Superhero, with a side of evil

Moms are superhero's. The phrase is uttered so much that is practically a cliche. But did you know that we don't always use our powers for good? Apparently we can be quite evil and deceitful as well.

I discovered this last week when I RUINED my daughter's day with my mere presence and was deemed untrustworthy by my son. It was a banner evening for mom to be sure.

It all began so innocently (as it always does). The kids had gotten off the bus, snacks had been eaten, school worked finished, even dinner consumed with few feathers ruffled.

We all got to swimming lessons, the kids took part in said lessons and were even able to enjoy a bit of the hot tub after to warm up. But see, there - there is where we got greedy. After the kids didn't listen to dad when they were told to get out of the hot tub and DID NOT, scolding, protesting and whimpering occurred all the way to the locker rooms.

My oldest then proceeded to yell at me that I WAS NOT to take her clothes out of the bag and give them to her to put on. However, I already HAD taken them out I did not see the need to put them back just so she could talk them out again. It made perfect sense to me a 35-year-old but to a seven-year-old this was the most illogical thing I could have said (right up there with "before you get another toy out, why don't you put this one away first").

And here comes the battle of wills. She is refusing to put her clothes on until I put them back in the bag so she and can them out and I am refusing to put them back in the bag because ... it doesn't matter why because I AM THE MOM, DAMNIT!

Yelling ensues - by her not me. I have decided to not engage her and just wait for her to calm down. Maybe she will even apologize .... If I were holding my breath I would have passed out a LONG time ago!

More nastiness on her part all the way to car (including her running away from me and then me making her hold my hand until she got in the car. Hey, I'm not above humiliation).

On the drive home, me fuming in the front seat, she sniffling in the back (and the younger two brown-nosing like crazy in the seats between), my husband tries to calmly find the source of this horrible behavior. Surely mom taking you clothes out of a bag is not worth all this?

After a bit of coaxing she says is "I was having the best day until I got home and mom ruined it."

What had I done? I racked my brain. I hadn't been upset with her, demanded anything of her, I barely even talked to her when she got off the bus since I learned (the heard way) that she doesn't like to talk about her day when she gets home from school. I ruined her day?

Sticks and stones right? She's only seven, she doesn't really know what she's saying. Well, moms may be superheros, but we are also humans and that sentence felt like a punch in the gut. Apparently all that superhero-ness was not enough to cover up the evilness that was my mere presence in my own home.

Along with ruining lives by simply being ourselves, "superhero moms" along show their evil side by being deceitful and deliberately trying to get their kids in trouble.

After we got home from swimming lessons I decided to turn my attention and energy to my two younger children - you know the ones who actually LIKE me. After my son was in bed I heard him crying and carrying on in his room. I went in to investigate. (A little pretext: the next day was Halloween and his class was dressing up as their favorite storybook characters.) He was going as Curious George. All of that was fine except for one thing. His costume had a hood with Curious George's face on it and he was told that he could not wear it at school.

Now, I knew he could. I had talked to his teacher about the costume and everything was fine. I think he was confused with the hood he was wearing and masks - which were not allowed to be worn. I tried to explain the difference to him. He did not agree with me. I tried to explain that without the hood no one would know he was Curious George, He still protested. I told him that I talked to his teacher and she said it was ok to wear. He still was CERTAIN that he could not wear it. I finally told him "yes, you can wear it. Don't you trust me?"

"No, I don't" he said.

No? What the what? No? Why would he think I would lie to him? I mean sure, we've all lied to our kids (McDonald's is closed, I don't know why the lights are on; the cute little elf reports back to Santa EVERY night, you better be good; I have no idea where the rest of your Halloween candy went) but a deliberate lie that he knows would get him in trouble? I wouldn't do that.

Must be the evilness creeping out again.

Shocking as it may be, I was right about the costume. My husband was at the Halloween parade the school had and has photographic evidence. The punk even smiled and waved as the picture was taken - the little stinker ...

After all that drama do you think he came home and said "you were right mom, I could wear my costume." Noooo .....

I guess being a superhero (with a evil side) is a pretty thankless job.

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Three's a crowd

I have three children. I have three adorable children age seven, five and three. I have three sweet, funny, beautiful children age seven, five and three who get along with each other – sometimes.

To state the obvious, three is an odd number. So it stands to reason that much of the time someone is going to be left out. There have been times, however, – large chunks of time even – 30 minutes, an hour, even several hours, when they have all gotten along, and gotten along well. Usually it involves an elaborate idea thought up by the oldest and the younger two are ordered around. Catch all that on a good day and the giggling and laughing may go on long enough for me to fold a couple loads of laundry or *gasp* read a book in peace.  More often than not, however, when the third child gets added to the mix, someone gets unhappy.

Interestingly enough, it does not seem to matter which two kids are paired up to begin with. Naturally it would be assumed that the two girls would gang up and exclude the lone boy, but sometimes the younger two (separated by a mere 19 months) like to keep out the big bad older sister and then other times my son wants to be a “big kid” so he and his older sister exclude the youngest. It seems any combination of two of my kids can get along swimmingly. Add the third and chaos likely ensues.

Two very clear examples come to mind – both a which have happened in a five-day span.  My son recently turned five and for his birthday he got a “big kid” bike with training wheels. My oldest has a similar bike (sans training wheels) and they decided that anyone who did not have a bike like theirs was a baby – which of course included their little sister who is still riding a tricycle. Never mind that my son has been riding a bike just like his three-year-old sister’s the day before, now he was a big kid like his big sister and could not stoop to playing with “babies.” Needless to say there were many tears shed by my youngest.

Then just days later – and the bike incident a distant memory – the younger two were enjoying the beautiful weather playing outside in the leaves while their older sister was inside doing her homework. For almost an hour I watched them run around the yard, ride their bikes and have what looked to be deep intellectual conversations where I no doubt believe they were solving the world’s problems. Then the oldest finished her homework, looked around and saw only boring old Mom, and decided she too would go outside and play.

Now, you many not believe me (and I agree that I do tend to exaggerate sometimes for effect), but I SWEAR, not two minutes had passed from the time my oldest shut the back door to go out and play when my son came inside crying. In those tiny 120 seconds the oldest had managed to undo all the goodwill between her younger siblings and had formed an alliance with her sister against her brother. 

“They won’t play with me,” he wailed. The proceeded to tell me in detail all the mean things his sisters were doing to him. He could have been exaggerating a bit too, but I really don’t know where he would get that from!

It all can happen that fast. One minute happy as clams, the next they are using physical violence against each other.  The teen years ought to be real fun …  

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Lessons learned the hard way ... the VERY hard way ...

Patience. It is something I like to think I have, but really have very little. When it comes to my kids it can go away VERY quickly.  When I lose my patience, I tend to be a yeller. Not something I am proud of, but I admit and I am yelling mom.

Plus I have two girls who like to test the little patience that I have very VERY often. This morning was one example. My youngest daughter is four and has a lot of difficulty making decisions. I try to give her only two choices but even then it takes her forever to make up her mind. This morning was no exception as she could not decide between the two shirts I gave her to choose from, the two headbands and then the two choices of footwear.

We were getting ready to leave for preschool and I told her to put on either her tennis shoes or her cowgirl boots. She hemmed and hawed for five minutes and still was without something on her feet. I told her I was going to the gas station and could take her to school as well, but she needed to get something on her feet – some fit throwing and yelling ensued (by her, not me). I removed myself from the meltdown and went into the garage to take care of some recycling and put my purse in the car. When I turned around she was standing on the steps with her boots in her hand. I figured that meant she chose her boots and needed help putting them on.

Nope. 

Instead she started freaking out again saying she didn't want to wear them. With as much calmness as I could muster I told her that if she chose NOT to wear the boots I was going to pick out her shoes. So, did she want to wear the boots or not? No, she said. Then as soon as I started walking in the house to get her some shoes she started yelling and screaming, “No, no, I do want to wear them, I do want to wear them!”

Now I could have stopped turned around and given her the boots to wear. But I have been down this road before. Many, MANY times. It never ends well. If I were to give her the boots she would then say she DIDN’T want them and we would go back and forth and then I would start yelling and there would be tears (probably from both of us).

So I stuck to my guns, grabbed her tennis shoes and struggled to get them on her feet as she literally kicked and screamed at me. Then, I picked her up and she continued to kick and scream and buckled her in her car seat. (This is very difficult to do with a kicking and screaming four-year-old.)

We started backing out of the garage and she (still screaming) began kicking the back of my seat. As calm as I could be I asked her stop. She continued I began counting her and told her if I got to three I was turning around and going home. I counted to one before the car was fully out of the garage. By the time we reached the end of the driveway I was at two. Then at the stop sign at the end of our street she kicked it again.

