Like An Army

To all of you out there who are struggling right now, have struggled in the past, and will struggle in the future to keep the faith that your marriage, friendship, or relationship will work…and to one person especially close to my heart, this is for you.

            There comes a time in many of our marriages or other types of relationships where the faith is hard to hold on to and we question what exactly we got ourselves into. It is often a blind faith with seemingly little reassurance that everything will be alright, and it may be hard to push the negative thoughts away at times. I urge this upon you:

1. Love yourself first. Be strong for yourself, your children, and the others that look up to you. You are beautiful and smart. Please do not lose your confidence.
2. When in the middle of a maddening argument, ask yourself…would we have fought about this while we were dating? Would we have fought about this in our first year of marriage? Would we have fought about this before our children were born? Is it worth the fight?
3. What made me fall in love with this person?

It’s so easy to forget all of these things, and quickly. A very special person in my life gave me the advice to forever stay strong. If you can stay strong for yourself and your children, your children will become just that, strong. And if you can remain strong, you will be able to be happy and satisfied with any decision that you make. Don’t have regrets, it’s okay to take as long as you want to make a decision…big or small, but once you make that decision, don’t regret it. Crying does not make you weak, or feeble minded, and it is okay to be sensitive. It is OKAY to wear your emotions on your sleeve, happy, sad, or mad. If you can do this, it usually means you have the amazing ability to pick up on other people’s emotions, and this is an excellent quality for you as a mother, friend, sister, wife, whatever you identify yourself as. Know that you were put into another person’s life for a reason, or they were put into yours for a reason. Yes, this sounds cliché, but I believe it to be true.

Lastly, allow happiness into all areas of your life. Erase the insignificant drama, the eye rolls, and the gossip. Say hello to a stranger, and smile at them. Without knowing it, you may have made their day great. Call an old college roommate, someone that you think about often but don’t make the time for. Smile at yourself in the mirror before you leave for work, know that you are ready to take on whatever today may bring. And when you arrive home, give your children, husband, or dog a big, long hug…I promise it will make you smile! And most of all, remember…whatever happens, or doesn’t happen in your life…your true friends will always be there for you and stand behind you like an army.

Girls Night Out

The anticipation of Girl’s Night had been tickling my senses for a couple of days, actually for about 4 days. Adam had been away for a couple of days at a fast pitch softball tournament so I had 100% responsibility of the house, kids, dogs, cats, and of course the two family bunnies during that time. I was ready for a night out once he arrived safely home.  Once this was actually on the drawing board, I was ready! When Saturday night rolled around the plan would be as follows:

Pick Tiffany up and head to the theater. Once at the theater, we would meet another friend, sneak our alcohol in by packing it in our over-sized purses, and sit back, relax, and marvel over the abs on Channing Tatum in his latest, Magic Mike. After the movie, we would head to the bar, close it down, and not be able to drive home. We would of course, find a ride and spend the night at the house of whoever lived closest. We would wake up the next morning, have hangovers, and sore feet from all of the dancing. After finding our cars the next morning we would head home, receive hugs from our families, and get to take a 2 hour nap mid afternoon.

ü  Gather girlfriends.

ü  Sweet car (with car seats removed for the night).

ü  Alcohol.

But when Saturday actually did roll around this is what happened:

I picked Tiffany up at 6:30pm. We thought the late show was too late! We headed to the 7:20pm showing of Magic Mike.  I packed the alcohol in my oversized purse, bought my ticket and followed the girls into theater 3. I sat with my purse on my lap, never opened it and did not touch the alcohol. I didn’t want to get caught and escorted out, how embarrassing that would have been!  After daydreaming during the movie that Channing was going to be in our beds that night, we headed to Applebee’s. Yes, APPLEBEE’S. There we ordered a drink, received a pity ID check, and then chatted about our kids until 10:01. Half-off appetizers begin at 10. No sense paying full price, we’ll wait 20 minutes to place our order! Food arrived around 10:20pm, we ordered one more drink, and then….went to a street party that a local bar was hosting. As we stood in line noticing the short skirts, sagging pants, and leopard print tube tops, we felt slightly out of place…and then when the drunk 22 year old behind us put his arm over our shoulders, I felt really out of place. We went in anyway, and when we entered I eyed my friend’s looks of disgust as I knew we were all thinking the same thing….KIDS THESE DAYS!  We tried to dance, and luckily the DJ played a great mix of music from “our generation,” but mostly stood around mocking the 21 year olds with their tiny shorts, tiny purses, and light beers.  Not much later, a fight broke out, the music stopped, and we were out of there in about 4.6 seconds. It’s amazing how fast we were able to navigate through the bulk of people! We didn’t want to be involved. That’s when I knew…we’re old…or “experienced” as I like to call it! Ten years ago, I would have been the girl in high heels and short shorts welcoming a man to put his arm around me, and rushing to watch the fight…not running from it! I would have already had 4 drinks put away and been up on stage dancing.  We headed home after this, we were tired, and disgusted with kids these days! I stopped at McDonalds as my husband had waited up for me and requested 2 McDoubles and a 4 piece nugget. I was home by 1:20ish, went to bed, and was up by 8:30 to make breakfast . I didn’t get a nap in the afternoon, but the laundry had been washed while I was gone, so I was happy.  Girl’s nights have changed in the last few years, I’m over the bars and the dancing, but I’m up for wine night and swapping stories about our husbands and kiddos any night of the week, just as long as I can get to bed by 10!

                                                                                                                                                                  

Modified Yoga

                        My friend and I planned a yoga and wine night the other day. Both of our husbands were out of town at a fast pitch softball tournament so we thought we’d plan ourselves a little night of relaxation. Mind you, we’d been talking and planning this for about a week, and then Friday was here! I was actually really pumped about it, as lame as it may sound, I love nothing more than pretending to be healthy, calm, and cool…so yoga and wine…what’s more healthy, calm, and cool than that? My friend and her son, who is Ben’s age, arrived around 6:45 pm and I had just finished feeding my kids dinner, they actually ate without complaining or crying, drank milk without screaming for juice, and Ben did his part at cleaning up after himself, as much as a 3 year old can clean up, when he was finished.  Ahh, the relaxation has already begun, adult conversation, kids playing in the living room, and Presley would be going to bed shortly! As I continued to make some of my famous homemade salsa, which was going to be our adult dinner, the boys played. We soon started “Toy Story 2” for the boys, I gave Presley a bottle, and by 7:30pm she was in bed! Hallelujah! Our next feat was to sneak down to the basement without the boys noticing so we could pop in our Jillian Michaels Yoga video and have a nice focused 30 minutes of exercise and stretching.

