What did I get myself into?

            There comes a time in many of our lives when we have to ask ourselves a very important question. “Do I want to marry this man and take his last name?”  Yes, you love him with all of your heart and would do anything for him…and then you meet his family.  Like every young person growing up, I thought I had the craziest family, when I met Adam’s family I realized I was wrong. Here’s what I willingly walked into…

1. Adam’s Mom was an amazing woman. She fell victim to breast cancer a couple of years ago, however I did get to know her a little bit in the short time that Adam and I were together before she passed. I blame her for me saying yes to this whole marriage thing. Sue was the sweetest, funniest, and most down-to-earth person ever. She truly felt like a second mother to me. Sue and I shared a common love for animals, so she thought it was funny when I would bring another furry member into the household, Adam would be livid, but as long as his mom was okay with it, I knew he’d eventually get over it! Sue loved good music, so do I. She was there to talk, and even listened when I would complain about her own son, she sympathized with me! I watched her patiently handle her husband’s antics, and I grew a deep respect for this woman as a wife, mother, and friend. There was a short period of time when Adam and I had called it quits (before marriage obviously), but Sue and I kept in touch via snail mail. When I became pregnant with Benji, she was elated and wanted nothing more than to be a “gramma.” Needless to say, she had me hooked on this family!

2. Adam’s dad is one of a kind. After the first time meeting him, which I mentioned in a previous post, I was a little leery, however he eased nerves by telling ridiculous stories that are almost too crazy to be fake. One of these stories entailed him being injured and requiring a blood transfusion. The blood that was given to him was Native American blood, and he now tells people he’s an Indian. Still to this day, I’m not sure if this story is made up or true, however the minute details often change. He wore a long braided pony tail forever, actually up until a few months ago, and the only time I’ve seen him dressed in something other than camo and work boots was at our wedding, and even then he wore the work boots. He lives outside. Yes, most of the time he lives outside in a shack that resembles something the Unibomber created, and it’s also covered in a camo tarp. He cooks his meals over a fire…and many of his meals are made of something that he hunted. I’m not sure if this was happening before the blood transfusion, or if it began after he turned into an Indian.

3. Ryan is Adam’s twin brother. They claim to be identical, however their mom always said they were not. They do look very much alike and oftentimes have been known to walk out on each other’s bar tabs telling the bartender that they are the other one. I realized long ago that I would never be number one in Adam’s life because he had Ryan. It’s not uncommon for them to talk on the phone 4-5 times each day, especially when Jeopardy is on. They’re best friends through and through, and Ryan’s wife warned me long ago that when you marry one of them, you inevitably get both. I should have listened to her!

So, I often question what I got myself into, and then I usually just laugh. I really couldn’t have asked for a more caring, generous, or funny family. Although there are some quirky things, some I have mentioned, and a million that I haven’t, every family is quirky in its own unique way!

Below are pictures of my father-in-law...I made Adam take these pictures specifically so I could write about them!



Yeah, that's a rubbermaid tote with a hole in it..."so the puppy doesn't jump off and get hurt."



Most of the time both dogs ride the 4-Wheeler with him!

It wouldn't Flush

            I remember the first day meeting Adam’s dad. He had showed up at Adam’s house, where we had been hanging out after work on a regular basis. Adam went outside to meet him because he knew I wasn’t quite ready to “meet the parents” yet. I figured that they would talk for a little while, and I knew this was going to be my only real private time to use the bathroom. Private to me means much more than just the bathroom door being closed, I needed an empty house. As soon as Adam had walked outside to meet his dad, I rushed into the bathroom, did my business, flushed...and it didn’t go down. Panic started to take over, I flushed again…nothing except more water. One more flush, now every horrible thought is going through my head.

1. There’s no plunger to be found

2. Poop water is going to be all over the floor.

3. It smells.

4. Adam’s going to have to look at my poop.

                        And….

5. I’m going to have to interrupt the conversation between my brand new boyfriend and his father to tell Adam that I’ve clogged the toilet. (THAT’S NOT EMBARASSING AT ALL…OMG)

            I took a few deep breaths, outside of the bathroom of course, tried to exhale all of the red out of my face, and went for it. I hesitantly walked outside where I was introduced to Adam’s dad for the very first time. After saying our hellos and greetings, our conversation was as follows:

Me: “There’s something wrong with the toilet.” (Hoping that he’d take the hint and cut his conversation short.)

Adam: “What’s wrong with it.”

Me:  “Umm…it won’t flush?!”

Adam: “Why won’t it flush?”

Me: (I’m more mortified than ever right now)  “Because it’s clogged.”

Adam: “What’d you do, pee or poop?”