I knew I had a choice, I could turn the corner drive her to school screaming and carrying on and be to school on time. Or I teach her a lesson.

So I put the car in reverse and pulled into our driveway. In a calm clear tone I told her we were not going anywhere until her voice sounded like my voice and she said she was sorry. 

Then the bargaining happened. She cried and yelled that she would apologize and calm down while I was driving. Nope, not falling for it. I waited. She kicked the back of my chair again. I opened the garage door. More tears and yelling. She kicked, I pulled into the garage. More tears and yelling.

“When your voice can sound like my voice and you tell me you are sorry, we can go,” I calmly said again. She yelled and kicked. I turned off the car and continued my mantra. And she yelled and kicked. I turned off the car. She continued her routine. So did I.

I opened my door. Still she protested. I opened HER door. She yelled and kicked some more. I unbuckled her car seat. She freaked, BUT she didn’t kick.

I silently stood outside her door as she sniffled for a solid five minutes. It was the longest minutes of my life. I wanted to jump up and down yelling – “just say you’re sorry so I can take you to school. Don’t you know how easy this can be fixed? Just say you are sorry!!” But I calmly stood there and said nothing. I didn’t even look at her.

“Mommy, I want to give you a hug,” she said.

Whoa. Now what?? I had held my ground this long, did she think a hug was going to end this stand-off? It was well-played on her part I give her that, but I decided I wasn't giving in, mean as that may sound.

“I will give you a hug when you say you are sorry,” I told her. I waited for another two minutes. Then in a voice just above a whisper I heard it – “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Hallelujah!!

I wanted to jump up and down and jabber on about how it is important to say you’re sorry and all that but I decided to just be calm and concise. “Thank you.” Then I gave her hug. (I may be mean, but I’m not a monster.)

I buckled her in, closed her door, got in the car and we drove to preschool. It was a quiet ride, but there were no tears, no kicking and we walked in to her school hand in hand. We were 10 minutes late, but that’s ok. Hopefully the lesson I taught her was just as important as whatever she missed in those 10 minutes.

Now I am exhausted … And I need an Oreo – or 12 …

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New study finds we need studies to validate ourselves

I read an article a couple days ago that said it is scientifically proven that writing is good for you. I really don't know why we needed a study to confirm that fact. Of course writing is good for you. It's not like writing is a bad habit or something like smoking or eating too many doughnuts. (Which of course begs the question - how many is too many?)

It's kind of a no brainer that writing is good for you. It's a skill they teach first graders. It's something you will always have to use throughout your life. Whether you are jotting a little note in a birthday card, writing the next great American novel or throwing words out into the interweb hoping someone might read them and therefore validate yourself as a person, we all have reasons to write.

The article went on to say that people who write frequently and more specifically people who write about themselves and their feelings frequently (i.e. through journaling or a self satisfying blog, cough, cough) are able to work through their problems more quickly because they force themselves to "take a step back and evaluate their lives." (Or, in my case, try to put the most humorous spin on it.)

It makes me think of a line from one of my favorite rom-coms "French Kiss" (before Meg Ryan's face began looking cartoon-ish.) She and Kevin Klein are walking through a city in France and she is saying that he needs to talk about his feelings. She says "a healthy person is someone who expresses what they are feeling inside. Express, not repress." To which Kevin Klein's character Luc replies "In that case, you must be one of the healthiest people in the world."

Not only does writing help you mentally, it can help your physical health, too. The study stated that writing can help patients heal more quickly because it helps them make sense of events and reduce distress. It even said that blogging may trigger dopamine releases similar to the effect of running. Cool, huh? So I don't know what did more for my health today - writing this blog or going on my jog this morning. (I'd say run, but at my pace it was really more of a jog.)

Now when I don't feeling like working up a sweat (or getting out of my pajamas), I'll just waddle over the the computer and blog away. Then I'll have gotten my exercise in for the day. Or at least improved my mental and physical being a bit. And trainers everywhere give a giant eye roll. Like we needed another excuse to not exercise!

So there, I have now successfully worked my mind and body, just by sitting here on my tukus typing away, And my fingers didn't even cramp!

Now if only a study would get released that said reading someones blog was the equivalent to 100 sit-ups then I could say you got just as much out of this blog post as I did ...

Maybe it'll be only 10 sit-ups, but still, it's better than nothing!

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Back to school blues?

When you are a stay-at-home mom (or whatever PC term is being used these days) there really is no such thing as summer vacation. All the days just seem to melt together.

So when my oldest started school a few years ago I began to see what is was like to have a few hours of one less kid in the house. Last year I got to see that magic times two when my son started preschool. And this year, well, this year all three of my adorable, sweet, very loud children will be attending school.

The little one will only be gone a few hours each morning, but still it is a couple hours all to myself. I might even be able to have a coherent thought, or finish a cup of coffee while it’s still hot. But let’s not get greedy, Sarah.

I envision trips to the grocery store where I don’t have to tell a child to put something down or come back here (at least not without getting some strange looks). I might actually get my hair cut – something I have only gotten around to doing once since we moved here a year ago (that one I’ll take the heat on, but still it will be nice). I even might get to write an entire article for this publication start to finish without being interrupted a dozen times.

So while many parents may dread the start of the school year and their kids going back to school – I must admit I won’t. I love my kids I really do, but after four months of the yelling and fighting and complaining and whining I won’t shed too many tears when they skip off to their classrooms. Luckily there has been plenty of smiling and hugs and laughter as well.

Plus I am happy to say they are all completely ready to go. My soon-to-be second grader has been asking when school was going to start since the end of July. My son is excited to be going the “big kid” school for pre-K and my youngest was so excited to start preschool that it was her main motivation to become potty trained. (Thank you Ms. Jen! We are now diaper free for the first time in seven and a half years!)

I know I should be sad and I will admit that there is a small part of me that is. No more babies at home. No more snuggling on the couch in our pajamas on a Tuesday or spontaneous stops at the bakery for a doughnut on a Thursday.  I know I will miss the tiny little hand grabbing mine as we walk across the parking lot.

But I know I am lucky that I DID get all that time with them and while I may hold back a tear as my older kids climb on that big yellow school bus and my youngest hangs her new backpack on her hook for the very first time, I realize they are growing up and this is just the next step in our lives.

That brings me to another realization – Mama needs a job!

I'd like to say I've been on vacation, but ...

So HOW many weeks has it been since I posted last? Two? Three? Did you even notice?

Well, it IS summer, so schedules have been off, we've been busy and ... aww, forget it, even I'M not buying that.

Truth is I've been lazy., Yup, I said it lazy. I'm not ashamed. (Well OK, I'm a little ashamed.) It's true though. I'd like to say I've been SO swamped with all the fun summer activities we've been scampering off to that I simply have not had time to sit down and blog (you can use blog as a verb right?). But no, I've been piddling around online watch YouTube clips, reading blogs and of course spending WAY to much time on Facebook.



Mother of the Year award - right here!

My kids have had loads to time to play outside and use their imaginations because I am not hauling them hither and yon in an effort to entertain them. Bikes and balls and sidewalk chalk are sufficient toys for a seven, four and three-year-old. (They seem to have a HUGE fascination with our watering cans, too.)

We have not just been cooped up at home though. Just now I asked my kids if they wanted to go to the park today or tomorrow. The girls picked today and of course the boy picked tomorrow. He started to whine about it then said "I'll be upset unless you let me sit in the back."

Did he just threaten me? You get an "A" for effort in manipulation, but it won't work on me. Scream a throw a fit it you must. I'm sure if it doesn't come from you it will from one of your sisters at SOME point today. It always does ...

I love 'em, but mercy me are they LOUD! And stubborn! And smart-mouthed. Annnnnnnd , they got all that from me, so I have no one to blame but myself. (See why I turn to YouTube? I NEED that hamster smiling through the wood chips so I don't lose my mind.)

The count down to school begins and thankfully all my kids are as excited about the first day as I am (I'm sure they are sick of ME too!). This year all my kiddos will be in school at least part time which will be strange but also good.

I'd like to say that means I'll be writing most posts for your amusement and criticism. I'd like to say that, but with all this free time I might start playing this Candy Crush Saga everyone keeps inviting me to play ...

Maybe I'll talk to you again around Halloween ...

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At least they are dressed right?

Should I feel bad that it is 11:30 in the morning and my girls are still in their pajamas? It is summer vacation after all and they are playing inside and everything. (I wouldn't knowingly let the kids play outside in their pjs.)

Plus they are all playing nicely in the basement together which let me tell you is RARE. So why upset things? Why rock the boat? Why upset the apple cart?

Why risk getting screamed at?