            They noticed. Here comes one, and then the other down the basement stairs. First, they both stood between us and mimicked the exercises that our girl Jillian and we were doing. Very cute, and comical. And then, as we’re in plank position, I felt a 35 pound weight jump onto my back. In the mind of a 3 year old, any time an adult is on the ground with an exposed back it’s obviously time to play “horsey.” The cuteness and humor were fading, and the annoyance was building. I knew it was going to be too good to be true. The more agitated I became, the more Ben and his friend laughed, and the more they laughed…the more envious I grew of Adam sitting at the ball tournament in another state having a 2 day break from parent duties…and horsey duties!  We continued with the video despite our efforts to ward off the little cowboys that would not leave us alone. Rather than stretching, we burned built muscle by keeping our bodies braced for the unexpected impacts of little boys jumping on top of us or trying to wrestle with us! I’d say that’s better than nothing…but I was ready for the next part of the evening. The wine. Once again, I had purchased my favorite...St. Julian’s Concord. Yes, it’s twist off, and yes it’s only $4.99, but it does the trick and tastes exactly like the Welch’s grape juice that we had in our own childhoods. We headed to my new overly sized deck (My husband is so handy!) to sit in the new deck chairs that I had purchased earlier that day. We were again followed by the boys who did a pretty good job of entertaining themselves with a pink rubber ball that they took turns trying to throw on top of the roof and out into the yard. As the adult conversing continued, and it grew darker outside, the mosquitoes arrived, and inside we went. Soon after this, Ben asked to go to bed. My stress was now gone….both of my kiddos were in bed! And oops, the whole bottle wine was gone, that didn’t take long!

            Tiffany and her son decided to spend the night, so of course this means that we could now open up a new special treat that I’ve discovered…Daily’s frozen pouches (alcohol is already inside!) It’s like an alcoholic slushie, it’s certainly something special! My envy of Adam was gone, this was better than dragging the kids and myself to a ball field, spending the nights in unfamiliar hotels, and then having to come home and live out of a suitcase until the next tournament because I am far too busy to unpack…and by busy I mean lazy. I’ll take the  modified yoga any day if I can sit at home in good company, and drink an entire bottle of wine…go ahead Adam…bring on the softball tournaments!

Adam at one of his softball tournaments...I think he'd have a smile on his face if he'd have a glass of wine instead!

Isn't it Obvious?

            I have no recollection of a carseats, fenced in play areas, swimmies, or sunscreen. I specifically remember long road trips with my family and me being cuddled up in my mom’s lap, in the front seat listening to her heartbeat. I grew up on a farm and my only boundary was the road. I learned to swim by my mom’s arm under my belly and lots of practice in our above ground pool, and I remember having sunburns so bad that it was extremely painful to move the next day. I remember being 10 or 12 years old and breaking a horse to ride with little to no adult supervision and of course I’d never even heard of having to wear a helmet to ride a horse.  I remember my friends and I spending hours in our barn building hay forts with the stacks and stacks of square bales that my dad and brothers had baled. I remember riding my bike down the hill of our gravel driveway…and again, who needed helmets? And I have several fond memories of taking long car rides in the bed of a pickup truck.

            Now, the same people that were so lenient and seemingly oblivious to what I was doing 90% of the time have turned into grandparents. My mother, when dog-sitting for us won’t even let my dog off a chain or out of an enclosure for fear that he will run away into the same woods that I spent so many unsupervised hours. My children are made to wear life jackets or arm swimmies when in the pool, and the horse that they are allowed to ride is about….30 inches tall, he’s a mini…but they still have to wear helmets and be led around like a makeshift pony ride. My husband’s father, who is often called on to babysit for us is insanely fearful that Presley and Ben are going to choke on hotdogs or bread or ANYTHING else that is given to them. He stares at them while they eat and encourages them to drink water after every single bite of food, it’s actually pretty ridiculous.

            As I think about the irony of the complete transition that so many of our parents have made, I wonder when exactly it happened. I like to think that in my case, my parents are so thankful that my brothers and I survived our own treacherous childhoods, they can’t imagine subjecting their grandchildren to the “entertainment” that we found for ourselves as kids. On the other hand, I’ve noticed that there is always a tray of brownies for the grandkids, and dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, gogurts, and kid sized sodas in the refrigerator for all of the grandkids. And when my dogs blast through her door with wagging tails, there’s always a biscuit waiting for them, they’re never scolded for being too hyper or jumping. So as the protection and awareness of imminent danger has risen, many of the rules and the strictness have dissipated. I rarely had brownies made for me when I was a youngster, and NEVER did my mother “waste” her money on dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets because “that’s not even real chicken!” Isn't it obvious? They love my kids and dogs more than they loved me!

My mom...cuddling with Mason, our family Puggle.