Me: “Um…can you just come look at the toilet please?”

And finally, he did. After going through this embarrassment, now I have to face Adam looking at my poop. I was sure that after that day, I’d never be invited back to hang out at his house, and if I was by chance invited back, I was going to buy a brand new, super flushing toilet to bring back with me!  Adam was able to be a gentleman about the issue, well…as gentlemanly as one can be after looking at his new girlfriend’s poop. I was invited back to his house, and his dad has NEVER brought up the first time we met…and now Adam and I are married. But I still require complete privacy before entering the bathroom….Since that horrible day we’ve bought a new toilet that works excellent, and a plunger is kept handy next to the fancy new toilet…just in case!

Ohhhh....shit!

 

 

Move Over Bieber

            I hope that I never become one of those crazy parents that feel the need to fight with a coach or referee, or force my kids into activities that they do not like or have no interest in, or keep my kids so incredibly busy that they never grow an imagination. However, I do strive to be a parent that fosters every talent and interest that my children have. I like to think that I do a pretty good job of this right now, Presley being only 10 months old is very interested in food…so I feed her…and she never stops eating. She’s good at it, it makes her happy, and she has learned to sign the word “more” when she’s cleared the whole bowl peas, half of a chicken breast, and 8 raspberries off of her tray, oh and the pre-dinner appetizer of cheerios. She really NEVER stops! Now, Ben’s a little more of a challenge when it comes to nurturing his interests because they are often ever-changing.  Within a single week Ben has been fascinated with baseball, Cowboys, TB cartoons (TV to most of us), hot air balloons, his dog, playgrounds, Biano (most of us call this a Piano), and his Woody doll (from Toy Story). So, you can imagine that it may be a little tough to keep up, but most people with 3 year olds are riding in the same boat on this one! There is one thing though, that has maintained Ben’s interest since he was a baby…Music, especially live music. While so many kids would ignore a live band or go about their business playing, Ben has always made himself front row whenever possible. It’s always been a fight to leave the scene of live music too, he would stay all night and just watch. Then he got a little bit older, and the watching became dancing, and now that he’s 3 he’s back to being shy to dance in public, but still makes himself front row to seize the sound and rhythm. We still catch him bobbing his head to the music and it appears that he has pretty good rhythm, much more than his father at least! Because we’ve been able to let Ben be around live music, he’s also taken a love for playing instruments. Move over Justin Bieber, here comes Benji!  For Christmas this past year, Ben received a shiny new guitar from Santa. He loved it! A few weeks ago I found a keyboard (Biano) for $0.25 at a yard sale, I couldn’t pass it up. He enjoys this too, and so does lil Presley! Amazing how two children produced from two “musically challenged” individuals have such a fond interest in instruments and music! I’m about 107% positive that they’ll be the next big singing duo in 15 years. I hope that the interest in music is something that lasts, we love watching and listening to our little rock stars!

 

 (singing "You've got a Friend in me")

 

(Part of the Rawhide themesong...minus all of the other words)

(After this, he was invited on stage...he played the drums)

 

Love love love these years!

 

 

 

2 Lessons about Men...from Mom

            I still consider myself “new” to this whole marriage thing. I started dating in high school and it wasn’t until I was out of college and into my first real job that I met the man that is now my husband. So, I dated for a few years, different people on and off and in doing so I learned quite a lot about what I wanted in a man, and what I didn’t, how to be in a relationship, and how and how not to love somebody. Even with all of the things that I learned throughout all of my dating experiences, I am still not always good at being married. I do try, but you see, I’m a selfish person and often times I want what I want, and I want it NOW. A little impulsivity never hurt anyone! I should give my husband some credit here because although I may not always get what I want instantly, I usually end up getting what I want eventually, I’m just not sure he realizes this yet…but that’s okay!  Let me elaborate….

As I’ve mentioned before, I had an amazing childhood, but what I want to discuss goes far beyond all of my memories of riding ponies, running free on my parent’s 100+ acre farm, or being the annoying little sister that always listened in on my brother’s private phone calls. I have so many fond memories of the smirks, whispered comments, and eye rolls that my mother and I would share behind my dad’s back! Don’t get me wrong, this is NOT disrespect….it is pure and simple SURVIVAL when living with a man! My poor mother had lived in a house full of boys for about 12 years before I was born, and then about 12 more years until I was able to understand her gestures that often illustrated her frustration, annoyance, or sarcasm!  There were two survival techniques in particular that my mother taught me when dealing with a man.