Because peace harmony and most of all quiet are very precious in this house and I would have to be some kind of masochist to knowing go into the lion's den and risk the wrath that is ...

You probably think that my kids are the worse human beings on the planet. That or I have extremely low tolerance for kid behavior. OK, I may be exaggerating a bit, but this summer has been eye opening for me.

And now I illustrate: I just brought all the kids up to eat lunch and a fight has broken off as to who the top half and who got the bottom half OF A BANANA! I am not joking either I just had to fib to my youngest and tell her she also go the top half  of the banana - even though it really went to my son. (Never mind that I have explained to them time and again that the top half and the bottom have LOOK EXACTLY THE SAME!)

Ahh summer ... I'm not really looking forward to school starting, but I'm not necessarily dreading it either ...

I know it's been awhile, but if you still like what I have to say (brief as it is today) click the Top Mommy Logo at the top and vote for me. Next time I write more - a bit distracted today ...
 

Drum roll please ...

I have been hesitant to write this post for awhile - didn't want to jinx myself.

But it has been almost three weeks now, so I think we are in the clear.

Drum roll please ......

I am proud to announce that the Gray family is officially ..... DIAPER FREE!!!!















(Thought I was gonna say something else for a second there didn't ya? Probably scared a couple of you - including my husband!)

Hey, being diaper free is no small thing. We have been buying and changing (and buying and changing) diapers and pull-ups for seven and a half years now. That's a long time. Sometimes I thought we were never going to get there. Many times in fact. While I was assured by every parent with older kids I met that "it will happen," and "they won't go to college wearing diapers," I wasn't so sure. There were brief moments of shear frustration that I thought MY child would be the first college freshman in Dora Pull-ups (provided they made some in her size).

I will freely admit that I am a bad potty-training parent. There are some parents I know (or have been told about) that are great at it. They can train their child like in 10 minutes or a half a day or something really obnoxious like that. Some parents who take little potty chairs wherever they go for their child. Some parents who let their child run around the house naked and go whenever wherever to figure out when and where to properly go.

I was not one of those parents. I am not condemning those parents - if those methods work for you that's great. I was not up for that. I was too forgetful/lazy/grossed out to do that. I really hate cleaning up potty messes so the idea of letting my child make them ON PURPOSE instead of accidentally was not appealing.

Plus I'd get frustrated and give up easily. I would try with my kid for a few days, but if they were being exceptionally stubborn (like sitting on the potty for 20 minutes with no result only to have them go on the floor five seconds after they stood up) I would end up putting them back in a diaper by the end of day two. I was just an inconsistent frustrated potty trainer. It's really a wonder they became potty-trained at all.

It didn't help that I have three extremely strong-will children either. (Cough, cough, I have no idea where they go THAT from cough, cough). The candy bribes didn't work, the "potty prizes" didn't work, even the threat of not being able to go to preschool (which my youngest wanted more than anything) was not enough to get her to go. She was gonna go when she was good and ready damnit and no parent, grandparent, teacher or pediatrician (hey, I'm not ashamed, I was grasping at straws here) was going to push her before she was ready.

But now we've cleared that hurdle. For days my husband and I would look at each other and ask "are we over the hump? Is she really potty-trained now?" We kept expecting a back slide, but so far none have come. I do expect an accident or two - that's just natural, but I think I can let out the deep breath I have been holding in for the past few weeks (and that is not just from being at the receiving end of a messy diaper).

So, no more diaper bags to pack. No more calculating the number of diapers I might need on any given outing based on duration away from the house (I should only need three, so I'll take six). No more panic when I realize I only have two wipes left and my kid is making that "funny face" under the slide at the playground.

Now it is replaced with the panic of "can we get to the bathroom in time?"  And thoughts like "She should only need two pairs of underwear for this trip - I'll pack six. Can she hold it until the rest stop or do we need to pull off on the freeway?"  

But I will take those worries over a messy diaper any day.

Sorry for all the potty talk, but if you wouldn't mind clicking on the Top Mommy Logo at the top and voting for me I promise my next post will be completely void of the word "potty." Thanks!

Seven lessons I learned the hard way - but at least I learned them ... I think ...

Do you even wish you could go back to your younger self, take a firm grasp of your shoulders and just shake the living daylights out of your pipsqueak of a self?

Well, I do.

I recently turned 35. While I know that still may seem young to some people I do not consider myself to be young anymore. Sure, sure, "young at heart" and all those silly little phrases we tell ourselves to trick our minds into thinking we are still 22 instead of 33 (or in my case 35, like I said).

Nope, I am no longer a kid and I'm OK with that. Everything is not perfect and rosy by any means, but my life and more importantly my SELF is happy and exactly where I want to be.

(For instance, I am staring at a Diet Coke right now trying to figure out if I should drink it or not. It will be tasty yes, but I will also feel bloated and disgusting for the rest of the day. Something I would NEVER have had to think about when I was 22. Is it worth it? Probably not ... Back in the fridge you go, tasty friend.)

So, being able to drink carbonated beverages aside, I really don't have much desire to go back to my youth - except maybe to try to knock a little sense into my 22-year-old mind. I don't know it all now and I most certainly didn't know it all then. I learned a few these lessons the hard way (OK, ALL of them) ... and I am continuing to learn them ...

• Be careful with "always" and "never." They are easy words to say and seem to float off the tongue in the heat of anger or fear. I have learned that few things are absolute in this world. This is especially true of relationships. As with just about everything else, think before you speak. In that same vein, be careful with the word hate. Hate is a very powerful word - it should be used sparingly, if ever. "I hate peas" is not the right use for that word. You may not care for peas, you may not like peas, but when you say "I hate peas" (especially as as adult) it gives off a juvenile tone. (Can you tell I don't like peas?) Words are very powerful - very powerful - and you can't easily erase the damage you leave with a slip of the tongue.

• Doing what is right is not always easy or popular. This was a tough one for me to learn and I credit my husband with teaching me that lesson. As a people pleaser by nature, I usually went along with the crowd whether I wanted to or not. Then about three years into our marriage, my husband was put in a very difficult position. Without getting specific about the incident, it was large ethical and moral error. While many others were choosing to overlooking this error (for a variety of reasons), my amazing husband knew what had happened was wrong and went against his values, so he chose to distance himself from the situation. It did not make him popular. It did make him admirable. While I will admit this lesson is still something I struggle with, I am lucky that I have a partner that can help steer me toward the right path.

• Honesty really is the best policy. Being honest is hard, because lying or skirting the truth can be so easy. But like the boy who cried wolf, once you are caught in a lie it can be difficult to ever get that trust back. So much of who we are is based on how we are perceived and if we are not trusted or believed what does that leave us?

• Know your audience before making sweeping statements or generalizations. This goes along with the not saying always or never. You never know who you are in the room with and I have more than once put my foot in my mouth by saying some bone-headed thing, which could have easily been worded differently (and without the taste of shoe leather).

• Don't be afraid to ask for help. When I was young, I used to think that I should be able to do anything and should automatically know everything. I thought that asking for help or not knowing something made me look vulnerable or silly or stupid. I have learned over the years that people want to help - especially those who care about you. No one is expected to know everything.  Not knowing something is not a sign of weakness - and it takes strength to admit that.

• You are an adult now - act like one. Sometimes things don't go our way. Sometimes our feelings get hurt. Sometimes we get embarrassed. That doesn't mean we have pout, take our toys and go home. Put on your big girl panties and face it. It can be uncomfortable, yes, but that is part of being a "grown-up." Unfortunately there are a lot of "grown-ups" out there who don't act their age and behave like toddlers when their boat is rocked. That doesn't mean you have to. The silent treatment never solved any problems. Neither did being passive aggressive. (Shocking, I know!) Let's just say what we need to say, shall we? Admit when we are wrong, own up to our mistakes and swallow our pride. It's not easy or fun, but it will make us better people and our relationships stronger.

• Appreciate the time you are in now because you are never going to get it back. I was always one for looking forward to the next thing. "I can't wait graduate high school ... "  "I can't wait to graduate college ..." "I can't wait to get a job ... " (what was I thinking there) "I can't wait to get married ..." "I can't wait to have kids ..." While I am glad all those things happened in my life, I know now that getting there was half the fun and I think I missed out on some of that fun because I couldn't wait to get there (if that makes any sense). I have learned to enjoy the moment I am in now. I know there are many more great things to come (God willing), and I don't need to be in a rush to get there. Small moments can be just as important and big moments if you just take the time to appreciate them.

While I would love to say that I have learned all these lessons and grown and blossomed from them, I must admit I am still a work in progress (see honesty - so I'm getting there). I know I should, but life, emotions, and the difficulty of change have tripped me up more than once. I'm working on it and while I'd like to say I am doing it to become the best version of myself, I think I am mostly doing it for my kids. So maybe when they are adults they won't look back to their younger selves and want to shake themselves by the shoulders. At least not about these seven things.