Wish in One Hand, Shit in the Other

            I had my entire evening planned. Adam had a softball game, which the kids and I were not going to attend, but he had offered to have dinner ready so I didn’t have to cook when I got home from work. PERFECT! I arrived home. Hamburgers had been grilled, side dishes were on the table, and the kids actually ate what was made rather than me having to make a second, or third meal especially for them.  I find that oftentimes, my evenings go smoother when it’s just me with the kids!  After we all finished eating, I left the table and kitchen somewhat of a mess and decided to take the kids on a short stroller ride to the elementary school playground that we live near. By, now I was pretty much feeling like I should be winning an award for Mother of The Year…everything was going according to plan! As we strolled up to the playground, Ben quickly climbed out of his stroller, and as he was doing so the horror hit me…I hadn’t packed diapers, wipes, extra underwear, NOTHING. Quickly reassuring myself that we were only going to be at the playground for a few minutes, I forced my anxiety back down and urged Ben to hurry up and go play! Presley was getting antsy, so I removed her from the stroller and followed Ben. With Ben being only 3 years old, he considers me his best friend and source of entertainment a lot of the time. Of course, he wanted me to join him on the playground equipment, so I did…again…MOTHER OF THE YEAR…HELLO?!?! Carrying Presley in one arm, I climbed inside the equipment, went down the slide, jumped up and repeated! I sat Presley down on the grass for a couple of minutes so I could play on the monkey bars, this was abruptly ended when I looked over to see Presley stuffing woodchips and grass in her ever-hungry mouth. It had been about 15 minutes, and as I was about ready to tell Benji that it was time to go…I heard IT. “Mommy, I gotta go potty,” he quietly said from the top of the colorful jungle gym. Looking around in a panic, I found no restrooms, trashcans, nothing. As I lifted him down off of the play equipment, he said a little embarrassed, “it was an accident.” I reassured him that it was okay, it was just an accident, and asked him if he could hold the rest until we got home. Of course he couldn’t. This…is when I learned exactly what the expression, “You can wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which gets filled first,” meant.  Again, being 3, and still learning to use the potty consistently, I couldn’t tell him to poop in his pants and he refused to squat and poop behind the tree, so….being the resourceful mother of the year that I am, I found a leftover Little Debbie wrapper in the stroller. I lined my hand with the plastic, and told him to poop. AND HE DID…AND IT WAS THE SIZE OF A 7 FT TALL NBA PLAYER’S POOP! All in my hand, and smelly as ever. He grunted and out it came, into my hand…and since there were no trash cans, I had to wrap it in the old plastic and put it in the bottom of the stroller to take home. Yes, I smelled it the entire way, it was gross, and the entire walk home I was WISHING that nobody saw what had just happened.  So as much as I had wished for a bathroom, or just a trash can, or maybe even wipes,  it didn’t happen…my other hand definitely filled up first!   

She's not my Mother

            It was 6:40am last Thursday morning, Ben had been giving me a rough time for the past few mornings, but this one topped the cake. Dragging him out of bed was a challenge, especially since he’s decided that he needs to sleep on the top bunk of his new “bunk house.” After getting him down, he started to kick and scream, refused to eat breakfast, get dressed, or even watch tv for a few minutes. “No” was definitely the word of the day. I wrestled with him to get his pull up off, that was a battle because he screamed and kicked while holding on to his urine soaked pull-up. Yes, he was so adamant about doing the opposite of what I wanted him to do, he was willing to wear a wet pull-up all day rather than a clean pair of underwear. After some more of what seemed to be UFC without the cage occurred, he was finally dressed, and very unhappy about it.  I know you’re thinking that I’m the adult and he’s 3, and I know my description of the problem doesn’t give a great visual, but it was bad, and I was thankful that our neighbor was gone on vacation because if he had been home I’m sure he would have called the police for what sounded like a bloody massacre going on in my house. After carrying Ben under one arm, kicking and screaming the whole way to my car, I strapped him in, which was also a brawl because Ben decided that he did not want to sit in his booster seat or be buckled in. Forcefully I held his surprisingly strong arms down, leaned in to hold his legs in with my body, and buckled him…a third arm would have been really helpful at this moment. The screaming was unrelenting. Everything I did was WRONG. “No, don’t back up.” “No, don’t turn down dat road.” “No, I don’t want to do go.” Absolutely everything was against his wishes. I called Adam at work, which I never do, and as soon as I heard his voice on the phone I lost control of my emotions. I cried, and cried…and continued to cry as I carried Ben into daycare kicking and screaming. There’s not much else in life worse than leaving your children while they’re so upset, it really does weigh heavily on your heart. As mad as I was, and sad, and guilty feeling…I left, and went to work. I called my mom at 7:00am, still crying, but hoping not to wake her. She must have thought I was crazy. Luckily, I hear, “Hello?” She was obviously concerned, I never call that early. All I could mutter was, “I’m going to kill Ben.” Obviously this wasn’t the case, but I wanted some sympathy and some words of wisdom from someone who raised 3 children and faced the same frustrations. She gave me several suggestions, talked me down from the emotional ledge that I was teetering on, and the conversation ended with both of us laughing at how trying children can be at times.

            Still holding a bit of a grudge, but trying to be patient with my ever-stubborn 3 year old space ranger, I decided that I needed to be a little sterner. As we were in the hotel this weekend, Adam was sensing my frustration. I had asked Ben to put his cowboy boots on (his choice of footwear, not mine), but he blatantly ignored me. Adam harshly shouted, “Benjamin, LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER!.” Ben stood up, through his arms down in disgust and yelled, “SHE’S NOT MY MUDDER….she’s my mommy.” And with that single statement, I melted, I couldn’t be mad or frustrated, or anything…just in love with that lil cowboy! He’s right, I’m not his mother, I am and always will be his mommy through and through. I will forever think of this statement long into his crazy teenage years that will arrive before I know it, and when he goes off to college, and forever. Thanks Benji, for helping me to forget the frustrations, grudges, and anxiety that go along with being a mommy…because the hugs, smiles, and happiness are so worth every minute!

On his way to the North Pole

            Below you’ll find the list of items needed to occupy my children for an entire weekend at the ball park for another of Adam’s fast pitch tournaments.

1. Coloring books, colored pencils (crayons would have melted in the 90 degree heat)
2. Ball glove, bat, ball
3.  Giant bag the size of a mini cooper filled with sand toys
4. My Kindle fire…I had downloaded Toy Story 1  
5. Headphones (so I didn’t have to listen to Toy Story)
6. Cooler full of juice boxes, fruit, and applesauce
7. Bag full of crackers/snacks for Presley
8. Bathing suits and swimmies for the hotel pool
9. A small assortment of “guys” that Ben plays with…usually Batman and Superman

This list isn’t including the back pack full of Ben’s clothes, extra underwear, pull-ups, and special blanket along with my suitcase full of Presley’s clothes, diapers, wipes, formula, bottles, sippy cups, and a few of my clothes that filled whatever small space I had left.  Saturday at the ball park was filled mostly with Ben playing on the play equipment that was at the park, Presley riding around in a stroller, and then a couple of short naps for both kids…a break for me! Sunday, consisted of Ben playing with some of the kids who are also involved with the team. I set up my kindle for them to watch so the mothers could have a break, but they argued over who had the better seat, who got to wear the headphones, and anything else that irritated their little tired selves at that moment. Needless to say, the kindle was put away. The bag of sand toys sat untouched for most of the tournament and the bat and ball glove were played with minimally throughout the weekend. You would have thought I would have gone crazy, however they became creative….very creative. For much of the afternoon, the 3 kids that were playing with and entertaining each other ran around with their blankets playing superhero games. Running and jumping off of benches, bleachers, whatever they could find, pretending to fly. The other source of entertainment for the kids was a stick and an empty water bottle. Each child found one of each, and ran around hitting the bottles with sticks, a sort of 3 year old golf game! Nobody fought, nobody argued, they all laughed, the entire time.