1. ALWAYS make a man think that it’s his idea! You may be asking, “What is his idea?” Well  ladies, anything and everything. My mom was right, and I never forgot it. For instance, if I mention to Adam that we should go out to dinner he usually comes up with some reason as to why we can’t, or shouldn’t on that particular night. However, if I call him on my way home from work and ever-so-caringly ask him what he’d like for dinner and then slyly mention that I haven’t been to the grocery store lately, he will suggest going out to dinner….NEVER FAILS! It’s a win-win situation…I got what I wanted, and he gets credit for his BRILLIANT idea!

2.  ALWAYS make sure that you will be financially stable if for some reason you lost your other half. I’m sure that this was a cunning suggestion that my mom planted in my head to encourage me to go to college and prepare myself for a career that paid well, and it worked. I’ve never had to financially depend on anyone else, aside from my parents when I was a child. I love this about myself, and I love that my mom planted this seed in my head. I also love my “secret” bank account at a completely separate bank that NOBODY else has access to! Typically, this gets used up on “wants” of mine rather than needs, but I feel secure knowing that it’s there…and completely untouchable to anyone but me!

       So, along with the day to day survival techniques that we must have, keep in mind the two things that my mother taught me as a little girl! It’s always HIS idea, and open a secret “shopping” account, it'll come in very handy when you "need" that next new pair of shoes! Both of these are brilliant…thanks mom!

Time Machine

            After a very frustrating and defeating few days at home, I decided to take a little of that selfishness without guilt that the XY chromosomes carry and steal it for myself. After a few quick and witty texts back and forth with a girlfriend whose husband happened to be out of the house for the day, I grabbed the remaining ice cream that was in my freezer and a box of family sized brownie mix and headed over to her house…alone. I left the kids and dogs with my husband. Before leaving my house I told Adam that we’d be working on “baby stuff” as my friend happens to be pregnant, this assured that he wouldn’t ask any questions about my secret plans. For no reason at all other than my comment about working on “baby stuff,” I was already feeling a little too sneaky. I headed out the door anyway…ice cream and brownies in hand. When I arrived at my destination, I was happy to see that she was still rocking her pajamas because I was completely un-showered and had carelessly thrown on a t-shirt that smelled like my dog. The ice cream went to the freezer for safekeeping, we spent about 13 minutes complaining about our husbands while mixing up the brownie batter and preparing our tantalizingly amazing lunch of crescents filled with pepperoni and cheese, and then set the timer…for heaven.  The crescents were ready first, so of course we grabbed a few for our plates and headed to the tv where we found a Sex and the City marathon. The brownies were soon finished, and although the crescents did a wonderful job of curbing our hunger, who can resist 2 hot brownies topped with cookies ‘n cream ice cream?          

See, Allison and I met in college and have remained close friends since that very first day we set up a meet and greet after searching long and hard throughout our entire college campus for a roommate. I don’t want to say that we were desperate for a roommate for the following year, but we were both at the point of panic when we were about 6 days from having to settle for the weird girl on campus that smelled like chicken noodle soup and had a pet chinchilla. Needless to say, we were happy to have found each other back then and I am so incredibly thankful that I still have her today to share stories, complaints, Sex and the City, and most importantly food. The same food that we ate daily when we were 21 with speedy metabolisms. With all of this paradise going on around me, I was temporarily able to forget that I was married, forget that I was a mom, and forget that I was a part of real society. With a box of “homemade” brownies, ice cream, and some excellent entertainment on the TV, I felt as if I had stepped into a time machine and had been taken back to our college apartment! No worries, no stress, lots of food, and lots of laughing. Our visit only lasted a couple of hours, but that was the most amazing few hours that I’ve had in a very long time!

This was a picture of us taken Halloween night "back then"