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Sure I can blather on and on ... but can I write?

Writer's block can motivate you to some really not-so-fun tasks.

Like cleaning your toilet. Or washing the floors. Or cleaning your seven-year-old's desk.

Yes, I have done all those things and more today in my advanced stage of writers block.

But you are writing this blog, you say. So you can't really have writers block.

OK, maybe technically you are right (smarty pants) but see, this wasn't the writing for which I am blocked. The writing for which I am blocked is for a magazine I freelance for. (A wonderful publication called Simply Hers - you should check it out sometime at simplyhers.net.)

To be truthful, I'm not super excited about the topic. Plus the information has been kind of a pain in the butt to gather. And to top it off, I don't have my first line yet. Silly as it may be, I can't write until I have my first sentence hammered out. Sure I try, but it never works. Once I have that first line - it all seems to flow from there. Any other writers (or wanna-be writers like me) have a silly quirk like that?

So here, I sit, typing away, saying virtually nothing, do anything BUT writing that bleepin' story. I cleaned out the kids' humidifiers, which I am ashamed to say have been sitting in their rooms for WEEKS needing to be cleaned and put away. I went to town on the grout in the shower - which I really don't like cleaning (especially when you live in a house with hard water). I even cleaned the kitchen sink for Pete's sake (that poor Pete, he never get a break). I don't mean I washed the dishes in the sink, I mean I literally cleaned the sink. Got out the baking soda and scrubbed it down. I also dusted and vacuumed the entire house - including the basement. Now I'm tired AND have writer's block.

I guess I am proud that I didn't sit on the couch watching TV instead. Believe me I wanted to, but there was nothing good on. I don't care too much about Kim Kardashian or the rest of her famous-for-nothing family, I have been off Days of Our Lives for well over a year now and cooking shows just make me hungry. (By the way, did you know that when you spell check Kardashian you get suggestions for cardigan, dashing and Cartesian?) I am however currently on the time suck that is Pintrest looking at ways you can clean your jewelry at home.

Looks like my story isn't getting done today - maybe after the kids go to bed. Maybe after I have had a glass of wine (or two). Gotta get those creative juices flowing somehow.

Oh well, I usually work well under deadline.

It would really help get my creative juices flowing if you click on the Top Mommy Logo at the top and vote for me. You're the best!

You're never fully dressed without a smile - even a cheesy one

I have beautiful children. I really do. I also have photogenic children. I know I am probably a bit biased on both of these statements, but most mothers are, and most mothers are absolutely right that their children are both beautiful and extremely photogenic.

Well, I will admit my kids are photogenic, until, of course, you point a camera at them – more specifically when that lens is one of a professional photographer. Then they just look like they are in pain.

For the first time this year, my son had his picture taken at school. On “picture day” we talked about how he would smile (happy, relaxed), I had him practice how he was going to smile and as we waited in line for the photographer I had him practice a couple more times. He wasn't sad or nervous when he went up on the little platform, he jumped right up there. Then the photographer had him say cheese and this half smile/half grimace came over his face. Click.

So yeah, he has a beautiful smile, one that can light up a room, but for the remainder of this year the 8x10 that is hanging in our living room will show him looking like he's in distress.

That’s how it goes I guess. I am sure many parents out there have similar stories of smiles gone bad.  They do grow out of it as I have recently found out from my oldest.  They then however, start into a new phase. The I-want-to-make-a-goofy-face-in-every-picture-I’m-in phase. That or put bunny ears on their brother or sister.

While the oldest is making faces and the boy is looking like he is smiling through pain, the youngest doesn't want to be photographed at all. I have several pictures of her literally escaping the picture and others where she won’t even look at the camera. When I do get her look at the camera I end up getting one of those super cheesy grins, with all the teeth showing and eyes squeezed shut.

Better than nothing I guess. It’s still cute. Pictures of all of my children looking at the camera and smiling nicely are few and far between these days.

I would like to get some three year pictures taken of my youngest (since she turned three almost a month ago), but I must admit I'm hesitant. I have taken her to one of those places where they take a million pictures of your kid and then try to sell you 15 different poses in various sizes, plus a calendar, cards and of course the CD with every one of the million pictures they took of your adorable tot. All for the low, low price of … well let’s just say lots more money than I want to pay. I don’t need 200 pictures of my child. I love her, but come on that’s just getting obnoxious.

The only upside of those places for me, is that when it comes around the viewing the million and half pictures they took of my little darling, only about two are really any good. The photographers don’t even pressure me into the CD – then know the number of duds that are in there.

So we’ll give it a go with the new three-year-old. After all, I had three year pictures taken of the other two so I know I should.

Who knows, she may just surprise me.

Did this put a smile on your face? Even a painful one? Click on the Top Mommy Blog logo at the top and put a smile on my face. Thank you!

Like the proverbial chicken who has lost its upper most extremity

OK, hold on one quick sec. - I have to catch my breath ...

gasp, gasp, wheeze ...



There, that's better!

I feel like I have been running around like a crazy person these last couple of weeks! SO MUCH  STUFF TO DO. I feel like I am constantly behind. Right now for example I have grocery bags all around my feet needing to be put away and my youngest plopped in front of the TV (awesome parenting right there) so I can write this. Because I WANT to right this. I really like doing this, but it just feels like there has not been enough time to DO it. (Or, my fingers don't work, like yesterday. What was up with that? They still aren't working great today, but I will run spell check and get through it.)

Is it just me, or is May just a super crazy month? Every year it seems like it gets more and more filled with activities, practices, events etc., until BAM it's June. I mean what is it today - May 21? Wait, my phone says May 22. 22? Yikes - wasn't it yesterday May 7 and my youngest turned three? This weekend is Memorial Day right? Yup, good ... should be able to relax once we reach our final destinations. (Sounds ominous right? Ha, I'll just let you all wonder ...)

Yesterday I actually had a few minutes to decompress, so I went outside to sit and read (wish I could get into the book I am reading - just not hooking me yet). I had not been outside five minutes when my son came out.

"Mommy, you want to play catch with me?"

Whimper. I had just sat down!

"In a few minutes, buddy. Mommy wants to sit a bit."

"OK, I'll just play catch by myself."

AHHH - major guilt bomb!

Needless to say I got off my duff right then and there and played catch with my son. Busy or not, tired or not, I HAVE to do it. It's so important. I may be busy, but I can never be THAT busy.

Now I know some of you are saying, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, you silly, silly lady. You don't know what busy is! If you took a look at MY life you would faint and sheer magnitude of things I must do in a day. And you don't see me complaining. And you are right, you are not complaining. But you ARE kind of rubbing it it my face how much more awesome you are than me and that is obnoxious which is complaining's loud cousin.

Is this busyness just my life now? As the kids get older and they are involved in more things (arguably things I sign them up for) will my life just stay this hectic or become more so? I already know the answer to the question so you don't have to tell me.

It's OK, I just need to come to terms with it and stop thinking it will slow back down eventually.

I mean it will eventually - when they are all in college ...

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Neither of my hands know what they are doing

I was going to post today, but my fingers and the keyboard do not seem to be compatible ...




(You don't want to know how many times I made errors in this sentence.)

More tomorrow - probably ... hopefully ...if my fingers cooperate ...

If I promise to write tomorrow will you click on the Top Mommy Blog logo and vote for me right now? Great! Thanks! Tomorrow - I promise!

If my kid sneezes in Albuquerque, I'll hear it

For the past two and a half weeks my husband has been fighting a cough. Since neither of us were getting much sleep because of it, the last several nights he has been taking some medicine to help. And by medicine I mean the drug that puts you slightly above comatose state.

It has been working fairly well, most nights which poses another problem - waking up. But not just him, me too. Although I have not been taking any medicine to sleep I still need my drugged up hubby to wake me up. Because I can not seem to wake up to the alarm clock.

I won't try to impress you or annoy you with the hour in which I wake up in the morning. I am sure it may cause some of you to roll your eyes. Suffice to say it's early for me but it also allows me to get some stuff done before kids wake up - namely exercise.

The other morning my plans were thwarted however because by the time I actually woke up - well when my husband woke me up - the alarm had been going off for 35 minutes.

How does that happen? How could I not have heard the radio blaring for more than a half hour? I guess I was tired.

My family used to joke growing up that I could sleep through World War III, and it some cases they would be right. I can sleep through thunderstorms and cars zooming by. I used to be able to sleep through ANYTHING, and it still holds true with all but one thing - kid noises.

