When you are three and a few months…
You can tell a roomful of family at a birthday dinner that you are allowed to touch your penis in your room only. Not at the table. In your mind, they all needed to know this. They will all laugh.
You will ask for apple sauce, have a tantrum about not wanting apple sauce and then eat the apple sauce all while your mother looks at you still trying to decide what to say.
You think that the red car with the smiling teeth grill is a real car from Cars. You will then proceed to tell everyone you see that you saw the real life Lightening McQueen.
You will teach your baby cousin to “say his name” even though you’ve somehow forgotten that Baby G’s real name isn’t Baby G.
You will Tebow everywhere because your daddy taught you how. Everyone will think it’s funny. Even when done at the grocery store and someone nearly runs you over. You get a pass for being three and cute.
When you are seven and a half…
You will read The Tale of Despereaux and then watch the movie and want to discuss the differences at great length. Your mother will find this amazing and tell all of your grandparents.
You will get grouchy at your mother for not managing to stay awake for this boring beyond boring of all movies on any viewing. But hey, she’ll still gladly discuss the slightly less boring book at great length with you.
You will come home each day with stories of who lost teeth today. You will yet again ask if you are the only person in the world who will forever have baby teeth. The answer of course is yes and then you’ll be in the Guinness Book of World Records for only adult with all baby teeth.
You make the Harry Potter Knight Bus out of Legos and then take it apart to do it again, at least twice a week.
You claim that every food in the world is inedible. There is rumor that you live off air and jokes. The only food you want at any given meal is either one we are just now out of or possibly one that doesn’t yet exist.
You tell better original jokes than most high paid comedians.
When you are ten…
You yell at your siblings if they even look at your perfectly built Hogwarts Lego creation. You’d never consider taking it apart. It was a one time deal that you plan on enjoying looking at forever.
You take up texting. Or more technically iMessage. You will text both of your parents non-stop. (Or what feels like non-stop to them.) Even when sitting on the couch next to them. It’s cute. In a, sort of getting old, way.
You figure out how to add a signature to your texts, which neither of your parents know how to do. You change it on a day to day basis, depending on your mood. For example, yesterdays signature was: I’d like a kitten. Texts tend to look like this: Hi! I’d like a kitten. What are you doin? I’d like a kitten. Mommy can you change the chanel? I’d like a kitten. Can I watch Idol? I’d like a kitten.
You decide to learn to bake. Muffins are your current favorite.
You will sob when your favorite skier passes away from a head injury. This was the first time a hero of yours has died and it has made you incredibly sad. It’s a first that I wish I could have protected you from. Thankfully it has not made you fear skiing.
You will one day announce that it’s high time Harrison learns to read. The fact that he just turned three and still screams each time someone makes him blow his nose makes no difference. You are going to be the one to teach him. What follows is a lot of entertaining attempts at getting him to look at the letter and word cards that you have made up. He in turn makes them into weird ramps for his cars. This will be a process.
When you are thirty one…
You will want to hug every single person on the entire Internet for their kind words this past week.
You will laugh hysterically at an ill placed hanging fairy during a procedure.
You will tell the nurse when she asks you to tell her if it’s uncomfortable, how about I tell you if it hurts…because we are way past uncomfortable now. I mean see where you are and the entire army of medical instruments up my…yeah. Stopping now. Uncomfortable. She did laugh though.
You will decide to quit coffee cold turkey. Not because you don’t love coffee, because oh you adore coffee, but because in the moment you know it’s the right thing to do. Even after the headache starts you won’t give in…because some things are more important than a cup of coffee.
You buy Girl Scout cookies from the cute six year old girl at the door on general principal. You don’t even like GS cookies, but a few boxes now reside in your cupboard.
You will finally delete the six posts sitting in draft form. If they weren’t worthy then, they surely aren’t now.
You will thank everyone who still comes and reads here 600 posts later.