You Deserve It

            As a bit of a belated birthday gift, I surprised my mother with a facial today. I knew she had never had one, wouldn’t go for it, and may even put up a fuss…and I was right. It’s a good thing I simply told her that I was taking her somewhere and that she needed to be at my house and ready to go by 9:45 am. The facial was scheduled for 10:00am. This particular facial included a pampering massage of the chest, arms, hands, and feet along with all of the other amazing things that will be done to your face. Once we arrived, I warned her that she might fall asleep and she might drool, it’s okay…it happens to the best of us! Hesitantly, she followed the specialist back to the magical room of rest and relaxation. After about an hour, she reappeared…slowly walking down the hall as if she were in a drunken stupor. It was quite a sight to see, and when she finally reached the waiting area where I was sitting and snickering at her, she simply said, “ahhhh.” I asked her how it was, she loved it of course and then said something that was a bit unnerving to me, “The whole time I was in there, I was thinking why me? This shouldn’t be happening to me.”  I reassured her that yes, it should, she deserved it, and she should do things for herself more often. I thought about this comment all day, of course, letting it stew and grow and raise my anxiety…yeah, I have a difficult time letting things go, just ask my husband…stop judging! Anyway, I began to wonder how many other women, especially from my mother’s generation, feel so undeserving of a little bit of pampering?  My mother has worked since her young teenage years, earned a BA and then MA in the teaching profession, successfully raised 3 amazing children (the third one being most amazing), put those same three children through college,  taught hundreds of children, and adults alike to read, write, count, listen, and become successful and productive citizens, stayed faithful in her 40+ year marriage to my father,  nurtured countless sick animals back to health on her farm, and cooked meals and hand-washed dishes every single day for those 40+ years that she’s been married. She has hosted numerous birthdays, Christmas celebrations, Thanksgivings and Easters at her house. She has trudged her way through snow, mud, and thunderstorms every single day to feed and water all of the horses, cats, dogs, goats and every other animal that one of her three children left behind when they went off to college…and throughout all of this, I don’t remember a complaint.  And she doesn’t think she deserves an hour long facial?  To that I say...What the Hell?                                                    

 I think that so many women have let themselves become oblivious to their own needs. No, a facial isn’t necessarily a NEED, but time to reflect upon your day, or your week, is a need. I think that it’s good to sit back and think about yourself once in a while, or often, whatever you feel fit! Personally, I haven’t yet let myself get to the point where I believe that I’m undeserving, if I don’t get my monthly, or at very minimum my bi-monthly pedicure I turn into the mommy and wife from hell. I think that as women, we do a lot, and the majority of the “a lot” is for other people. Some people need the care, some people expect the care, and others just simply demand the care, any way you want to look at it, much of what so many women do is for someone other than herself. So women…go ahead, take a friend, or go by yourself…go for a silent walk in the woods, but don’t take the stroller. Go for a drive, but turn off the kid music. Go have some dessert and drinks, and don’t take your husband. And for heaven’s sake, go get a damn facial once in a while…you deserve it!

Maybe Just a Few Bruises...

            Once again, the guilt overwhelmed me the other day as I had anticipated a semi-long evening run all day while at work.  You see, I’m currently training for a half-marathon…you know, the type of activity that screams I’m far too lazy to train for a full marathon, but I’m way better than everyone that only runs 5Ks!  Completely kidding, I don’t judge people who don’t work out…most of the time! Anyway, you can imagine that training for a half marathon in only 2 months requires a bit of a time commitment, time that I had been spending away from my kiddos. Adam has been supportive in my quest and has been available to be home whenever I’ve needed to take one of my scheduled runs, but that doesn’t take away from the guilt mom’s often have when they aren’t spending enough quality time with their babies. I realized that I hadn’t been around enough when both kids were clinging to Adam and wanting to sit on his lap in the evenings rather than mine. As annoying as it gets sometimes when your children hang all over you, it’s pretty disconcerting when you realize that they don’t want to hang on you anymore. So, to make myself feel a little better, I asked Benji if he wanted to go for a run with me. This perked his interest, but he wasn’t completely sure if he wanted to tag along until I told him that we could stop at the playground on the way home. A little bribe here and there to regain the title of favorite parent never hurt anyone! I got myself dressed in my running gear, Ben put on his favorite pair of cowboy boots and then climbed into my running stroller.

            And….we were off. As we rolled out of the driveway, a fine mist fell over us. I assumed that the skies would clear and we would be fine, so we continued on our venture. It had been a while since I had taken Benji running with me, and it wasn’t until then that I realized he’d grown a little. As if pushing the 30+ pound stroller wasn’t enough, we successfully added 30+ more pounds to it with my lil man. I’m failing to remember why we have nicknamed him Tiny. Before we reached the end of our street I had changed my plan of a semi-long run, to a condensed run with muscle building and weight resistance. As we strolled on with what seemed like the speed of a sloth, the mist turned into a drizzle.  As we rounded mile 2ish, the drizzle turned into a rain….and around mile 3 as we finally reached the playground, the rain had turned into a downpour. Hoping that Big Tiny had changed his mind about the playground, I let him make the decision to stop and play or continue home to get out of the rain. Of course he wanted to stop and play….he’s 3. Since I was already dripping with rainwater I convinced myself that there was no harm in staying to play, we couldn’t really get any more wet than we were already. So we stayed. Benji was so excited, as usual, about the slides and he asked me to slide with him. Being the little daredevil that he is, he chose the biggest, curly cue slide to go down. We both climbed to the top, him in his cowboy boots and me in my soggy tennis shoes. Ben went first. He reached the bottom and called for me to come down, so I did…and at 104 mph I slid down that thing, nearly flew out of one of the turns and bruised my elbow along the way. I felt like I was an extra in the movie Cool Runnings. (If you don’t know what that is, look it up, I’m disappointed in you!) As the end of the slide came into sight I braced myself and my feet for the landing…but my soggy feet were not prepared to stop a body flying at 104 mph. Being the age that I am, and through the many experiences I’ve had in my life with common water, I should have anticipated that the slide would be much more slippery when wet, but I didn’t. Needless to say, I flew out of the end of that slide about 3 feet, landed flat on my butt, covered myself in woodchips, and woke up the next day with a bruised hip…and ego! Ben thought it was absolutely hilarious and laughed the entire way home threatening to tell his daddy that “mommy fell on her butt!” He was right though, it was pretty hilarious and if anyone saw me, besides Ben, I’m sure they also got a good laugh out of it. Sometimes as a parent you have to remember how to be a kid, at least once in a while…I promise it’ll make for some amazing memories, and maybe just a few bruises!