            I think it’s important for us to remember that kids are creative by nature and will find ways to entertain themselves, especially at these young ages. They haven’t yet been so tainted with video games, tv, or computer that they have lost their imaginations. They’re able to truly believe that they are super man and they are flying to the North Pole to talk to Santa, and it is a lot of fun to watch! Next time we spend our money buying kids the latest technology; remember that they usually have just as much fun with a stick and an empty water bottle, if not more fun!



Cowboy Superman, age 3.



To Presley

            Although this is long overdue, I feel that it’s still important to acknowledge. My household consists of my husband, my son, my 2 male dogs, my 2 male cats, and what I thought were 2 male rabbits, I realized that wasn’t the case about 5 weeks after placing them in the same cage, but that’s beside the point. For what seemed like forever, I was the only girl in the house. Rather than coming home to my happy dogs who wagged their tails, they would get so excited that they’d wrestle and chew on each other’s faces. Rather than cuddly kitties, they’d much rather wrestle with each other and race through the house sounding like Clydesdales instead of 5 pound cats. And rather than coming home to hugs and kisses, I arrived home to little Ben wanting to tackle me and ride on my back, and another person to pee all over the toilet seat. I realize that other than the toilet seat issue, everything I’ve mentioned is a sign of affection…from a boy.

            And then I was pregnant again, and all signs made me believe that it was going to be another boy. At 20 weeks I excitedly arrived at my doctor’s office, met Adam there, and impatiently awaited the ultrasound tech to call us back. Finally, she does….and IT’S A GIRL! Excitement, nervousness, and undeniable fear raced through me. A girl...someone to hug and snuggle, someone that will have pigtails in a few months, and someone I can take to get her ears pierced at age 6, like I did. A girl…someone to even out the hormone imbalance in my household, someone who can learn to pee inside the toilet rather than on the toilet, and someone to bake cookies with. A girl…someone who will have PMS, fall in and out of love on a weekly basis, skillfully antagonize her brother, and even more skillfully manipulate her father into getting everything she wants…someone just like me. As my excitement dissipated, everyone else’s grew about a new baby girl getting ready to make her way into this world. I couldn’t get over the idea that if this girl is anything like me as a teenager I wouldn’t be able to handle it, to this day, I’m not sure how my mother didn’t have an aneurism during my adolescent years. Overall, I was a good kid, and feel that I’ve actually turned out pretty perfect in my opinion, but as a teenager, I was a bit of a handful to say the least. I couldn’t get over the idea that this little girl who will be born will turn into a young lady that will catch the eyes of many watchful boys who don’t always have the best intentions, and I couldn’t help but think that she’ll most likely have her heart broken someday by at least one of these same boys.

            And then she was born, and she was the most beautiful, peaceful, little girl that had ever been created. I was in complete awe and the only thing I wanted to do was hold on to her for the rest of my life. Obviously this can’t happen, and I will not be able to protect her from the emotional dangers of her adolescence, boys that hurt her feelings, or PMS for that matter. I will though, at least for a few years, be able to give her pigtails, put her in pink dresses, snuggle with her, take her to get her ears pierced if she wishes…oh and pee IN the toilet! Now that Presley is nearing 9 months of age, she is crawling all over the place with the speed of an Olympic sprinter, her smile can light up an entire stadium, and she loves to be hugged and kissed, it makes her laugh. For now, my worries have subsided, and I’m in love…check with me in about 12 years, I may then have another story to tell!  

Presley, about 2 months old when this was taken.

Evolution of the Phone Call

Age 2-3: Learn to talk on the phone. Nod in response to questions rather than answering with a yes or no as if your caller can see you.

Age 3-4: Wanting to call Grandma to tell her you pooped in the potty!

Age 5-7: Call Grandma to see if you can spend the night. Cry if she says no.

Age 7-11: Call friends to come over and play.

Age 12-14: Rushing to the phone when it rings and running to your bedroom because you need to have a private conversation either about the boy that you like or with the boy that you like.

Age 15-18: Calling your friends to talk about relationships, homework, how ridiculous your parents are, your new car, or what you’re wearing to the football game on Friday night.

Age 18-22: Calling your best friends from high school because you miss them, calling your mom if you’ve moved away to college to tell her you miss her or to hear her voice and ask how your dog is doing, leaving your cell phone on under your pillow in case your new friends call for a designated driver.

Age 22-27: Seeing your old friends call that you have somewhat lost touch with to tell you that they’re getting married, having a baby, or wanting some support because their grandmother has just passed away.  

Age 28…back to leaving your phone on under your pillow because you almost anticipate something bad happening to your own grandparents or parents.

I don’t have much experience with phone calls past the age of 28, but it’s interesting to examine the evolution of the phone call.  I watch my little 3 year old cowboy so excited to talk on the phone to daddy, cousins, and grandparents. I’m wholly expecting him to learn to use the phone independently and begin to call some of his favorite people soon, possibly the Lone Ranger...if we can find his phone number! There are stages of our lives that the phone is great, and makes you happy…and other times where whatever ringtone you’ve chosen can be just a little bit nerve-racking, especially those late night or early morning calls as we get older. I can only imagine that the older we get, the scarier the phone calls become.

Raise them poor

            Growing up in a small rural area on a farm was amazing, the best.  I was only within walking or bike riding distance to 1 friend, and as girls do, we often grew sick of each other very quickly so I entertained myself by playing with kittens, or riding horses, or fostering my ever-growing imagination by wandering around in the woods escaping poachers and snipers with my dog Ed or building forts inside the hay stacks in the barn. I was what some may call a bit of a tomboy, but I was blissfully unaware of this, along with many other things. My life as a child was absolutely perfect. I had no idea that my parents lived paycheck to paycheck and struggled to pay the bills, or that we grew a garden because we needed the extra food, or raised cattle to put in our freezer, I actually just thought my parents  were tightwads, but I was happy nonetheless. Always a wonderful home-cooked, never from a box meal that never failed to include meat, vegetables, and rice or potatoes, real potatoes that my mom actually mashed herself…that doesn’t happen very often these days!  It was something special to go to McDonalds, we simply didn’t have extra money for that most of the time. We never had cable or satellite tv, but who needed that when you could play outside until dark?