7 CommentsPlease note that I stole this idea from Jodifur. Hey, at least I ask before I steal post ideas.
It’s come to my attention that the remainder of this year is going to be COMPLETELY INSANE, so I believe it’s time to post and call an end to my posting for 2011. I promise I’ll be back in January. Hopefully with some changes around here. Anyway, before I show you my favorite posts of this year, I thought I’d wish you all a wonderful holiday. Whether that is Chanukah, Christmas, Winter Solstice, Kwansa or just New Years, I hope you enjoy it. Whatever you celebrate, I wish you health and happiness for the remainder of this year.
In January, I made a goal to remember the good in this year. To count my blessings and try not to be such a pessimist. It’s a goal, I’m happy to say that I’ve managed to accomplish over time.
In February, I found out that I have PCOS. It’s changed my life in many ways and I’ll be honest, it’s not all bad. It’s nice to know that certain medical things in my past had reasons. It’s made me less hard on myself. I also love this post about enjoying the small things in my kids lives. Days go so fast and some days, I do wish for a second Sunday.
While writing this post on my step-mom was hard in March, it also led me back to therapy to deal with a few things that I thought I’d let go of. It’s nice to say now, that I have let go of a few issues. It’s helped make this a better year for me. I’ll never forget things that happened when I was a kid, however I don’t have to let it color my world any longer.
April brought my 500th post, which I chose to write for my best friend Liz. I love her even more now than I did then, so I’m glad I gave her that milestone post. April also came with big decisions about the brother I’ll probably never know. I am confident in my decision. Finally, there was the list I made to insure the kids and I had a great summer. I am thrilled to say, I managed to accomplish my goals.
In May, I head great news about Morgan’s future in fifth grade. I have to say, she’s had a phenomenal school year. Her teacher is amazing. We owe her so much. Luckily, because my kids go to a charter school, Morgan will have her next year as well! I also told you all about my lunch date with my dad.
Parenting isn’t always easy, as I realized yet again in June. Making the hard choices is something I am willing to do though. A part of June, I’d rather forget but never will is when the evil clown ate my blog. I’m still thankful to Jenna for fixing it. Also in a funnier post, I shared some text messages I get. Even now, they crack me up.
In July, I got off my anti-depressants after four years. There have been times when I wondered if I could stay off of them. But we’re halfway through December and I can honestly say, I’m doing great right now. On the 18th, my Bailey turned seven. She is one of my very favorite people in this world.
On a random day in August, I wrote about my step-dad for no real reason. Just because I love him. I also went to BH11 and my BFF trip. It was one of the greatest weeks in my year.
September was a harder month for me. I’d rather not re-visit it, except for this one tiny thing. My baby boy turned three. He’s so very three and I adore him for it. Most of the time.
In October I celebrated making it through the first year of divorce. A strange thing to celebrate, yes maybe. However, in my quest to change how I think, I had to look at the bad, to remember the good.
In November, I did quite a few things that scare me. It was a hard month emotionally, but luckily I came out okay on the other side.
December has been very busy. I’m loving ever second of it. For the first time in a long time, I’m truly happy. My baby girl turned ten and had an amazing party. I’m looking forward to everything that we have planned for the next two weeks.
My wish for all of you is a wonderful next few weeks. I’ll see you in 2012.
Love, Issa
I don’t remember where I saw that line, or if I heard it somewhere. It’s stuck in my mind for months and months. It may have been said to me, it may have been on the side of a bus. I think of it often.
It takes courage to feel.
Truer words have never been spoken. It does take courage. Maybe not the courage one thinks of, because we tend to think of the word in larger ways. People who run into burning buildings to save little old people. Kids fighting cancer. Anyone who stands up to a bully. Courage means all of that and more. That’s the joy of words, they tend to mean many things.
Can I tell you what else feeling your feelings does? It makes you very, very tired. I feel kinda foggy this week, if that makes sense. Which it may not. I’m not depressed. I’ve had no trouble getting up. Darkness at 5pm no longer makes me weepy. This week, so far, has been pretty decent. Yet, I feel like I’m walking around in a fog. Everything takes more energy than I have.
Last week was emotionally exhausting for me. Dealing with things that I tend to ignore, is hard. I don’t like being that person, the person who gets triggered by things in the news. I have to be honest and say, I am that person. Being triggered all week, was tiring. I am proud that I didn’t give into the depression. But it wasn’t easy.