Anything kind of noise my little munchkins make in the night - I hear it. I hear coughs, sneezes, cries, whimpers - you name it. I am sure this is some sort of biological thing that a moms get after having a kid. It makes perfect sense. They cry so much when they are little you become like Pavlov's Dog - any time you hear their cry you jump into action. Whether it's 9 a.m., 3 p.m. or 2 a.m.

Many moms can pick their child's cry out of a line-up.

It's a double-edged sword, this being able to hear your child in the middle of the night. It is good to be able to help them when they are sick (and sometimes avoid messy clean-ups, if you know what I mean), but it also can seriously mess with your ability to sleep.

My son is fighting a cough as well and the other night he coughed and coughed all night - even with medicine in him. And I woke up with every attack. There was nothing really I could do for him. He never really woke up either, just coughing in his dreams. But I did. I even went in his room, woke him up and gave him something to drink to see if that would help him stop coughing (and me to sleep). It didn't. How is it I can hear my four-year-old coughing in the next room at 3:30 a.m. but I can't hear Katy Perry blaring next to my head?

What I find the most humorous my super strength "mom ears" is that my husband does not have it. He CAN sleep through the kids coughing and sneezing etc. What he can't sleep through is the alarm clock, (except when he takes NyQuil).

I guess it's a good thing we found each other.

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I should write a clever title here - but instead I think I'll look at Pintrest ...

While I should be cleaning the bathroom right now (a task I loathe) instead I am procrastinating and writing a post - and in the process giving you something to read and helping you procrastinate from whatever task you don't want to do.

You're welcome.

Ah procrastination ... you lovely evil little minion ...

You are my Achilles heel and my comfy elastic pants I slip into an the end of a long day.

You force me to get things done much quicker than I ever realized I could and 75 percent of the time you help me to produce my best work. (The other 25 percent of the time? Well, we won't talk about that - the work is finished and isn't that an accomplishment in itself?)

Because there are other important things that need to be done. That repeat of Gilmore Girls isn't just going to watch itself, that You Tube video clip from last night's Daily Show looks really important and it's Throwback Thursday so I HAVE to search all my old photos to find one to post on Facebook. Because how else is everyone going to see me in my GIGANTIC purple glasses, huh? This is important stuff I am doing here.

Plus I just really really really don't want to clean the bathroom. I would pretty much rather do anything else.

I predict the house will be vacuumed and dusted before I tackle the bathroom. I'm sure there will be multiple logins to Facebook, email checks and other various Internet searches in there too ...

I'm am even procrastinating ending this post so I don't have to get off my duff and do anything at all. I don't really have anything else to say but I really don't want to do any work right now so I am just going to keep typing and typing. How are all of you doing? Enjoying your day so far? Sleep well last night? I stayed up too late watching the Tigers win but they did so that's good ...

Well I could keep going on and on and on (and on and on) but a cute little three-year-old just requested (well demanded first) a snack and as any parent know procrastination and three-year-olds don't mix ...

At least it keeps me from cleaning the bathroom ...

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Cleveland rocks!* (unless you are staying at the Radisson)

OK, I'm still tired. But I'm not sick - I promise. Just whiny.

Feeling a bit more rested now after spending a weekend away with just the hubs. Yes, friends, my main man and I got to finally celebrate our 10th anniversary (which was last October) and my husband upcoming big-numbered birthday (I won't say which one) with a weekend away.

And we chose Cleveland. Well actually I chose Cleveland. When I mentioned it to Jeff he wrinkled his nose and said "Cleveland?" (much like many of you are doing right now). I actually said "Let's get excited about Cleveland" and he told me I was the first person ever to say that. In fact about half of the reactions to our Cleveland trip were "Cleveland? Really?" Even our emergency room doctor at the Cleveland Clinic wondered why we were vacationing in his city. But I'm getting ahead of myself ...

Yes, Cleveland. Partially because of it's close proximity to where we live (only a three hour drive) so we could easily get there and back in one weekend. Partially because we could do it on the cheap and partially because there are actually a number of things you can do in Cleveland.

The trip started rather uneventfully. Except I ended up with the second half of the driving shift which had me driving into Cleveland. I'm not a big fan of driving into larger cities that I am unfamiliar with (not sure that anyone is) but it seems most times I am doing it, there is construction and it is raining. Then we ended up walking farther than we should have because Sarah is not so great with the parallel park.

Highlights of the trip included:

- The Cleveland Museum of Art
- Being passed by dozens of bicyclists yelling "Happy Friday!"
- Grossly under dressed for a mediocre meal in Little Italy
- Impromptu (and unwelcome) visit to the Cleveland Clinic for some emergency care for my hubby
- The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
- A better meal (and more appropriately dressed for it) downtown
- Learning the California valley girl vernacular is alive and well in Cleveland (I blame MTV)
- Kids these days call nuggets, nugs (or at least valley girls do)
- A visit to my husband's 'Graceland' can almost make all the pain of a rib contusion disappear

The Cleveland Museum of Art was very lovely (and free) and full of wonderful pieces of art. While I like to think of myself as sophisticated, when I walk into someplace like that I quickly realize I am not. Because some of that art I just don't get. I'm more of a smack-me-in-the-face-with-the-meaning kind of gal when it comes to art, rather than interpreting the subtle meanings. Plus all those naked paintings and sculptures turn me into a 13-year-old boy. Nope, sophisticated I think I am not ...

Lovely place though. And did I mention free?

I am sure you are all a bit curious about our trip to the hospital. Well you see, when we looked into hotels for the trip we purposefully tried to pick one that could be walking distance to restaurants and attractions. We didn't want to have to try and find parking everywhere we went. We did not realize that when we were looking at hotels we needed to check the grippiness (it's a word, kind of) of the bathtub floor. If that had been in our criteria we certainly WOULD NOT have picked the Gateway Radisson.

I don't know if the higher ups at the Radisson know about physics, but when the something is wet, and that something is a bathtub, it gets slippery. And maybe the folks at the Radisson don't use a lot of soap, but when you add soap to slippery it gets even MORE slippery. And if there is not a suitable amount of resistance on the tub floor - like a bathmat - someones feet could go one way and his body could go the other causing his rib cage to fall full force on the side of the tub.

Yeah, so that happened. And a trip to the emergency room and two and half hours later we we back at the scene of the crime with the hubs with a rib contusion. The tough guy kept going and we were at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame only a couple hours later.

(That's the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in the background

He is smiling through the pain.)

Some other points of interest:

- I very much enjoy Sleep Number beds and hope some day to own one

- The Goggle Maps lady is not very familiar with Cleveland. We took more indirect routes to get places than direct ones, including down a back alley that I'm pretty sure was not a really street.

- There is something very special and unique about the City of Cleveland. Something that I have not encountered in any other city I have been to. No matter what direction you walk in - the wind will be in your face. It's quite amazing.

The highlight of the trip however would have to be Sunday. As we drove out of downtown and into the outskirts we could tell that this was not the part of Cleveland everyone brags about, but then we saw it - like a glowing beacon at the end of the street. My husbands face lit up and as we walked closer he slowing regressed into a 12-year-old. You couldn't wipe that smile off his face (rib contusion and all). We were at the house from A Christmas Story.

This is my husband Graceland. 

I am sorry to say that I did not see is glorious movie until I met my husband (I lived a sheltered life), but now that I have I love it. So this place was as much fun for me as it was for him. (Well, maybe not as much - his level of excitement was pretty high up there.) It still was awesome though. We got to tour the house - pose by the "leg lamp," climb under the kitchen sink, hold a Red Rider BB Gun and even taste Life Bouy soap if we wanted (we didn't).

I know it was the highlight of the trip for my husband and quite possibly may have been for me too. 

Hmm, what does that say about me? Choosing Ralphie's house over priceless works of art and Micheal Jackson's sequence glove? 

Oh well, don't care. It was fun and I hope some time before another 10 years go by we can do it again. But this time we are bringing our own bath mat.

Did this post rock as much as Cleveland? If you would be so kind, please click on the Top Mommy logo at the top and vote for me!! Thanks! You rock!!

Is it nap time yet?

I. Am. Tired.

It's not just should-have-gone-to-bed-earlier tired (although I probably should have). It's not need-another-cup-of-coffee tired either (but I wouldn't say no to one). It's not even the I've-been-up-all-night-with-a-crying-baby tired. This is a different kind of tired. I am tired in my bones.



I am so tired I almost fell asleep in my car sorting coupons in the grocery store parking lot yesterday morning. I think I would have if my youngest hadn't been in the car with me whining "Moooommmmy, get me out of the car!"

I know that just about everybody is tired all the time and I that I am not unique or special in feeling this way. But these last few days of feeling uttering exhausted as made me realize one thing: I am getting old.