            Kids today have cell phones at age 10, tvs in their bedrooms, and internet access at their fingertips. They are in afterschool activities daily and have little time to even build 10% of the imagination that I once had. Girls wear makeup and highlight their hair at age 12, and have sex at 13. Boys are no longer shy at the school dances, that now often begin in elementary school, and the days of boys on one wall and girls on another are fading. I almost feel that I was naïve at this age, but thinking back…I was not alone in my innocence. These things were rare. It was exciting to sit next to a boy at lunch, and talked about for weeks if hands were held. This is nothing these days, so many youth laugh at the innocence that they should have and that has been robbed from them. I realize that parents have the money to provide their children with new technology, and it’s hard not to in today’s world, but there are consequences.

            What exactly are we giving our kids with all of this technology, daily activities, and freedom? We’re giving them adulthood. They are little adults with immature minds…and this is scary. I miss my childhood, I miss running around on the farm and inviting my friends over to ride horses through the woods. I want this for my children, but it’s harder now. We’re busier now. We have more money now. My parents always believed that without being handed everything, and teaching kids that the money mom and dad earn is for mom and dad…we would have to work for everything we wanted, we would grow up as self-sufficient adults who understood how to be conservative with our own money.  I’m quite sure that my parents could have been millionaires and I would have never known, I still would have had to feed my horses, cats, goats, and pigs every day to earn my keep! I think my dad has hit the nail on the head with his parenting philosophy…”Raise them poor.”

Cruisin..

I’m 17, I’m carefree, and my boyfriend is about to pick me up to go driving. Just driving, nothing else. Cruising around, burning gas, just relaxing from what we thought was a stressful life. Being away from parents watchful eyes and dreaming about my future with my boyfriend. It’s 85 degrees; I’m wearing my tank top and cut off shorts, and its summer vacation. Windows are down blowing my hair wildly, sunglasses covering my eyes, and rocking out to whatever song seemed fitting for the occasion.

I’ve since forgotten the songs, and even the boyfriend, but the memories of cruising will forever be with me, and they all came rushing back when I was bombarded with a screaming baby, a 3-year-old who continues to repeat, “Why is Presley crying? Mommy, Presley is crying. Mommy…mom…mom…she’s still crying.” Oh, and the howling. I'm not sure why Ben was howling, but he was, I think he was trying to drown out Presley's screaming. After anticipating a peaceful ride with my husband, and assuming the kids would fall asleep, all I could do to ward off the inevitable panic attack was take a few deep breaths and try to remember high school summer break. We were on our way to a family dinner at a restaurant which was about 45 minutes away from home. There were going to be 17 people there, including us, and it wasn’t McDonald’s, before the car ride I had actually been looking forward to the dinner.  Someone else was sure to help with the kids and maybe, just maybe Adam and I could have an uninterrupted dinner that didn’t involve replacing dropped silverware, wiping faces, cutting meat, squeezing ketchup, or pretending that dinner was so exciting just so Ben would remain contently seated while we ate. But, by the time we arrived at our destination, my face was flushed, my hair on the back of my neck was drenched with sweat, and I was wishing that we had pulled through a McDonalds drive-thru and headed back home. It was fun nonetheless, hectic, but fun. Ben was pretty self-sufficient throughout dinner except for, “Mom, I gotta poop, “ and Presley was happy as long as we kept food in front of her, or a spoon to bang on the table. I’m quite sure that the other guests were pleased with this! I felt like a large group of hillbilly goat wranglers with as loud and messy as we were.

 Now that gas is on its way to $5/gallon, and the kids are either screaming or far too inquisitive for me to ignore, we don’t ‘just drive’ anymore, that is unless we have an obligatory destination. I’m not sure if it’s just us, or everybody, but if we are loading 2 kids, juice boxes, goldfish crackers, diapers, wipes, and a stroller in the car…we better have somewhere to be.  

Below is a short clip of my car ride. Keep in mind that this went on for about 27 minutes. I apologize for the jumping around of the clip, it's not my forte

I Appreciate it

        

    Once again, this e-card hit home. After carefully placing things on the top of the trash can like we were playing a game of Jenga for 3 days, I finally gave in…sort of. I pulled the trash out, tied the overflowing bag, and placed it by the door so it could be taken out to the road by the next person that used that door…which obviously wasn’t going to be me! Usually this is not a big deal, and most of the household cleaning responsibilities are lackadaisically completed by me. But I was tired, and rather than just asking Adam to take the trash out, I waited…and stewed inside…and grew more annoyed every time I had to strategically place my piece of trash in an open crevice to avoid a landslide. Okay, I’ve never once claimed to be good at this marriage thing or that I’m mature…so stop judging me! Fine..I’ll pull the trash, but I AM NOT TAKING IT OUTSIDE! That’s where my line was drawn; this line is undetectable to men.

            When I awoke the following morning…my wishes had been fulfilled. The trash had been taken to the road, I’m very appreciative, but apparently I’ve misplaced that little part of me that dishes out praise or bakes cookies to show my appreciation. What I’m wondering is why do men expect a reward for a job well done when it comes to the everyday mundane chores that are just a part of so many women’s lives? Yes, you took out the trash…thank you! In the one hour following my arrival home from work I pick the kids up from daycare, unload them from the car, prepare a quick meal for the family, feed the dogs and cats, and clean the backpacks, clothes, mail off of the table so we have a place to sit…oh, and usually within this hour I’ve put the fire out on some huge tantrum that was thrown because my little cowboy didn’t want to eat what I was making for dinner! But…thank you so much for carrying the trash that I’ve pulled out of the garbage can to the road, I appreciate it! After dinner, the dishes are put into the dishwasher, the kids bath has been started, pajamas laid out, cleaned the floor (this consists of me letting the dogs in to inhale all of the food particles that have fallen or been dropped on the floor during dinner) and played “guys” with Ben (this consists of me talking in some weird man voice while making a Spiderman figurine fly, swim, and have conversations with Ben’s Batman figurine.) But thank you for taking that trash out, it was really helpful!