Saying what I said the other day, wasn’t easy. I hate opening that closet and sharing what’s inside. I’d like to close that closet door and throw away the key, but I know that’s not healthy either. Tried that for years. It worked until it didn’t. I can’t do that again.
For now, I’ve re-closed that door. It means I can’t respond to your lovely, kind, supportive emails and comments. I’ve tried. Oh how I’ve tried. Just know, I appreciate every single one of you.
This week, I’m trying to be kind to myself. Last night I opened up the bag that was hiding the chocolates I bought for Christmas. My first Christmas purchase. Whatever. I will buy more. Sometimes you just need some Harry and David Treats. This week, I’ll recover from last week. Hopefully by next week, I’ll feel back to normal.
In other news, I just want to say a HUGE congratulations to my amazing friend Christy on the birth of her new baby boy yesterday.
Last night was the final day of summer. It was also the first day of school for Morgan and Bailey. I am now the mother of fifth and second graders. I’m not sure exactly how that happened, but it did anyway.
Last night was one of those magical evenings. The kind that only seem to happen in the summer. 15 random family members and a few random friends all gathered at a Frozen yogurt place at dusk. Where I’d normally have been getting my kids ready for bed, I was letting them choose their own flavors and add toppings. We all sat outside on the curb and ate frozen yogurt and watched lightening in the distance. For and hour and a half, time stopped. For that hour and a half, it was still summer. Bedtimes didn’t matter, crazy toddlers doing break dancing on concrete didn’t matter. There was no homework to do or baths to take. No one was sad about the two going off to college the following morning. We all got lost in that moment. It was magical.
On the way home, the kids and I tried to list all the great things we did this summer. Movies we saw, trips we took, small fun activities that made it fun. It was a long list. They added things I’d forgotten I’d done. Having it given back to me in list form was neat. It made me realize that my goal of doing this summer right, happened. Even though I had to work all summer and the kids were in daycare/camp all summer, we still had a great summer. I made it happen.
We’ve been to the mountains twice. I painted the inside of my house. The kids have been camping in Wyoming and seen half of Chicago. We’ve bought cupcakes and made cupcakes on many occasions. We’ve been to the park late in the evening and been the only ones playing on swings. We’ve had movie dates and movie parties at the house. We’ve gone to cosmic bowling and black light mini golf. We’ve been to amusement parks and museums. I went to BlogHer and to LA for a BFF trip. I’ve cooked on the grill all summer and my house has been full of summer fruit and ice cream for months. For the first time in years, I hosted the 4th of July. We’ve had ice cream for dinner on more than one occasion and made breakfast for dinner a regular occurrence. We’ve played with glow in the dark sidewalk chalk and I’ve perfected cherry pie. This past weekend, we even went to our first Rockies Game.
This has been a great summer. I’ve had a good time and my kids have had an even better time. This may have been the best summer in years. So Fall? Bring it. We’re ready. Summer is in our bones. We’ve enjoyed every second and we’re ready for whatever’s next.
My home life is small. I lead a small life. Friends are few and far between. I have more acquaintances here than friends. Don’t get me wrong, I do fun things. I shop, I go out to eat, I see movies. My kids and I play mini-golf and we check out parks. We have been to amusement parks and seen numerous movies this summer. A few times a year, we do mini vacations. Yet, more often than not, you’ll find me at home. I don’t mind it. I’m a homebody.
My social life is mostly led online. I work full time and mother full time; I have three children, a house and a dog. This, for me, makes social media the easiest way to connect with people. It’s because of social media that I have any friends at all. I tell you that because it’s true. I’m also lucky enough to tell you that I have tons of amazing friends. Friends I can count on, friends who always support me. I’ve long since stopped caring that most of them live elsewhere.
People ask me all the time if going to BlogHer is worth it and I always tell them HELL YES! You want to know why? Because I got see my friends. For the past three years I’ve gone to BlogHer to be with the people I love and adore. At times I fit more living into those four days than I do in a regular six month time period. I come back horse each year from talking so much. I come home full of love, from all the amazing hugs and conservations. It holds me over until the next time I can go, or the next time I can go see my best friends.
My trip this year was both a BH trip and a BFF trip. Two for the price of one. Heh.
