Taking a shower sounds simple enough. The more kids you have, though, the more complicated it gets. Some moms just don't bother, but it's one of those things that I refuse to skip, even if I have 12 kids (I won't). The key to getting it done is to simplify the process. So here it is.
Taking a Shower in 1400 Easy Steps.
Put oldest kid on the bus.
Realize you have to leave in 1.5 hours.
Usher three kids upstairs.
Lock gates at both ends of the hallway so that no one wakes the sleeping baby or breaks their neck falling down the stairs.
Settle the baby down for a nap.
Hear your three year old shout, "MOM! I pooped AND peed!"
Wipe your three year old's butt.
Start the shower to let it warm up.
Help your two year old on and off the toilet.
Rescue your deodorant from the hallway. Realize the cap is missing.
Remind your two and three year old that the baby is sleeping and they need to play quietly.
Yell, "BE QUIET!" when they inevitably slam the bedroom door.
Pray that the baby didn't hear.
Get into the shower and realize that the hot water has been running for 12 minutes.
Wash your hair while refereeing a fight about a motorcycle.
Get out of the shower and dodge awkward remarks about butts and nipples while you try to dry off.
Help your two year old onto the toilet.
Wave goodbye to poop.
Search for a new diaper.
Apply deodorant. Share it with the two year old. Body odor starts young.
Dodge requests for snacks, orange juice, and complaints about eye pain.
Search for a tie-dye shirt to no avail. Convince the three year old that his TMNT shirt is super cool.
Dig out some fresh nursing pads and your bra with plastic hooks.
Remember the days when cute bras were the norm.
Throw on yesterday's yoga pants and a tank top and usher the two older kids downstairs quietly, hoping that the baby sleeps long enough to put your hair up in a pony tail.
You're done! It's 9:30 am. Go eat some breakfast. You don't have to share, but you probably will.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Oh mama...
This morning, I was in the boys' bedroom as Big Kid was picking out his clothes for school. He chose his alligator shirt, the one that his nana brought back for him from her vacation to Florida. It is black and white, and the colors appear in the sun. He excitedly told me, "My classroom is really bright! I wonder if it will light up at school!" It was one of those moments that I wanted to pause. Bottle up. Remember forever.
I've been a mom for six years. I've got four kids. I like to think that I've learned a lot, but I know I have a long way to go. Some days, I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to slow down. Relax. That no matter how hard things were, how sweet they were, how exhausted I was, that this crazy train through motherhood was just getting started, and I needed to savor it.
Oh, mama. You are 39 weeks (8days7hours32minutesbutwhoscounting) pregnant. Your body aches. Your feet are swollen. You don't see how you can possibly grow any bigger. Oh, mama. You are just getting started. Some day, very soon, your little one will be born. But those aches won't go away. Your body will ache and cramp and groan as it tries to return to its original size. Your feet will swell from pacing the floors with a crying newborn. You arms will hurt so bad that you will be convinced that they will fall off because your sweet 32lb two year old insisted on being carried through the grocery store. But some day, very soon, you will miss being pregnant. You will miss the bumps and the kicks and the "Did my water break? No, that was just pee," moments of pregnancy.
Oh, mama. You are sitting on the couch holding that sweet eight day old baby. The newborn clothes are still too big on him. You adjust your shirt, prepared to nurse him for the 67th time that day. This is hard. Your body is tired. Your nipples are sore and cracked, and you aren't sure that your boobs can grow any bigger. They hurt so bad that a breath of wind could bring on the tears. Oh, mama. You are just getting started. Some day, that baby will be five months old. He will smile up at you as he drinks his milk, and you will realize that nursing got easier. It is the easiest and sweetest and most precious thing you have done. You have grown this baby from a microscopic egg to an 18lb giggling boy! And one day, you will sit down in that spot on your couch, cuddling that baby, and you will unclip that tattered nursing bra, and you will nurse him again. And that will be the last time that you ever nurse your baby. Maybe the tears will come because you realize that this phase of your life is over. Maybe you won't realize it is the last time and those tears will come later, as you look back and remember the days of nursing your newborn. You won't remember that you curled your toes and held your breath as he latched on. Instead, you will remember feeling the milk flow and the sweet weight of the baby in your arms, and you will realize, "I was just getting started."