I will turn 35 in about three weeks and while I know that does not make me old - gotta wait until 40 for that -  I know I am not as spry as I used to be. (Wink wink to my hubby is will be turning a number I won't mention in a few weeks. Suffice to say, he will now be old!)

I'm not old, but I am getting there. The idea of staying out until after midnight - or even midnight for that matter makes me tired and requires me to drink a large amount of coffee at about 7 p.m. to actually be able to do it. I can barely stay awake enough to watch he ball drop on New Year's Eve.

I'm not sure if that makes me old or just pathetic ...

I don't have any problem with aging, I really don't. I had a lot of fun in my twenties (along with some questionable hairstyle choices) but I feel like my 30s have been the decade where I have been the most comfortable with myself. So turning 35 and then 36 and so on does not bother me or scare me or depress me. I am not a bit worried that the BIG 4-0 is just fives years away. (Although ask me that again in four years and 11 months.)

Age doesn't bother me. Being this tired does, however. Because this isn't the tired you say you are but deep down you know you really aren't. (Be honest, we all have done it.) This is just plain worn out tired, worn down to a nub tired, I-could-fall-asleep-as-soon-as-my-hiney-hits-a-chair tired.

As life gets more busy and more hectic I am sure I will only get more tired, but by then I will be so used to being this tired that I should be able to handle it. Right now, however, I can't so I am just going to whine about it.

Go with your strengths, Sarah ...

Zzzzzzzzzzzz ...

Walking a tightrope

I read an article from NPR a couple days ago about a teenager who has food allergies and what he and his family are doing to bring more awareness to the issue.

The article was fine, but the comments people wrote about the article is what irritated me.

I'm no dummy, I know people can (and do) write whatever they like about whatever they like and then hide behind their little IDs. Sometimes the things written are purely for shock value - just to get a rise out of others.

Maybe that is all this comment was. It doesn't really matter. It worked.

This insensitive idiot thought what this family was doing was outrageous and the parents were make a mountain out a mole hill. He even thought this whole food allergy rise may be just a conspiracy. Needless to say this person was immediately attacked by other commenters and called all sorts of names (rightly so). I didn't leave a comment but I was pretty ticked off after reading it.

You see, my son has food allergies. A lot of food allergies. The little guy is allergies to peanuts, tree nuts, milk, egg, soy, wheat, fish, shellfish and peas. He has an Epi-Pen with him at all times. No one else in our family has food allergies so we have no idea how he ended up with so many. So yeah, I get a little irritated when people say they think this food allergy thing is a bunch of over protective parent hooey.

I know that is difficult sometimes for people to understand food allergies - especially since it getting to be there are a lot of people with food allergies now then there were even 20 years ago. I know I can not remember any one is my school have food allergies.

We don't know why more and more kids have food allergies these days but we do know two things: they are real and they can be a matter of life and death.

So why wouldn't every parent want to do what they could to help protect the life of a student at their child's school? All the family in this article was trying to do is spread a little awareness. Education leads to understanding and understanding leads to compassion. And that is all I want. People to understand food allergies and have some compassion for my son who can not be around peanuts because if he is he may have trouble breathing or worse (and I don't want to think about the worse).

But it's not just food allergies. Any parent who has a child who needs a little something more - weather its an allergy, a mental disability, physical disability or social disability - wants their child to be included and to be safe.

We just want our kids to grow and prosper and be successful like every other parent. We are the champions for our children and we want them to be safe and sometimes we have to make a little bit more noise to make sure that happens.

But I think there is a thin line we must walk between obnoxious and passive. I know I feel that way. I want my son to be safe so I want to make sure I speak up to ensure that, but I also don't want to go into every situation waving my arms in the air screaming like a manic because there may be food there he is allergic to.

He's just like every other kid - he just has to be careful about what food he is around.

We have been very fortunate so far with a terrific preschool that is wonderful and I feel completely comfortable when I drop him off at school that he will be safe. Next year, however he moves to another school. I am not ashamed to admit that I am nervous. It's a bigger school with more kids and a cafeteria full of food he is allergic to.

Hopefully with the help of the principal, teachers and staff we will all educate his classmates on his food allergies and once everyone understands, we can all have compassion for my little guy and no one will roll their eyes or make a snaky comment when the kids can't eat peanut bitter and jelly sandwiches.

In the end it's all about a child's safety and who doesn't want their child to be safe?

Whether you agree with me or not, I sure would appreciate it if you clicked on the Top Mommy blog logo at the top and voted for me! Much thanks!

Because Minions

I woke this morning kind of grumpy. I didn't want to get out of bed.

I know many people feel the same way and, like me, after they eventually stop hitting the snooze and grumpily get out of bed, mentally calculate the number of hours until they can get back in it again.

I am not a morning person.

Even though the sun was shining (not when I got out of bed of course - a couple hours later) and even though it was going to be another "warm" day in Michigan I was irritable. (I say "warm" because although Michiganders consider 55 degrees warm, not everyone else does. We take what we can get people. It's been a long cold winter.)

But I am pulling myself out of it. You know why?

Because Minions.

For those of you who just crawled out from under the rock you have been living under for the past four years (and kudos to you for choosing THIS blog to read), a minion is a lovable, incomprehensible yellow little creature from the movie Despicable Me. I guess they really are supposed to be bad guys, they do work for an evil genius after all, but you can't help but just love them.



Last year big wigs at Dreamworks milked the cash cow a bit more and come out with Despicable Me 2. * Spoiler Alert!!* It in the minions actually do turn evil.




In my funk this morning I had a thought - what kind of minion am I?

For the most part I think I am a good minion (and by good and mean the cute yellow ones). I am pretty much an hopeless optimist. Maybe even to a fault. I fully admit that I am more than a bit naive. I like to think that everyone is good and honest and wants to do the right thing. (See the naivete there?)

I know I have lived a bit of a sheltered life to still have this outlook, but what can I say? I have and I do. (Don't worry though I'm not going to send my bank account number to some Prince in Egypt or anything.)

I'm just a glass half full kind of gal.

Let me tell you it's not always easy. Sometimes it's difficult to find the good in something (or someone) or even a silver lining. Bad stuff happens. Negative thoughts creep into my mind all the time. But I have leaned, usually the hard way, that tearing others down to build myself up is the not the path to happiness.

And pessimism - that evil, purple minion, can be tough to shake, but it is a sad lens to look at the world through. Everything is not doom and gloom (despite what the news tells us). A lot of good is happening. Even what may not overtly appear as good.

There will always be pain, there will always be sadness, there will always be tragedy. Even someone as optimistic as me knows that. Bad stuff happens. Sometimes not even the sliver of a silver lining can be found.

So why not make the most of every other moment we have? Let's try to find good and happiness and joy in everything we see and do. Let's be the happy little yellow minions as much as we can and maybe this world will little a brighter because of it.

And the next time my mood is more than a bit foul, I will take a breath close my eyes see an adorable little yellow minion and smile.

Because Minions.

You will certainly make my world a little brighter by clicking on the Top Mommy Blog button at the top and voting for me. Thank you!

And then there was one

Kids are with grandparents for a two night sleepover. The hubs is at work. I have the WHOLE HOUSE to myself.





I love my kids, I do, but it was so nice to be able to get through an entire bowl of cereal this morning without being interrupted. I actually made it to the bottom of the bowl with out my Raisin Bran being a soggy mess. (Yes Raisin Bran, I am a boring mom, what can I say?)

So what to do, what to do? Well, two lists come to mind: the things I should be doing and the things I want to be doing. Very different lists you see.

The "should" to do list has things like:
Laundry
Dishes
Vacuuming
Cleaning closets

And the like.

The "want" to do list has things like:
Nothing
Watching a movie
Shopping
Reading a book

(And if I am being honest I should probably put reading a book on the "should do" list. The book I am supposed to be reading for book club is not very interesting. I hope it get better. I have the movie on stay-by just in case.)

Though basically everything on the "want to " list is trumped by doing nothing. Ahh, sweet nothing! Just sitting back in my favorite over-sized chair, feet up on the ottoman, eyes closed. Stillness, silence - sweet silence. I love my children, but they are very loud (unfortunately they get it from me) and always competing to be heard over the others. So a few moments of blissful, peaceful silence have become very valuable to me. I usually end up fall asleep, but sleep is also very valuable to me.

So what to do? Should do, what to do ... Should do, what to do ...

The responsible "mom" in me feels obligated to do at least a few things on the "should do" list, but the lazy part of me only wants to exert as much energy as is takes to change the channel.

I guess we'll see if anything gets checked off either list by tomorrow afternoon when I pick the kids up and the volume increases dramatically in our house.

At least I can check "write blog" off the list.

Wait a minute that wasn't on a list ... bullocks!