People ask me why they should spend the money and time to go to BlogHer and I can’t always explain it. It’s hard to put it into words. The best I can try and do is tell you some of the highlights of my weekend. Then…well you can decide for yourself.
I do this for dinners spent with nine people. For round tables at seafood places, and long rectangular ones at Mexican places. For tables where everyone talks at once together and others where a small intimate conversation manages to take place in the midst of a crazy loud one.
I do this to make connections. To introduce people I feel like I’ve known forever, to other people who I’ve known for years. To find someone a bed last second and to meet someone new at an airport at 6am on day one.
I do this to laugh at how four people can sit on a couch on their phones and still chat non-stop, without anyone thinking they are being ignored. I do this to be amazed at how a room full of people at a Blogging conference can spend three hours without anyone checking their phone.
I do this to check out a new city. Or at times to get to explore a part of a city that I’d been to before.
I do this for lunches the first day, where you start off with a group of 5 and end up getting a table for 9. For texts from people saying: I AM HERE! Midnight chats in bed. 8am chats in bed. Ha. Breakfasts of bagels and Starbucks for three days in a row.
I do this to finally meet someone at a party the last night and hug them eight times in a row. This amazing person who you’ve been friends with for six years and never managed to meet. Because each time something like this happens, I spend the next day wishing I’d had two more days to spend with this person.
Literally running into someone in the hallway and then spending the next two hours chatting with them and others who turned up.
I do this for: Sparklecorn. Cake balls. Serenity Suite. The Hallmark store that let me send a card to someone. Meeting people in the lobby.
I do this because we sit and chat about the people who are missing. The ones who were going to come and couldn’t last minute. The ones of you who wanted to be there. Even those of you who never want to come. We talk about you too. We share your blogs with each other. We gossip in the good way, the best way. The way that makes it seem like you are all there in a way.
I do this to watch the community keynote each year. To see 12-15 brave people stand up and read their posts. To laugh with them, to cry with them and sometimes laugh until I cry. This year, I had the pleasure of watching a very dear friend of mine read her post. Not the post I’d put in for her to read, but an even better one. It’s powerful and I hope you’ll take a few minutes to listen to it. (Please ignore the poor quality. I took it on my phone. You can hear it perfectly though.)
Each year I go in thinking that maybe next year I’ll pick a smaller conference. I say, this is my last one. By the end, I’m plotting how to get to next years. And this? This is all why.
This is why I do this.
This week, as most of you likely know (because I’m a Twitter complainer), I was hacked. Hacked at the server level by a evil blog eating clown. It destroyed my entire blog and corrupted the server database. This was what I found when alerted that my blog was gone on Tuesday:
I hear there was creepy music as well, but since I keep my computer speakers off, I never heard it. That was what was left in the place of my blog.
Gone. In an instant, three years of my life was gone. Every word. Every photo. Every comment. Luckily, most have now been restored. The rest are gone for good. Photos in any post are forever lost. Some comments as well. There is no way to get them back.
After waiting for three days for my old blog host to cough over my corrupted server, my best friend Jenna has managed to resurrect my blog. She is a hero. My own personal savior. I owe her big time. I offered her my first born, but a bossy nine year old with stinky feet didn’t seem to be something she wanted.
It’s not just my words that I lost this week. It was my heart and soul. I pour both into my posts and they felt stolen. I have felt very violated this week. I still do, even though I now have a place to call my home again. It felt like someone came and hacked off my leg. I needed that leg. I need that leg. This has been emotionally and mentally exhausting.
I readily admit to being dumb. I used the same password for years and years and years. It was the same for my blog, multiple email accounts, Facebook and Twitter. I am not kidding when I say years. I’ve used the same password for six years. Now of course all of them have been changed. I’ll start changing them on the first of every month.
However, I didn’t hack myself. Some evil clown did. Just because he felt bored, most likely. I thought my host would protect me. They didn’t. In fact, they hold themselves 100% not responsible. They blame WP. They blame me. They accept none of the blame. Needless to say, I have now switched hosts.
