stay At Home Mom

For the last four years to be exact I have been blessed with the opportunity to be with my child and then with my children at home. Watching them grow, watching my belly grow, and then watching as I delivered two more people into our home who have brought that much more joy.

I watched as Grant was transformed from a troublesome, often busy, and quite the handful toddler into a mellow, funny, loving, infectious to be around little boy. At first I dreaded the thought of staying home with him. I would be the entertainment, the playmate, the food handler, everything I had PAID someone else to do for me while I worked. While I enjoyed my time as a singular individual working in a professional office with professional attire, having professional conversations.

Dear God, I would now be the (dun dun dun) “stay at home mom.”

*Gasp! I cannot do this, I would not do this. Granted, sleeping in would be freaking fabulous. But what do I know about potty training my oldest and only child at the time, keeping him on a schedule, snacks, ABC’s, 123’s, what the shit was I thinking when I said, “Oh sure I can stay at home and work at home at my leisure.” I must have been on crack.

But I managed. I kicked the ass of my prima donna self, learned that wearing jeans everyday and a t-shirt (well, a hot fitted, not your average stay at home mom t-shirt) would be fine. I also managed to teach my boy Spanish along with his colors, alphabet, numbers and the “F” bomb that he would drop once while taunting some sixth graders. Yeah, that in and of itself is a blog post. However, I managed to be a stay at home mom juggling my son and maintaining a near perfect home.

Until we agreed to have another child.

What the hell am I thinking with these grandioso ideas? Oh right, we planned on trying to conceive ONE child, not a TWO in ONE deal. Silly Karie, twins are for…other parents. Again I was blessed. I continued to nurture and grow my bond with Grant and I nurtured and grew my surprise of a pregnancy. The dynamic in my home was changing again and now with The Chad working out of the house EVERYTHING was really changing.

The birth of the twins brought new challenges, drawbacks, pitfalls, enjoyment, and moments of hiding in the closet to cry. I never wished for anything in my life to be different. Knowing I was the only one in my family with the courage, sanity, and strength to tackle motherhood in such a unique fashion. I fully embraced the embodiment of what motherhood is as a job, as a joy, as a frustration.

Especially now as I am standing on the edge of a dawn of a new chapter in life. So much has happened in such a short time with bidding a sorrowful goodbye to child rearing today The Chad goes in for his vasectomy. A bittersweet moment brushed over me as I knew I would never smell a new baby born from my womb. My moments of motherhood frozen in time with photos and my impeccably solid memory (like an elephant really) will forever cherish those once in a lifetime moments.

Legoland

Yesterday I received a call that changed everything. While I had not been looking for a job, since I have the unique opportunity of working from home, as I wish, generating income whenever I want, I had submitted by resume for shits and grins. Not hearing anything for months except for the typical “Come sell insurance” scams, I all but abandoned any idea of working out of the house and was pleased with feeling rejected. For once in my life!

Until I received the call offering me an unbelievable position with an even more unbelievable company that offers health insurance for our family that currently LACKS healthcare coverage. I would have a 401k again, lunches undisturbed, adult conversation, professional conversation, time out of the house and moreso than just a trip to Whole Foods and Costco.

But then I sobbed. I sobbed alone in my kitchen, in my bathroom, on my couch. I am still sobbing. Bawling like a baby, weeping the death of a life I felt so tragic to live. Who the hell wants to be a stay at home mom anyway. I did, I do. I held my composure long enough yesterday to visit a pre-school and childcare center the twins will attend and Grant will attend in the summer for summer camp. The twins were glass eyed and eager to see other gnomes, playmates, a new environment for their budding social personalities. I saw a germ infested, non-organic, styro-foam cup using facility that made my OCD cringe.

However, I know, and knew, in my heart that the twins will be fine. The facility is less than two blocks from our home, the staff is kind and loving, and the job I am offered and have agreed to take will yield money for our family that we need to provide the best for our kids. Even if only for a few years, which by that time the twins will be school age and yet another milestone in their life.

So with a heavy heart I take my fabulous new opportunity and bid farewell to the opportunity I so dreaded just four short years ago. I know this is best for my family, for our finances, and for my sanity, but ever so heavy on my heart. Goodbye to being a stay at home mom.

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Mini MacGyver

broccoli, twins, boy, thefivefish.com

Humans are ever resourceful. Truly children though are BY FAR the most resourceful, creative, creatures with endless ingenuity. I knew when Grant was born that he would capable of great feats of genius. So much so that at the ripe age of two he maneuvered his way out of the house. Many times. Now I do not mean unlocking the deadbolt and walking outside, clearly he mastered this by the time he was walking.

No I mean The Chad and I installed a fail safe, no way in hell you can get out the front door, to stroll the neighborhood with the two dogs, operation. We installed slide bolts at the six foot level. We installed door chains (like the ones you see in older hotels). We so much as even installed deadbolts that you need the key. And. The. Key. Is. Hidden.

Alas, our attempts to keep said boy in the house failed.

Let me remind you, he was TWO when he picked up the broom out of the laundry room and lifted it into the air to slide it between the door chain and the door. He slide the chain to the keyhole opening to pop it out of position thus unlocking the door chain. Grant then placed the broom back onto the hanger from where it was resting, opened the door into the garage, snatched another broom to push the garage door button, and was well on his way.

Crafty little devil.

Redbull, kids, thefivefish.com, Karie Herring

When Thing 1 and Thing 2 came along I thought, “HA! Best of luck midgets, Grant got me good…no way you two will out do the boy!”

Then I ate my words.

  • Broccoli – Used as a weapon of ass mass destructionbroccoli, twins, boy, thefivefish.com
  • A colander….is now a step stool.
  • A toothpick….can unlock any bedroom door allowing for a carnival to take place in my bathroom where at least a half dozen rolls of toilet paper are used for dunking….in said toilet.
  • Toothpaste….the newest carpet cleaner.
  • Batteries….the 9V are used for fun. Place on tongue. Ensue giggling.
  • The recycling bin…a great place to recharge off just a few drops of the left over smidges of Pepsi Max in a crushed can.
  • The laptop? Used for a memory game. Mom….can you remember where all the letters go on your keyboard. (I kid you not!)
  • Vacuum attachments are used to knock things off counters, sweep counters for wanton items, oh and they make great swords.

Have fun Storming the Castle!