This is not the exact piece of playground equipment that we were using,
 however the actual slide itself is the same.  And....that's
enough laughing.

Some things you need to know...Part 1

                I specifically remember when I was a sophomore in college, I had a handful of girlfriends over, and I’m not sure how the topic came about, but it did….do women really poop during childbirth? This could not be true, I had to call my mom. So, with my friends surrounding me, I was about to prove the point that this is a complete myth. My mother has given birth to 3 children, one little one, one fat one, and then of course…a perfect one, she would be able to set us all straight.

Me: “Hey Mom, we have a weird question for you.”

Mom:  “Okay.”

Me: “Do women really poop during childbirth?”

Mom: (laughing) “Yes, they can.”

And that was all I needed to hear. I was never going to have children. I never forgot that, and it’s almost embarrassing to admit that I was thankful that I had a C-Section with my first child because the thing that scared me most was my husband watching me poop and me not knowing it happened. Awkward! Now, after two births, one c-section, one natural, I have learned that there are quite a few things that people do not tell expectant mothers…or expectant fathers for that matter.  After taking a small poll here is what I came up with….

1. Yes, many women do, in fact, poop during childbirth. You may never feel it, or even notice that it happened because everyone around you is embarrassed for you and they’ll never tell….unless you have a husband like mine.  Your body often has a natural was of cleaning itself out a few days before you go into labor, often times you may make many trips to the bathroom as part of the cleansing process, or maybe you just will not feel hungry.  The few days prior to each of my children being born I lost my appetite, but then again…I love food, so I ignored that natural appetite suppressant and continued to eat, you can imagine the outcome.

2. After childbirth, you may continue to bleed for several weeks. This is normal…but what is not normal is the size of the pads that they give you at the hospital. These pads measure approximately 14 inches by 8 inches. No, they don’t actually fit inside your underwear, they bunch up, and don’t even try walking around with those…I would have rather worn depends. At least I’ll know what to pack in my bag for my next baby!

3. Yes, your husband will want to be intimate with you again. Although he may tell you, “it can’t be any different than a cow giving birth,” it is. And yes, my husband told me that…he used to work on a dairy farm. Apparently another human making its way into the world by way of your wife’s  “hoohoo” has no impact on a man’s sex drive. He’ll be marking the calendar for those next 6 weeks to pass before you get the “okay” from the doctor to resume “normal activity.”

4. Day 4-5 after giving birth you are in horrible pain. Your stomach is cramping, it hurts to walk, move, anything...you should head to the bathroom. You probably need to poop. Yes, it's probably the scariest thing you've ever had to do, aside from actually birthing your child, and it may hurt a little...but the end result will do wonders for your stomach cramps.

5.   Finally…yes, it’s scary, but it’s not that bad. At least it wasn’t for me. I refused to be a screaming banshee during childbirth. As the nurse watched a severe contraction on the monitor my reaction, with a grimaced face, was “ouch.” Did I want to scream and tell my husband how much of an idiot I thought he was, and yell at the world…yes, but I refused. Women were built to give birth, and if it becomes difficult…they’ll do a c-section! It will all be over in a matter of time and you’ll quickly forget how horrible it seemed. Keep in mind, if it was THAT BAD, women would never have a second child!

               

I definitely need to be medicated...