Friends, I want you to learn from my mistakes. Back up your blog. Send a good back-up to your email once a week and keep it. Don’t trash them like I did. Keep them. If you don’t know how and trust me, I don’t either, then please go see this great post by Schmutzie.
Change your passwords every month. This was possibly my downfall. Use something odd. Don’t use your kids names. I thought I was safe by using my kids real names and not their blog names. Yeah. I wasn’t thinking.
In the end, it’s not possible to not be hacked. They, whoever they may be, are extremely good at this. It’s not personal to them, it’s random. I thought I was safe. I thought I was too small a blogger to ever be noticed, much less hacked. I was wrong. So very wrong.
You never know how important something is to you, until it’s gone. I now know without a doubt how very important this site is to me. I’ve been lost without it the past few days. I am so very thankful to have it back.
Please learn from me friends. Please. Protect yourself. Protect your words. Try and protect your heart from what I’ve been through.
**Thank you, thank you times a zillion to the amazing, talented Jenna.
Today is my lovely friend Jill’s birthday. Jill is that friend. The kind of friend everyone should have. The kind of friend that you don’t actually remember how you met, but you are forever grateful that you did. The kind of friend who makes you laugh your ass off, because she will say absolutely anything. The girl may have a filter, but I’ve yet to find it. I love that about her.
In general, I love everything about her. She’s sweet, caring, funny, sarcastic and downright amazing.
Jill is the type of friend who will take her kids out of school for a day, drive six hours one way, with three kids and a dog…just to be able to see you for a day. You being me. I will always love her for that.
She sends me photos of her dog about to kiss the phone to make me smile. She texts me when I’m sad. She never fails to be there when I need her. She sends me photos of the ocean when I need them and photos of her crying son to make me laugh. When I needed to know what to say in an email the other day, she sent me and exact script. It was perfection.
She is the woman you want on your side, not on the other side. I’ve seen the things she can accomplish when need be. Trust me, you don’t want her as your enemy. If given the power, I’m sure she could run this country. She’s short but scrappy.
Everyone should have a Jill in their life. She makes life so much brighter.
For her, I wish for a painless move to DC. I wish for all of her stuff to be released from purgatory in Germany or wherever it’s being held captive. I wish for a few amazing years in your new home, a home filled with friends and family and no drama. Mostly though, I wish for the time between now and when Matt comes home from Iraq to go fast.
Happy birthday friend. I can’t wait to see you. I mean we’ve only got what, nine weeks to go?
Love you, Issa
Is she always like this? Her words vibrated through my brain for weeks afterwords. It wasn’t the words themselves. It was the meaning behind it. This, being crazy. This, meaning disruptive and impulsive. Being crazy screaming tantrum girl. Truth was, yes. She was always like that. Pretty much the entire year she was two. It could change in a moment. It often did. Her words floated through my head, because they matched some of my own words. I felt like a failure as her mother. I couldn’t stop the behavior anymore than a daycare teacher could.
She’s so needy. There are 15 other kids in this class. I shouldn’t have to spend all my time on your daughter. Maybe she doesn’t belong in daycare. Yes, that’s the answer to all of our problems. She doesn’t belong in school. I wanted to bang my head against a wall. Instead, I changed her to a different school. A better school. Didn’t change the issues. The teacher just happened to be a bit easier to deal with. The idea that a three year old would be better suited to stay home all day would have been funny. Except it wasn’t. Yet…her words stayed with me too. Because I felt the same way a lot of the time. I had this bubbly, happy, mellow six month old, who was getting the shaft in a lot of ways. Because her big sisters HUGE personality always came first.
The impulsiveness is our biggest issue. That and that she constantly gets the entire class going. I understand, I said. I did. She did that at home too. She constantly was at odds with her sister. With me. With her father. Yes, I know the impulsiveness is an issue. I’m doing the best I can. She’s four, I told the teacher. I’m doing everything I can and she’s fighting me on all of it. Because she can and because well…she’s four.
She’s so smart. How do I teach a child this smart? How can I keep her busy, if she already knows it all? What? How can I tell you how to teach? I am not a teacher. I don’t know how to teach small people. I only know how to mother them. I am her mother. You are her teacher. Figure it out. I know she is smart. I know she is ahead of all these kids. Intellectually only though. However? She’s five. She needs to be with these kids. Her emotional stability depends on it. Hell, mine does as well. She was doing so much better by then, yet here was a teacher intimidated because she was ahead. Intimidated by my child. Awesome.