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There's a baboon on the right

I have this strange little tick. My husband has it too. It may be one of the top five reasons why we are married.

Yes, we love each other, blah, blah, blah, of course all that, but also ... We sing just about everything. All the time. Everything we do, seems to have some sort of singing attached.

We sing along to the radio/Google Play/Pandora, we sing about what we are doing, we make up nonsense songs.

We are Marshall Erickson on How I Met Your Mother.





It's strange and silly, but also COMPLETELY AWESOME. (And the fact that we both do it is even more awesome, because I could see how if you weren't into singing everything, it might get a little grating. But we do, so it doesn't and it's awesome!)

I was trying to think of some examples to illustrate our complete nerdiness, er' I mean, awesomeness, but of course my mind went blank. Does that ever happen to you? It happens to me all the time. You can think of a million and one examples until you are pressed to think of one and then - nothing. Mind blank. Except of course for some annoying TV commercial you saw three days ago that is running on a loop in your mind (I'm looking at you Taco Bell "Afternoon Delight" ear worm).

Then dinnertime came and examples galore! (Thankfully I was nerdy enough to write them down so I wouldn't forget!)

Example #1:
Dinner was just about to begin. We had announced to the kids to wash their hands and get seated at the table while my husband I finished up getting drinking and plating food. My son - the speedy hand washer that he is - was at the table in seconds and drooling over the plate in front of him. In fact he was SO famished he couldn't even wait until we were all seated, and snuck a couple bites from his plate. (Never mind that he didn't have silverware yet, minor inconvenience.) Of course he was caught in the act and mildly reprimanded.

"I just can stop from eating," he whined. Without hesitation my husband began singing "How can I keeeeep from eating?" (For those of you who may not know the song is really "How Can I Keep from Singing" and it's a church song.)

A couple chuckles from me, but since this is our daily life, no explanation, clarification or admiration required. On with dinner we go.

Example #2
Our youngest finally got to the table, climbed up in her seat and asked if she'd have to wear a bib with dinner. I answered yes, because we were having rice with dinner. Again, with our hesitation my husband breaks into "Rice, Rice, Baby" (ding, ding, ding, ditty, ding, ding). Than I break into singing the rest of the song. (Alright stop, collaborate and listen, ice is back with a brand new edition.)

Example #3
Then during dinner, our youngest was talking about something (for the life of me I can't think what) that she was going to do after dinner.

"I can't wait for tomorrow - I mean, today," she said.

My husband and I both lifted our arms into the air and shouted "Today!"

I'll give you a second to figure that one out. I am sure most of you already have it as it is possibly the most awesome Neil Diamond song in his amazing repertoire. If not, it's from his hit song America - and shame on you, go listen to some classic Neil as penance. I assure you, it won't be painful!

And all this is just a taste. Not even our best work, we've got a million of them. In the morning when I see my daughter's bus driving down the rode to pick her up and often sing "Here Comes the Bus" (doo doo dee do).

We stick our kids' name into any random song we hear that might remotely rhyme with it. We keep the tune but completely change the lyrics of songs to fit various situations.  We sing lyrics that are blatantly wrong, but kind of sound like the they are right (As long as I have you here with me, I'd much rather be, reverend blue jean, babe). 

We can't help it.. We don't even have to try, it just happens. I love it.

It won't be long until our kids start doing it too and in small ways they already have. (Although I can't think of any examples because I am trying to think of some examples.) Pretty soon our house is going to be like a musical - we will all just randomly break out in song and no one will think it is strange. (At least no one INSIDE the house.)

I'm no Julie Andrews, however, and sorry to say hun, you are no Bing Crosby (thank goodness, in so many ways). But I don't care. We love to sing and we will keep on doing it until we start to annoy each other.

Then we will do it louder ...

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Time: according to a two-year-old

Had a similar version to "are we there yet?" with my two-year-old the other day. I was drying her hair and she was not very happy about it. Of course she wanted to be free and playing with her siblings. The first minute or two were fine, but then she said "are you done yet?"

"No," I replied. "A couple more minutes."

"Now, are you done?" she asked as soon as my sentence was complete.

"No."

"Now?"

This went on and on. No matter how many times I told her it would be couple more minutes, she would immediately come back with "now?' I finally just pretended I couldn't hear her over the blow dryer and ignored her. (Classy parenting, I know.)

Time is a something that takes kids awhile to grasp. When I was growing up my parents used to tell us how long it would take to get somewhere in relation to TV shows we watched. For instance it took a Sesame Street, a Mr. Rogers and half a Reading Rainbow to get to our family cottage. (I watched A LOT of PBS as a child.)

Now with DVD player in the car kids can actually WATCH a Sesame Street, a Mr. Rogers and half a Reading Rainbow before getting there. Although I don't think too many kids watch the latter two. They are TV classics though ...

When they are not asking again, and again, and again "are we there yet?" or "are you done?" it can be pretty cute to hear them explain time as they see it. For my four-year-old son, everything that happened in the past happened last week. The day after tomorrow is "tomorrow, tomorrow." When you tell my youngest something will happen tomorrow however, she immediately says "now?"

It's pretty adorable (when it's not annoying).

I guess that is why preschool, kindergarten and first grade teachers frequently make "cookbooks" from recipes recited by their students. I use the term cookbook loosely here because no one would actually make any of the recipes out of it.

Most of them read something like this:
Chocolate chip cookies
2 tabs of butter
6 eggs
5 cups of sugar
sprinkle of flour
15 chocolate chips

Mix together and bake at 10 degrees for 4 hours

(Come on kid, the oven doesn't even cook that low, how I supposed to make these cookies? They sound delicious though. Five cups of sugar, yum! But why so stingy on the chocolate?)

On a side note, it's March 12 and we just got about six inches of snow dumped on us. I am just sad. We actually had grass showing for a couple days and now ... sigh ... now I get to get the stupid snow blower out and clear the stupid driveway of all this stupid snow. (Actually the snow blower isn't stupid. It's saving me from a lot of bad breaking shoveling. So, snow blower, you are wonderful, I just wish I didn't have to use you on March bleepity bleepin' 12!)

I need chocolate ... and more then 15 chocolate chips.

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Breakfast on the brain

So it must be the male gender in general that doesn't hear well? Cause I feel like a broken record sometimes with my son.

Every morning I get out clothes for him. Then I tell him what to do with the clothes he has on. Our kids wear their pajama two nights before putting them in the dirty laundry (no judgement here on whether that is gross or wasteful, that's just how we do it). So I tell them to either hang up his pjs or put them in his laundry bin. I don't shout it down the hall or whisper it quietly, I say it in a loud clear voice right in front of him exactly what he needs to do.

I walk out of the room so he can change and two seconds later,without fail, I get this:






EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

How does he not hear me? I am talking right to him. He doesn't have the TV for distraction. He is standing in front of me. What is he possibly thinking about that the words coming out of my mouth do not register?

There is nothing wrong with his ears either - he can hear, he just chooses not to ...

I could blame myself. I don't have him repeat it back to me, I'm not "down on his level" looking him in the eye, and all that, but COME ON! I'm busy. He's the kid, I'm the parent - he is supposed to listen to me. (Ha, ha, he's supposed to listen to me, good one Sarah!)

Its not just this little morning routine either. It's all the time. It's meal times and story times, bath times and especially clean up times (no surprise there).

I don't seem to have this kind of trouble with my girls. Even the two-year-old hears things better then my four-year-old son.

I guess it just reinforces a little theory I have about the male and female brain. My analogy is the male brain is like a waffle and the female brain is like a pancake. The male brain only thinks about one thing at a time - like the syrup goes into one pocket at a time in a waffle. The female brain - which thinks about everything at once - is like a pancake, where the syrup goes all over the place. (Is analogy the right word there? I know I should know it, but I fear I am using it wrong.)

What do ya think? Fair comparison? A little mean? Maybe, but I do think it's pretty accurate.

So with my son I am just destined to repeat myself forever, and ever and ever. His little waffle pocket must be full thinking about Hotwheels or ninjas or nothing at all. Men can actually do that - think about nothing at all. Amazing ...

In the end, we may be different, but we're all breakfast food, so I guess we all win.

Shoot, now I want some waffles ... And a pancake or two ... And some bacon ... Mmm bacon ...

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Return of the sweatercoat

How do you like the wonderful logo my husband and daughter made for me?

Isn't it awesome! I love it! Thank you guys!

So now it's March and it still feels like January. And I am sick of it.

I have always been one of those people who is perpetually cold. I'm cold when it's 70 degrees out. It's weird, I know, but that is just how I am - goose-bump prone. But all this stupid cold weather is making it ten times worse. I am always cold. I come home, take off scarf, mittens, coat and boats and put on a sweater coat or sweatshirt jacket and slippers.