JUST LEAVE!

     Why is it that we can have a fabulous 2 months with our husbands and then there they go again. . .acting like a butt!  The weekend before 4th of July my husband was going to go ride dirt bikes with his friend.   He was very excited and we'd been doing so good so  I was glad that he was able to see a friend he doesn't normally get to see.  The morning he got up to go ride his bike I got up with him and Kendall.  She was happy, as usual, and I didn't get in the shower or anything because I wanted to be able to 'see him off'.  I did some laundry and watched him hook his trailor up to his van, load his bike to the trailor, throw his gear in the van and then he went into the garage.  5 minutes passed, then 10 minutes, then 20 minutes and I decided I'd jump in the shower.  I figured I'd be out quickly and then I could be ready to start MY day.  I was in the shower when he walked into the bathroom hollaring at me about hurrying up and why was I taking a shower when he needed to take a shower and why wasn't I helping him?!?!  I quickly got out of the shower and said to him, I didn't know you were going to take a shower since you are going to a DIRT track to ride a DIRT bike and get plenty DIRTY. 
HIM: you know, I wish you'd help me get ready to leave when you know I'm in a hurry. 
ME: what can I do for you? 
HIM: you should KNOW. 
Irritated now I SAY: well, I'm sorry I didn't load your bike or hook up the trailor.  I'll pay attention next time you do that so I know what to do. 
HIM:  I didn't mean that.  You should've packed drinks and snacks for me and my friends.

     At this point I just let him go. . .all the while in my head I'm screaming "-pack snacks for you and your friends, what are we 4 again?!?!?!  JUST LEAVE"  And then it's just me and a 3 year old and a 1 year old and I know I'm going to have a good day.

Once every 8 months...

    I was lucky enough to sneak away to have dinner with an old friend tonight as my husband agreed to make dinner, give baths, and put both kiddos to bed without any of my expert, supervisory assistance. I'm sure that this will be used against me in a future argument, but I'm willing to risk it after not seeing my former college roommate in 8 months. This may not seem like very long, but the fact is that we live within walking distance from each other, yet we've both become so wrapped up in our own lives that we've failed to make any time to reminisce about college life or talk about old boyfriends...so yes, it's been far too long! Okay, 6:30 pm is our date at Applebee's, this gives me time to rush home after work and try to get at least one kid dinner ready, not that my assistance is needed. I arrive home around 5:30 pm, Adam and the kids arrive about 15 minutes after, and I am boiling some corn and green beans for Presley. I've waited for Benji to arrive home to ask him what he wants to eat for dinner, I knew that if I made something that he didn't want, Adam would have a definite tantrum on his hands...not that he couldn't handle it without me! Ben finally decides that he wants mac and cheese. Perfect! We have one container of spiral mac and cheese left in the cupboard. Add some corn and green beans as a side and we've got a meal fit for a cowboy! I add the water to the container of uncooked noodles, and place it by the microwave. Adam places the mac and cheese in the micro...3 minutes 30 seconds exactly...START! "I WANT TO COOK IT, I WANT TO COOK IT," calls the cowboy. With Presley in my arms, I rush to the microwave to stop the "cooking" so Ben will be able to open the door, press 3 and then start again. I feel a little less domestic every time Benji refers to placing something in the microwave as actual cooking. Anyway, he pressed start and waited at the table to be served. Presley was placed in her high chair only to fill both fists with bananas, corn, beans, and cut up pieces of pork tenderloin and begin stuffing her mouth.

   Time for me to leave, it's 6:15, my dinner date is in 15 minutes and I really want to squeeze in as much time as possible with my friend during dinner! Without question, Ben throws himself to the floor because he wants to come with me, but I was already 2 steps out of the front door and...there's no going back now, 2 hours of FREEDOM were awaiting! I arrive at Applebee's, get seated at a table, and then text Adam to apologize for leaving him with a screaming 3 year old. My dinner date arrived a few minutes later. We hugged, sat down, and before 5 seconds passed we were already comparing stories of our children and our husbands! We spent 2 hours eating, laughing, and talking solely about our current lives. We didn't bring up college once, we did however share pregnancy stories, birthing stories, and fights with our husbands! As our evening concluded and we once again drove in our separate ways (10 blocks apart), I couldn't help but to think about how far we've come in the past 6 years since college graduation. Then, we couldn't wait to get back to our apartment to plan for the weekend's jello shot party that we were hosting, and now we can't wait to see each other to bounce potty training ideas around! Our lives have definitely been transformed through work, relationships, and children, but I feel so blessed that we can remain such close friends....even if we only see each other once every 8 months!

This picture was taken while we were on Spring Break, Senior year of college. Miami, FL.

Unreality Withdrawals

            Have you ever realized how making a few minor changes in your life can completely affect the way you view yourself? I’m sure you have…but I’m not talking about losing weight, or exercise, or changing your diet, who has time or energy for any of that anyway? After going through withdrawals from my recent “unreality vacation” where I was able to be without kids, without responsibilities, and drive a vehicle that didn’t scream “Babies on board” or “I’m a mom and I’m late for work,” I have made a few simple changes.

            The first change I have made is the size of my purse. My previous purse was able to carry 3 diapers, my over-sized wallet, a book, 4 super-hero figurines, one pack of wipes and if needed, my 8 month old. The purse I have now holds my wallet, a piece of gum, and lip gloss…exactly like college! Yes, it’s quite a sacrifice to not have diapers and wipes at my disposal, but I realized after my “unreality vacation” that I am only with my children during the car ride to daycare, the car ride home, and most other times aside from weekends, we are at home…why do I need to carry all of these things in a mom purse? If I really do need to take all of these items somewhere, I’ll pack the diaper bag!

Previous purse...

New purse.

                                                                     

            The second, and possibly the most important change I’ve made is switching to a different car. Typically car troubles upset people, but the ones we were having couldn’t have come at a better time…it was very easy to convince my husband that it was time for a new vehicle. Now, I was previously driving a Durango which had plenty of space for both kids, both dogs, and my huge double running stroller…and we all know I only carried this around to make people think that I actually run. Well, since it was Adam’s vehicle that was having so many problems, I thought I’d be so kind to give him my Durango and willingly take on another car payment, something with better gas mileage perhaps! And since I drive further to work…I should probably drive the new car that gets better gas mileage anyway, it’s completely logical…at least in my “unreality vacation” withdrawal mindset! Well, I found a vehicle. It has just enough space in the back seat for the two kids, the trunk will fit my single stroller and some groceries, dogs will have to stay home, “better gas mileage hunny!” Along with that better gas mileage, I got a new car that can double as the ride for a girls night out at the casino!