She can’t sit still. She’s constantly making noises. I just can’t handle the constant clicking. Sigh. Here we go again was my thought. It’s a pen. She clicks a pen, right? Yes. I can’t handle it. Okay. I will find something else for her to mess with. You have to understand that she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. I do, I really do. But that clicking makes me crazy. Okay. Yet again, I will find another way for my child to not be herself. To change who she is, to fit the mold. I don’t say that. I just think it. Because you can’t change a child’s second grade teacher, halfway through the year. You just have to find a way for everyone to get along. The answer that time was Adderall. It made a world of difference. In Morgan at least. The teacher never forgave her or me for the pen clicking and other miscellaneous ticks. The ticks Morgan had from trying too hard to sit still. From trying too hard to be like everyone else.
Issa wait. Wait up. I have something to tell you. She ran up to me in the parking lot of the school this morning. I’d just dropped the girls off. Hey S, what’s up? I got her. I am so happy. I got her. She’s mine. What? I’m confused. Morgan. I get to teach her next year. You aren’t supposed to know, but I just had to tell you. I am beyond thrilled. She was my first pick and I got her. I feel the tears but I blink them back. Thank you S. Thank you for telling me. I’m so glad she got you. I wanted her to get you. She hugs me and runs back into the school.
All these years, there have been teacher issues. Even at times this year, despite the teachers understanding and liking her. Because my kid, she’s amazing. She’s sweet, caring, funny and bright. She’s a challenge though, even on her best day. She’s highly intelligent and she gets bored easily. She’s opinionated and articulate and in all honesty, she’s smarter than me. She has ADHD and though she is medicated for it, it causes other issues. All these years and this is the first teacher who fully understands. She is a semi-friend of mine and she adores Morgan. She also understands her, because she is just like her.
Finally. Someone wants my daughter in her class. Finally.
I write these down, because I want to remember. I want to remember a peaceful, easy weekend away with my kids.
*************
Harrison sitting in the backseat of the car on the way into the mountains. He had a half hour, non-stop animated conversion with the Cinnamon Teddy Grahams he was eating. “No eat me. I eat you. You yummy. No pwease, no eat me. Okay you safe. I keep you safe. Hahaha. Now I eat you. No, no, I no bad guy. Yummy ears. Nom nom nom.”
(If he’s a cannibal later, at least I’ll know when it started.)
**************
Bailey: Mommy, you know what my favorite-ist part of this weekend was?
Me: No love, what was it?
Bailey: Getting to eat all the gummies. (I have an I don’t care attitude about candy/snacks on holidays and road trips.)
Me: Out of the whole weekend, out of everything we did, your favorite part was eating gummy candies the whole car ride up there?
Bailey: Yes.
Me: Well good to know. Next time I want to go on vacation, I’ll just buy you some gummies and call it good.
Bailey: Wait no mommy. I have one more favorite.
Me: Okay then, lemme hear it.
Bailey: Renaming stars with you in the hot tub.
Me: Much better babe. Much better.
Bailey: But the gummies tie.
Me: I’m so glad to know I so rank high next to sour gummy worms. It makes my heart feel all special.
Bailey: It should. They are so good mommy. Can I have more?
Me: No.
**************
Morgan: Mom what is this road called?
Me: I don’t know. It’s a number. I’m sure I should know, but I don’t.
Morgan: I am gonna rename this road.
Me: Oh yeah?
Morgan: Yeps. It’s now called mommy almost hit three deers road.
Me: Dude. I almost hit one deer. Not three.
Morgan: Those other two were in the road too.
Me: Like three football fields away. Doesn’t count. They ran off.
Morgan: Mom? I stand by my decision. You almost hit three innocent deer.
Me: They aren’t innocent. Did you see how they almost hit my poor sweet car?
Morgan: Mom, you are so wrong. The deer are the innocent ones. Your car was driving way too fast, like over the speed limit by 8 whole miles and if it hit one, they’d be toast.