            Waking up to a light rain this morning was a bit of a welcomed surprise. It’s been rather dry, and I’m not quite sure what grass mixture we have growing in our backyard, Desert Weed or Hillbilly Hay, but it’s not enjoyable to walk on barefoot…which is how we roll! Anyway, the rain was pleasant…until I had to take put the dogs outside in their kennel to feed them. Both of my dogs are pretty driven by any sort of food, but this morning there was no motivating factor behind plain old dog food for Mason. He stepped outside, saw a bolt of lightning and raced back into the garage. With one dog secured in the kennel, I raced back to the garage to find little Mason sitting next to the door shaking with fear. I put a leash on him, and ran as fast as I could while wearing Adam’s huge untied tennis shoes, my underwear, a t-shirt and no bra, back to the kennel to feed and secure Mason. Man, if my neighbors ever wanted a real circus show they should wake up early, put on their night vision goggles and just watch my backyard; it’s always a sight to see.

            After the dogs were fed, cats were fed, it was time for me to wake the kids up and feed them breakfast. Adam gave me a goodbye kiss and he left for work.  I climbed upstairs, first went to Benji’s room to turn his light on so we could try to avoid the gargoyle effect that happens each morning after dragging him out of bed, and then to Poo’s crib for a happy greeting. She awakens with a smile every day, I’m sure this will disappear when she’s a little older, but I love it now. As I pick her up and start to walk downstairs, I hear a door slam. I froze. Then I hear the refrigerator door open and someone shuffling things around. It must be a hungry, masked murderer here to kill me and steal my kids. I hold Presley tighter, stand quiet for a moment, and then say, “hello?” No answer. “Adam…?”  It was Adam, I breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded downstairs. Of course it was Adam, why would a murderer be going through the fridge? Adam leaves again…for real this time! I place Presley in her seat, give her a breakfast of an egg and sliced bananas, and creep back upstairs to sing Benji awake. He slowly crawls out of bed, I carry him downstairs, and he follows his normal predictable routine of pointing to the lounge chair and then pointing to the remote. Benji doesn’t talk in the mornings until he’s had his “juicy,” his morning fix.  I turn on the tv to G.I. Joe Renegades which is his other morning addiction, and look out the back window into the dark yard. Meanwhile, I’m imagining that there is a killer waiting in the garage for me. I’ve grown a lot of expertise in the “stay calm for your kids” skill, so on the outside I may look calm and cool, but my mind is usually pretty skeptical of the killers and rapists that wait behind every corner. I know, once again, I should probably be medicated. After the morning routine nears finality, I run outside to start my car. It’s still raining and occasional bolts of lightning and booms of thunder are happening. And yes, my mind overtakes me once again…now I panic because I’m pretty damn sure that I’m going to be struck dead by lightning, and Adam will return home from work this afternoon to find me lying breathless in the yard, Ben still watching Ninjas on TV and Presley screaming in her highchair.

            I survived. My kids were driven safely to daycare, and I made it safely to work. I think that having children has caused me to become a paranoid schizophrenic. Five years ago I did not have any of these irrational fears, but now I’m always quite sure that I’m going to end up dead and my kids will have to grow up without me. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. As I walked in to work though, and began to relax a little, I had a horrid realization…I had left my cell phone somewhere. Now, how the hell am I going to get through nine hours of work without my connection to the outside? Surely today will be the day that the world will come to an end and I’ll have no way of calling Adam to warn him.

Ben's Photo Shoot

   I had an idea, and an inspiration, and being the impulsive person that I am my anxiety was racing all day while I planned to try my hand at photography with Presley. I bought a makeshift backdrop, had an outfit planned, and lots of cute props. After work, I raced home to find her screaming and moody...of course she wanted food. We made grilled pizza, AMAZING BY THE WAY, and she was happy...but dirty. So, to fulfil my need to be creative for the day, I took Benji out for a photo shoot!  The pictures tell the whole story...


This was my new inspiration.



First, my lil cowboy went riding through the woods.



And then, of course he was bored with the horse...





So we did some balancing.



And then that became a bore...





So it was time to fly.





He found a "stick gun."




But now we'll be serious...let's pose.





He's so annoyed right now.



And he's done...enough modeling.

   And that was our night!

Batman

Mason, thrilled as usual.