It doesn't matter what I wearing either. I could already be wearing a sweater and the sweater coat is still going on. I look ridiculous, but it is that bleepity bleepin' cold where I live and that's how bleepity bleepin' cold I am. ALL. THE. TIME.

When you have to wear a long-sleeved t-shirt under your hooded sweatshirt and you still cover up with a blanket when you sit on your duff and watch home improvement shows, you know it's cold.

I do love living in Michigan. I do. It's just this year has been so horrible, so cold, so full of snow that I have reached the end of my sweater thread. Get warmer already! I want to see grass on the ground again. I want to to drive with the window down. I want to not have to bundle up to walk down the driveway to get the mail ...

I saw this on my drive home this weekend and it about sums up how I (and the majority of my state) feels:

I know it's gotten bad because I am looking forward to spring and I don't really love it all that much.. Sure the trees are budding and it's getting warmer and all, but with it also comes a whole lot of sogginess. Sogginess and large piles of black snow. Yuck.

Geesh Sarah, nothing seems to make you happy. You complain about winter and then you complain about spring. Will anything make you happy?

Yes, as a matter of fact. A trip to a warm beach will do the trick quite nicely. I am so sick of the snow I would even get over my uneasiness about planes and hop on one to get away from this white stuff.

Just need to win the lottery to do it. Guess that means I should start PLAYING the lottery ...

I see it's supposed to be close to 30 by the end of the week. Sounds like a heat wave ...

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Anything you can do I can do better

Yesterday my daughter hung this on the refrigerator:

There are so many things that I like about this. I love that my seven-year-old is giving ninja lessons (because she is SUCH an expert). I love that she put a very specific day and time on the flyer to ensure her students' skills were honed on a regular basis. And I love that she spelled lessons wrong (because she is seven and they usually spell words wrong.)

There is one thing however, that I kinda wish wasn't there. The "For Boys Only" part. It seems a little ironic to me that a girl teaching a class on ninjas is excluding her own gender. I am sure that this was added just to keep out my youngest. Being only two, I'm sure it was assumed she couldn't keep up with the rigorous demands of ninja training. Or maybe she was just annoying them last night and they wanted to exclude her. The latter seems much more plausible.

While it seems silly for me to take issue with anything written on my daughter's cute, benign little sign the exclusion of her sister annoyed me a little and sent my thoughts wandering (and then spiraling) down the path of gender in our society today.

I strongly believe that girls can (and should) do anything boys can do. We are all equal and should be treated the same. The marketing world, however, has yet to receive that memo. Just walk down a toy aisle and you will see the glaring reality on how the world perceives girls and boys. Girl aisles are doused in pink and purple (but mostly every shade of pink). Boys aisles have a color too - it's just not so glaring.

Don't get me wrong I love pink. And my daughters have many, many (many) pink things. Toys and dolls, cameras, brushes ... Suffice to say 75 percent of my daughters trickety toys are pink. They like the Disney Princesses and I am fine with that. They balance it out with having Light Sabers and having Star Wars battles in the living room.

We have a lot of "girl" toys at our house, yes. Then we have "girl" toys that really don't have to be so gender specific. This year for Christmas and then for her birthday my oldest received Goldi Bloxs. It is relatively new toy out on the market to help create interest in engineering in girls. It is a wonderful product and my daughter loves it and I hope it does foster her skills in engineering and math. But does it have to be pink?

It's like the Legos and Duplos out there for girls that consist mainly of pink, purple and pastel colored blocks and build bakeries, supermarkets and pet salons. Why is just about every thing for girls pink? Why does a girls science experiment kit have to make bath beads and facial scrubs?

I am sure there has been excessive market research done on how girls gravitate toward the pinks and purples and these companies are just trying to attract the most customers. Can't say that I blame them there. If girls buy items that are pink and purple why not make your product one of those two colors (and usually that color is pink)?

I know girls could learn the same skills if the blocks were blue or green or turquoise. So I guess it is really up to us as parents to not pigeon hole them in the gender roles (and colors) that seem to bear down so heavily on us and them.

I know 90 percent of who they become and how they view themselves in the world come from their home life and much of that is directly from me. How I present myself, what I say, what I don't say, how I react to situations - they take all that in whether I know it or not and it crafts who they are. If I constantly critique and bash my appearance, my daughters will see that and I will be training them to be over critical of their own bodies and place more importance on their looks then their brains. If I make off-handed jokes on how bad I am at math they will think they will be bad at math and just stop trying.

I know that I am sending mixed messages when I ohh and ahh over the way they look in dresses or paint their fingernails. It's a constant battle and I know most of the time I am losing.

Recently I read the book "Schoolgirls: Young Women, Self-Esteem and the Confidence Gap" by Peggy Orenstein. It was a very interesting read and had many dead-on points about young women and how we lose them to appearance and peer pressure. The material was a bit dated (she interviewed the girls 1994) but it still carried relevance to today's young ladies. Although I wonder how the book would be written in today's society with all it's texting, sexting, Facebooking, Instagraming, Tweeting and the like.

So what do we do? I have to say I really don't know. While I am glad there are toys and tools out there that are trying to help foster girls love for math, science and engineering, I wish that it didn't have to come in a pink box to do it. But in the end if it excites girls and educates them, why am I pushing back?

I guess all what I really want for my girls is to be independent and confident. To be comfortable with themselves and know that they can do anything they set their minds to. I want them to know that while there may be a couple of body parts that make them different than boys, their brains are just the same.

Pinkness aside, the gender gap is slowly closing and I know that being a girl now is possibly as good as it has ever been. I am so thankful and grateful for all the women who have blazed path and path for the sake of equality and maybe, just maybe by the time my great-granddaughters are born gender issues will be a non-issue.

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Numbers don't lie

Like the law of averages or the rule of threes, I have come to find that I have a number rule/law that applies to my house. I have taken to calling it the "2/3 Rule." The definition is as follows: if two of my three kids are happy, I consider it a win. Because it is nearly impossible for all three to be content/happy/not crying or yelling at the same time.

At least while the TV is off. And even then there would have to be some food involved.

And I am OK with this. Two-thirds is more then half and 0.67 is not a failing grade, close but not failing. (OK, OK I rounded up. You would, too, admit it!) 

Their moods change so rapidly and frequently throughout the day that it is difficult to keep up. The tiniest little nothing things sends them on a downward spiral and then what you think would devastate or anger them, they brush off like it is nothing. What was funny one day is not the next and what they LOVED one day they can't stand the next. So if at least two out of the three are happy at the same time, I feel like I am doing pretty good.

Now just you don't think I am an awful ogre, there times when all three get along swimmingly (usually they are up to no good, but they are quiet). And some times no one is happy. But we take what we can get. It's a tightrope we parents are walking here ...

This school year my oldest is gone all day. She hops in the bus in the morning and off in the afternoon and all I have to do is wave and smile at her wonderful bus driver who takes away all the anxiety and frustration that goes with pick-up/drop-off time at an elementary school.

While she is away I have the little two at home. My son has preschool a few hours every morning, so I even get some time every day when I am down to one. (Grocery shopping has not been this easy in a LONG time.)

But even when the little two are both home, the conflicts are at a minimum. Very little screaming, very little fighting, very little crying - and the kids well behaved too. But it seems as though the minute the bus drives away and my oldest comes bounding through the door, the trouble begins. Siblings start getting excluded, the volume increases exponentially and the physical violence begins.

Now, so you don't think that I am blaming this all on my oldest, I will stress that it doesn't matter which combination of the kids are together - as soon as the third enters the mix the problems begins.

Today for example: all three are home from school for yet ANOTHER snow day. (OK, fine - at least it is getting warmer.) After lunch the younger two go down for naps (glorious nap time!) while the oldest occupies herself. HEAVEN! Of course the nap for my son last all of 20 minutes so now he is up and starts playing with the oldest. They play a little upstairs, they play a little downstairs - they bother each other (and Mommy) very little. Then the littlest wakes up and it takes oh, about 30 seconds from her appearance in the living room before the yelling begin.

Strange phenomenon? Maybe. "2/3 Rule," definitely.

It doesn't help that my youngest changes her sibling loyalties on almost a daily basis. One day is all about her brother and it's the "little kids vs. the big bad, big sister," then the next day it's "sisters unite, girls rule and boys drool!"

The older two know it, too. They actually jockey for her affection sometimes. It's kind of funny actually and a little sad. A tiny little two-year-old with so much power.

Sometimes all that power goes to her head though and she wavers too long on her decision and ends up getting left in the dust while the older two repair whatever difference they had at that moment and go off and play together - without her. So then she cries ...

And the "2/3 Rule" goes into effect again ...

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