Me: Well technically, they’d be more like deer kabobs.
Morgan: MOTHER!
Me: It’s true. They are a menace to society anyway. Freaking partying in the middle of the road deer.
Morgan: *eye roll* Whatever mom. This road has a new improved, very true name.
Me: I’ll be sure to let highway patrol know that.
Morgan: Okay good. It’s settled.
******************
We flew kites. Or well we attempted to fly kites. Ever try kite flying in 30mph winds? Yeah, I’m not sure I recommend it. They look like they are having a seizure up there.
The girls and I sat in a hot tub and renamed stars late on Saturday night. There is nothing better than sitting in a hot tub on a deck at night, in a mountain neighborhood without street lights. You can see everything.
We ate ice cream on a bench in the sunshine. Harrison ate his on a cone for the first time ever.
We sang all the way home in the car.
On Mother’s day, we went out to breakfast. Best breakfast spot in all of Colorado. Too bad it’s four hour drive from my house.
This weekend, the fighting was pretty much non-existent. This weekend, there was next to no whining. This weekend, there was no housework, no dog barking and no errands to run. It was a good weekend. No, it was a great weekend. One I hope to remember.
Mother’s Day…man in some ways it’s such an annoying holiday. Very Hallmark. It makes people feel bad about themselves and their life and I’ve never liked that part of it.
It’s easy for me to say that though, because I have a great relationship with my mother and I have three kids who I absolutely adore. I know this. I understand how lucky I am. I know it’s not easy for a lot of people. I know it, because I have that issue on Father’s Day. However, we’ll get to that next month.
Being a mother is the most important thing to me. Most of the time it’s the only thing I feel even half good at. As a child it was the only thing I really wanted to be. I work harder at it than any other thing in my life. Maybe we all do. Maybe that’s just part of being a parent.
Because I work at home, I don’t have to get dressed in the morning. Yet, for my girls I half do it anyway. Snce I no longer need to walk them in, I make sure my face is clean, my hair is up and my shirt is clean. I do this for them. Because I don’t care, but they do. Because they want me to look semi-presntable. It’s important to them at nine and six years old. So I do it. My son doesn’t care if I walk him into daycare in yoga pants. My sweet boy doesn’t care what he wears much less anyone else. I concede for my girls.
Because that’s what we do.
We make lunches and get snacks when we just want to watch TV. We read more and more books to our kids, even though we likely can’t remember the last book we read to ourselves. We get up early on weekend mornings and feed small people, when we’d rather sleep.
We work the shittier job because it allows us more working time at home, which at times can actually be helpful since kids are freaking petri dishes. We clean up after them. We clean them up when they get sick. We put out own illness aside when they are sick.
We get up and rub backs at 2am when someone has a bad dream. We get more water for tiny kids who we know will then be up to pee an hour later. We go and sit at dance, soccer, swimming and t-ball for hours a week…even though we take none of those things. We buy toys that make noise because it makes them happy. We buy candy that makes them turn into lunatics because we know it passes. We spend our weekends driving kids from one birthday party to another.
We play board games that we despise and play whatever game they’ve made up, even when we know we need to be doing other things. We go to Disney movies and have no clue what else is possible playing in the theater. We watch the same episode of a show or the same movie over and over and over again. We argue with tiny tyrants about which blue cup is acceptable to them. We argue with bigger tyrants about sundresses not being acceptable attire in WINTER BAILEY!
We do it because we have too. We even do it without too much complaining.
Mostly though? We do it because we love them. Because they are our babies and we adore them. Because we know that they deserve all of this and more. So much more. And that my friends? Is what being a mother is really about. It’s not really about the day that happens to be this coming Sunday. It’s about what we do every single day. I am not just a mother on Sunday. I became a mother the first time that stick showed a plus sign, a little over ten years ago. Every day since then, I have been a mother.
This Sunday, I will celebrate my mother. Because she is amazing and deserves it. I will celebrate my kids, because they are amazing and deserve it. I will be happy to just be with them, the three little rugrats who made me a mother.
I hope all of you have a fabulous mother’s day. One filled with breakfast in bed, flowers and cards. One filled with smiling happy kids.
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