          I’m not sure at what point I need to begin making my little cowboy join the real world, but honestly, I’m probably not going to worry about it anytime soon. I love the imagination of kids, and the innocence, and the fact that they truly believe that they can be anything they want to be when they grow up…including Batman. The other day I asked Benji what he wanted to be when he grew up, he had 2 answers. The first was “strong like daddy” and the second was “Batman.” It’s rare that we leave the house without some piece of Lone Ranger or super hero gear on, and we never, ever leave without the essential bright blue cowboy boots that only come off for bedtime. I’ve even entered the room several times to find little Presley or Mason, our puggle, wearing a cowboy hat that Ben has placed on their heads. Ben is living in a completely different world than anyone else at this point. In his world, he can be Superman, Batman, and the Lone Ranger in the same hour, he can “fly” off of chairs and not worry about feeling the effects of it the next day like an adult would, and he can feel unashamed when dressing up like his idols. We only get to do that on Halloween! As we leave the privacy of our home, Ben receives several compliments on his cowboy boots, but usually fails to take note of this as he sees nothing at all unusual about wearing cowboy boots, or capes, or masks while everyone else is dressed so generically. I can’t wait until Presley is a little bit older so I can take a fairy princess and a cowboy with a cape to the grocery store! I can’t emphasize enough, the innocence, imagination, and blissful unawareness that children have…and the fact that we stifle this by molding them into what everyone else thinks they should be. I wish that Benji could grow up to be Batman, but I doubt that he’ll ever have a job offer after showing up to an interview in a cape and mask…and cowboy boots! It’s inevitable, they will have to grow up and learn social norms, but for now, I’m going to hold on to my space ranger as long as possible!

He Needs a Toothbrush

            “Please take me out for a very surprising and super romantic date Saturday night after the kids go to bed.”  I anxiously awaited a reply to this text message that I had sent to my husband on Thursday. And nothing.  I shouldn’t say nothing, but it seemed like forever. I waited a couple of hours before getting the okay for my “surprise date!” Saturday night rolled around, we had a babysitter, and not knowing where we were going I slipped on a flowery summer dress, 1 inch heels, and straightened my hair…I figured this look could fit in most places! Luckily, I was right. Adam took me to a nice restaurant that I had never been to, our food was decent, but more importantly…we were out on a date, no kids, just us! People always say that you shouldn’t talk about your kids, or anything else that could be a stressful topic while out on a date with your spouse, it should be a time to reconnect and rekindle. Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but we ALWAYS talk about our kids when we’re away from them! As we started reminiscing, I was reminded of some of the fears that I had before giving birth to my first child. Below is a list of 5 of the things that scared me most…

1. Will my husband ever want to have sex with me again after watching me give birth?

2. I’ve heard that people poop during child birth…OMG…I CAN’T EVEN FART IN FRONT OF HIM!

3. Adam trying to be reassuring, but scaring the hell out of me with this statement, “Raising a kid can’t be that much different from having a puppy.” And yes, he was serious.

4. As we’re registering for baby items for my upcoming shower Adam says in a panic, “We have to register for a toothbrush. He is going to need a toothbrush. If we don’t brush his teeth he’ll get mildew in his mouth.” (Really?? Mildew? He doesn't even have teeth.)

5. In this hospital awaiting my emergency C-Section Adam says, “I’ve heard it’s just like gutting a deer.”

            After the fear that these statements and thoughts had filled me with, I was pretty sure that I’d be a single parent after a month!  Apparently I was the only one concerned that parenting would be difficult, and definitely the only one concerned that Adam wouldn’t ever look at me the same way after watching me give birth. Although he was fearful of mildew building in our soon-to-be born baby’s mouth, he didn’t seem worried about much else, even as I was in labor at the hospital. I had no idea how I was going to do all of this alone, I had forever only been responsible for myself and my dogs…and dogs are easy, most of the time. According to my husband a baby wasn’t going to be any different. Thankfully, my fears became his reality…well some of them. The c-section was similar, but not quite like “gutting a deer.”  We both quickly realized that when the baby cried or didn’t want to sleep at night, we couldn’t kennel him or put him in the garage. Adam realized that mildew doesn’t form inside of baby’s mouths. And I learned how a man changes after his child is born. He fell in love with lil Ben. He became a daddy, and now that Benji is 3, he loves to play ball with his daddy. My irrational fears are gone, although maybe not that irrational, but they are gone. Now I’m onto a whole new set of irrational fears…like the world coming to an end in a few months and accidentally farting in my sleep.

I'll keep Pretending...