Previous vehicle...

Hot new car.

           

         I feel like a new person…see ladies, 2 simple changes! By the way, I was able to justify the new car by saving so much money on the smaller purse.

Prince Charming

     Growing up I remember hearing my grandma sing, "Some day my prince will come. . .but he hasn't come yet". . .she has been married to my grandpa for over 55 years and sings this when she has had it up to her ears with him!  I never understood what she meant and I actually always felt bad for my grandpa if he came into the room and she was singing her rendition of the song from Disney's Snow White.  But now. . .
     I thought I had met my Prince Charming and I even thought about doing the whole "Princess Wedding" (but my 'prince' disagreed with that theme!).  I met him, I dated him, I married him. . .my prince Charming, my soul mate.   But after we got married my Prince Charming became the grown son I had never had-leaving trails of dishes and laundry.  Being more moody/tantrum throwing than me.  I didn't know I'd be forced to take the 'mother' role. . .that was NOT my plan. 
     Suddenly I understand!  I get it Grandma, TOTALLY get it. . .and I occasionally find myself singing that rendition of the famous Disney song in my head, and sometimes out loud.  How did my Prince Charming just walk out. . .sure there are the occasions that I see little tid bits of that crowned being-the 1 who adored me and did little unasked things to make ME happy. . .but for the most part. . .yeah, you know.
     But last night I realized that I have a new Prince Charming and the ability to raise him as someone else's Prince Charming.  My 3 year old was sitting on the couch with me "snuggling" and his head was on my stomach.  My stomach growled and he sat up and said, "mom, what'd your stomach say? Whats that noise? Why did it do that? Are you ok?"  And I said, "Oh, thats mommy's stomach growling because it is hungry."  And my little prince said, "Oh, mom, I can go find you some food and make everything ALL better!"  HOW amazing is HE?!?!?!?!?! 
     So to all of us who have little princes in our care-it is TOTALLY up to us to make sure these little princes keep their sweet, helpful, strong, caring selves so they can be some Princess's Prince Charming 1 day.

My Poop Is Sleeping

As I arrived home yesterday evening after work and after picking up Presley at daycare, I was met by my husband, a person carpeting our basement stairs, and a DishNetwork associate who was installing the new satellite that Adam decided he couldn’t live without. A few minutes later, Ben and his fur-brother, Mason were dropped off by my sister-in-law after spending the whole nap-less day with their cousins. As you can imagine, things were a little hectic as soon as I stepped out of my car.  Evenings in our home are sometimes rushed anyway with me getting home from work at 5:35pm and trying to have dinner ready by 6pm, then getting baths and bedtime routine started and kids in bed by 8.  Yesterday though, was another story.

            My wonderful, laid back, easy-going Ben is definitely Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strange_Case_of_Dr_Jekyll_and_Mr_Hyde) when a two hour nap isn’t implemented at some point during the day. He was dropped off after having a melt-down about a piece of candy, or something else that means the world to a three year old and means absolutely nothing to the rest of the world. After almost calming down following that melt-down, he inquired about the dishnetwork van in our driveway and wanted to see “the man.” Meanwhile, Presley is crying because her little 8 month old belly is telling her that she’s STARVING. I hand her off to Adam and take Ben to the basement where “the man” is working on the tv and satellite. After a few minutes of Ben staring at “the man” I felt a little awkward just watching him so I tried to convince Ben that we needed to go upstairs and go potty and have dinner (pizza and hot dogs..high-class!). We walked upstairs to the main floor and you would think that I was torturing my child by asking him to go potty, but he finally agreed and climbed onto the potty…where he proceeded to scream, “MY POOP IS SLEEPING, MY POOP IS SLEEPING, I CAN’T POOP. MY POOP IS SLEEPING. IT HURTS. IT WON’T COME OUT. I DON’T WANT TO PEE.”

I’m not sure what was going on in his head, but I was in no way forcing him to stay on the toilet, or even stay in the bathroom, and asked him if he wanted to get down, but he continued, “I DON’T WANT TO POOP, I DON’T WANT TO GET DOWN, I CAN’T PEE, MY POOP IS SLEEPING!” By now, I’m only slightly embarrassed as the dishnetwork man walks by. I refused to make any eye contact, I knew he was judging me! Adam tries to reassure “the man” that Ben hadn’t had a nap and that he’s had a busy few days, not that “the man” cared much because I’m sure he thought that I was in the bathroom torturing my kid. Presley still continues to cry through all of his because she wants her food. The oven timer goes off, pizza is ready! Adam places Presley in her seat to eat her meal of fruit, snack puffs, water, and little pieces of hot dogs, she is satisfied. Ben is now screaming, “I HATE PIZZA, I DON’T WANT HOT DOGS, MY POOP IS SLEEPING!” I like to think that I put on an excellent performance of “Super Xanax Mom” who was able to not raise my voice and stay completely calm throughout all of this, keep in mind that it was just that...a performance, inside I was screaming, "WAKE YOUR DAMN POOP UP AND EAT YOUR PIZZA!" We finally got Ben to the table, his poop never did “wake up”, and he ate some Spongebob shaped macaroni. Most nights I don’t give my kiddos the option to eat whatever they want, but tonight was an exception. The food in his system helped minimally, but it did help and after dinner was bath time, then bed. Bedtime tonight couldn’t come soon enough. After struggling to get him to his bedroom quietly, which didn’t happen, I was sure that he’d be asleep within minutes. I was absolutely WRONG. He remained awake for over an hour, kicking the side of his “bunk house” (this is what he calls his new bunk beds). He finally fell asleep about an hour and a half after we put him to bed…and then all I can think about is having a bottle (yes bottle!) of my favorite wine  (http://www.stjulian.com/Concord%20Wine), but we were all out. Really? This was definitely not the night to be out of wine.

My Super Power

          I love asking children what their super power would be if they could choose one. Without a bit of hesitation, it’s ALWAYS to fly. As we get older, our minds undoubtedly change, in our teen years it is to be invisible or to shape shift, and as adult women I think most of us would choose to read minds. Yes, you’d get the good with the bad and quite frequently you’d hear what everyone thinks of you, but imagine how this would make life at home so much easier. Here are some examples:

Me: “Good morning puppies (yes, I talk to my dogs), are you going to clean the house today while I’m at work?”

Dogs: “Hell no, we are going to sleep on the couch, raid the kitty litter box, and then maybe pee in a hidden spot so you step in it when you get home because we’re mad at you and we think it’s funny.”

In this specific case, after reading their little dog minds, they would be put in their pen outside and away from any source of potential trouble until I arrived home.

Me: “Ben, what do you want for dinner tonight?”

Ben: “No, I don’t want dinner.”

Now, if I was reading his mind, I would know that he wanted to continue playing outside and in his 3 year old mind he’s never tired, never hungry, but that he’ll want to eat 2 bunless hotdogs, bbq potato chips, and milk…in 10 minutes.

And lastly…

Me: “Hey Adam, what do you want to do this weekend. We finally have a free weekend with no plans!”

Adam: “I don’t care.”

Now, without going into specific detail about what my husband is really thinking, I’ll just say that he does actually care and I should give him at least one of the two weekend days to work in the garage or go spend a lot of money at Menards! In today’s world, I think so many of us that should be capable of verbally communicating our feelings have lost the ability, or have never been taught.  Even though my child isn’t quite 3, and my husband just turned 35, I urge them to talk to me about how they are feeling. Happiness, sadness, and anger. We talk about what caused these feelings. I do not claim to be the perfect parent, and parenting is definitely a “learn by your mistakes” type of skill that is probably never perfected, but I do try to do what I think is best, as a wife and a mother. We all know that being a wife, or girlfriend to a man is very similar to parenting at times (just a shot in the dark that most ladies will agree with me on this one!).

Imagine now if our men had the ability to read our minds! Most of the time I think this would work out to our advantage, most of the time!

Adam: “What do you want to do this weekend, Jody?”

Me: “I don’t care.”

He would know that I actually do care, and what I really want is to have a romantic weekend and rent a romantic comedy to pop in after the kiddos go to bed! We’re guilty of it to, sometimes! Life would probably be much easier if everyone could read everyone else’s minds…but since it’s a long time out for most of us, maybe we should just practice the communicating a little more!

I Need My Morning Coffee

            I woke up this morning to the sound of my phone vibrating underneath my pillow. It was 5:58 and it was a text from Adam. I’m one of those people that always assumes someone is going to be in imminent danger and that I’ll be the one that they call to rescue them…so in other words, my phone remains on 24 hours a day. Because of this, I think my phone has decided to play little tricks on me. It absolutely refuses to alarm before 6 am. I have two alarms set on it, one for 5:25, and then a 6:00 am alarm, that is a final warning that I better get my butt out of bed and I better have showered the night before because I have to leave in 30 minutes! Needless to say, my 5:25 alarm had not sounded, and I did not wake up until my husband texted me. Now, my morning routine is scheduled exactly to the minute and if one thing falls out of routine I will not have time to stop at Citgo to buy my 2 for $4 Starbucks doubleshots that fuel my day! So, I now have 30 minutes to get myself dressed and groomed, the dogs fed and put in their kennel, cats put outside for the day, Presley dressed and fed, and Ben dressed, he’s going to have to eat breakfast at daycare today, I simply don’t have time…since I have to get my caffeine fix!

            Okay, animals are taken care of, I’m dressed, and now it’s 6:07 am, I go upstairs to wake Presley up. She’s happy and wakes up willingly. I quickly get her dressed and give her a bottle. I sit her down on the floor, prop her up with a pillow and she feeds herself, what an independent child! (I’m glad I have at least one of those!) Time to go wake Ben up, this is torture for him every day, except on the weekends when he wakes up at 5:30am by himself and refuses to go back to sleep…argh!

Me: “Benji…time to wake up Buddy.”

Ben: “NO”

Me: “Come on Buddy, time to get up.”

Ben: “NO, I want to go to the zoo.” (no idea where this came from!)

Me: “Let’s go Ben. I’m going downstairs, you get up and come down when you’re

       ready.”

Ben: “NO”

So, I leave his room, go downstairs, and put my shoes on. It’s now 6:20 and we need to leave in 10 minutes…because I NEED MY CAFFIENE. It’s now 6:24 am, Ben comes downstairs.

Me: “Hi bud, let’s go potty”

Ben: “NO”

Me: “ You can go outside or in the potty.” (yes, I let my child outside with the                  dogs in the mornings to pee)

Ben: “NO, it’s cold outside.”

Me: “Really Ben, it’s already 80 degrees outside.” (Can you tell I need caffeine?)

He finally decides to go out into the arctic to pee. When he comes back in I get him dressed and of course he hated the underwear that I had picked out for him. He hated the shirt that I had picked out for him, and the shorts were okay, but he wasn’t happy with me. Like every other day in Ben’s life, he HAS to wear his bright blue cowboy boots. He put one on and screamed because it wasn’t warm. I have no idea what his meant and still don’t, but all I know is that by now it was exactly 6:30 and the thought of me not getting my starbucks had my anxiety rising like a thermometer in hell. By now, he didn’t want his boots because they weren’t warm, but he didn’t want his sandals either (even though the temperature is supposed to be 96 degrees today and humid). “You have until the count of three to get to the car or Presley and I are leaving without you.” No, I wasn’t actually going to leave, but a 3 year old doesn’t know that so it worked! He ran out to the car screaming…and barefoot. (My neighbors love us.) I grabbed his SANDALS and marched to the car, irritated. I buckled Ben in, tossed his SANDALS on the floor and shut the door. 6:37 now. I drove to daycare, carried him in…barefoot, and then carried Presley in, she’s still smiling through all of the chaos! I sign the kids in, reported Presley’s morning bottle and diaper change, and gave Ben a hug, told the kiddos that I loved them and I’m out the door….FINALLY.

            I decide to stop at the store whether it was going to make me late for work or not, I wasn’t ready to face the day without my doubleshot of energy! I bought my canned coffee, and sped to work, made it on time..I can finally relax. Work is so much easier than kids! God Bless all of the stay-at-home parents, there’s no way I could ever do that!!!!