Alarm sounds at 5:30am, snooze. Oh, and by the way, what kind of alarm only has a 5 minute snooze button? Mine does. 5:35….snooze. 5:40….once again, snooze, and of course 5:45 am…time to drag myself out of bed. Presley is already awake crying, the dogs are running in circles around me because they need to go outside and want their breakfast, and then I stumble over my shoes that I had left in the middle of the living room as I must have just walked out of them on my way to bed last night, I have no recollection of this. Groggily, I lift my feet one by one up the steps to find my screaming Presley standing in her crib, apparently starving. I pick her up, take her downstairs to her highchair and give her some bananas and cheerios to content her while I make her usual morning egg. I now have about 2 minutes to let the egg cool, during this time I quickly let the dogs outside to pee, feed them, feed the cats and check on the bunnies…and I’m back in the house before Presley starts “starving” again. Yes, this is when I get most of my exercise, I’m so glad that most of my neighbors are still sleeping at this hour, it might be a little awkward for the people next door to see a girl running through her backyard in underwear and a t-shirt carrying two bowls of dog food. I grew up in the country and I refuse to change my habits! Anyway, I give Presley her cooled off “eggie” and it’s now time to wake Benjamin up. This task is comparable to trying to drag a troll out from under a bridge…scary and dangerous! After poking, prodding, coaxing, and singing my little cowboy awake, he tells me that he cannot walk. It’s 6am and I really don’t feel like fighting so I carry him downstairs where he is placed in the recliner. Ben doesn’t usually have many words in the mornings, he just points to most things. This morning as we walked downstairs he pointed to the chair, so without argument that’s where he remained until 6:30 when we had to leave! I got him dressed, Presley dressed and cleaned up, and now time for myself. Thankfully it was yet another casual day at work, so even with a cute black top and some heels I can pull off the image that I actually have my life together! I put on my shirt, jeans, cute heels, earrings, brush my teeth, run my fingers through my hair and it’s time to go. I'm going for the carefree and beautiful look if you couldn't tell! Out the door, kids buckled in the car, myself buckled and we’re off. The morning starts off slow as usual, still groggy, but it starts to pick up after my morning caffeine kicks in and my brain begins to wake up.

After several trips to the bathroom, break-room, supervisor’s office, friend’s desks…I realize that I’ve been wearing my shirt backwards all day. It was now 1:15pm. I had gone about 7 hours walking around pretending to have myself together…and then really…a backwards shirt? Nobody had said a thing, I’m not sure if they hadn’t noticed (unlikely) or were just being nice.  Even Ben was able to place his cowboy boots on the right feet this morning. One of these days I’ll get it right, but for now I’ll just keep pretending!   

This is how I want people to see me every day.

 But...this is what I look like when I wake up.

And this is what I feel like most mornings.

What's Daddy Saying?

          I arrived home around 5:30 last night from work, my energy was lacking…dinner was going to have to be postponed a few minutes. With Presley in my arms, I retreated to my basement hideout, turned on the TV and nearly fell asleep….nearly. Presley wasn’t going to let that happen of course. After a few minutes of the little bit of relaxation that one can have while watching an infant, I dragged myself off the couch and upstairs to start getting dinner around. I had not been sleeping well, and the 10 minute “almost nap” didn’t revive me…dinner was going to be eggs and hotdogs. Perfect combination, right? At least something in the mix is healthy, right? The side dishes to my dinner fit for cowboys and little princesses were frozen rasberries, cherry tomatoes, and two different kinds of potato chips for lil Benji. I’m pretty sure if allowed he would make potato chips his entire meal any day of the week! Adam was on his own tonight, he wasn’t feeling the eggs and hotdogs.

          As Adam and I talked about the day and the frustrations I had been having with my recent lack of “me” time and feeling so run down, you know, the usual talks that every mom has with every dad when the children are young. Althought it appeared that Benji was preoccupied with his bbq and plain potato chips, he was indeed listening. They’re ALWAYS listening, but they don’t always know what we’re saying. About 10 minutes after Adam and I had moved on with other things, and the conversation and ceased, Ben says, “mommy, what was Daddy saying when he was talking to your boobies?” Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about. I replied with, “Benji, dude, I have no idea what you are asking me.” And again, “What did Daddy mean when he was talking to your boobies?” Now Adam interjects with, “What on earth is he asking?” Meanwhile, Presley is gumming down frozen raspberries, she obviously didn’t care who was talking to my boobies. I satisfied Ben’s curiosity by explaining to him that his daddy was not talking to my boobies, and that he was in fact, talking to my face! 

          I remember when I was a young child staying with my cousins while my mom worked. We were all riding our trikes and toys in a circle in the driveway. My younger cousin had stopped, which in turn caused all of the followers to stop. One of the on-looking adults said, “Thomas…move ahead.” Little Tommy stared and continued to sit still. “Thomas, move ahead,” a little more stern this time. And again, Tommy didn’t move. A third time, “THOMAS, MOVE AHEAD!” Tommy got up off of his toy, walked to the closest cousin behind him on a different toy, placed his hands on their head and turned it sideways. He had moved a head, he did exactly what he had been told to do! That story has been in our family for years and it always gets a laugh out of anyone we tell it to! It makes you understand how literal children take our words and actions. I have no idea how Ben got the idea that his daddy was talking to my boobies during our conversation, but obviously something must have happened or a word was said that he interpreted in a different way. Next time Adam and I need to have a conversation though, I’ll be sure to make sure he’s looking at my face the whole time!