Oh, mama. I see you. You are up for the third time with your eight month old. You are wondering if you will ever sleep again. Should you let him cry it out? Should you rock him back to sleep? What do the books say? What do the moms on Facebook say? What have you done wrong? Nothing, mama. You've done nothing wrong. You are tired, mama, but you are just getting started. You may get your baby to sleep now, but it won't be the last night that he wakes you up. He will get teeth. He will be sick. He will simply need a hug. One day, he will be three years old and he will get out of bed 47 times between 7:30 pm and 8:17 pm, simply to ask for water, request you to wipe his butt, or discuss spiritual questions of the universe that you have no answer to. It's tiring. The mamas of the universe are with you when you pour yourself a giant cup of coffee the next morning.
Oh, mama. You are wrestling with your 18 month old. All you want to do is put pants on him, but he won't comply. He has other ideas. Instead of putting on those pants so that you can run to the grocery store for more diapers, he's on the ground, kicking and screaming. The phrase "Terrible Twos" come to mind. Oh, mama. I'm sorry to say it, but you are just getting started. They don't call them the F*cking Fours for nothing, mama. Pick your battles, and stay strong. It's hard to discipline and train and teach all day and night, but it's worth it. You will recognize the fruits of your labors soon enough. So when you can't take any more, put them to bed. Get yourself some chocolate. Cry in the corner. It will all be alright. Remember that you are doing a great job.
Oh, mama. Sending your baby off to school for the first time. It's scary. Who will make sure that he gets to his classroom safely? Does that bus have car seats? What if he walks around all day with jelly on his cheeks after eating lunch in the cafeteria? What if he gets lost on his way to the cafeteria? Oh, mama. You are just getting started. You've gotten through the baby days and the toddler years, but your worries have changed.Now it's bullies and food allergies and "will he make friends?" It will be okay, mama. He will learn and grow in ways that you never imagined. But you may have to reconsider the way you spell things to your husband when you don't want your kids to catch on. Now, he will know what you are saying.
Oh, mama. Standing in a messy boys' bedroom, surrounded by superheroes and blankets and dinosaur teeth. You wonder if it will ever be clean. You wonder if they will ever find that missing library book. And you overhear an excited giggle, "I wonder if this shirt will light up at school!" One day, it won't be "cool" to wear a color change shirt to school. One day, it will be name brands and fashion and "What will my friends think?" Oh, mama. It's just getting started. Remember these innocent moments. The last six years have flown by, and before you know it, another six will be gone, too. Savor it.
I've been a mom for six years. I've got four kids. I like to think that I've learned a lot, but I know I have a long way to go. Some days, I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to slow down. Relax. That no matter how hard things were, how sweet they were, how exhausted I was, that this crazy train through motherhood was just getting started, and I needed to savor it.
Oh, mama. You are 39 weeks (8days7hours32minutesbutwhoscounting) pregnant. Your body aches. Your feet are swollen. You don't see how you can possibly grow any bigger. Oh, mama. You are just getting started. Some day, very soon, your little one will be born. But those aches won't go away. Your body will ache and cramp and groan as it tries to return to its original size. Your feet will swell from pacing the floors with a crying newborn. You arms will hurt so bad that you will be convinced that they will fall off because your sweet 32lb two year old insisted on being carried through the grocery store. But some day, very soon, you will miss being pregnant. You will miss the bumps and the kicks and the "Did my water break? No, that was just pee," moments of pregnancy.
Oh, mama. You are sitting on the couch holding that sweet eight day old baby. The newborn clothes are still too big on him. You adjust your shirt, prepared to nurse him for the 67th time that day. This is hard. Your body is tired. Your nipples are sore and cracked, and you aren't sure that your boobs can grow any bigger. They hurt so bad that a breath of wind could bring on the tears. Oh, mama. You are just getting started. Some day, that baby will be five months old. He will smile up at you as he drinks his milk, and you will realize that nursing got easier. It is the easiest and sweetest and most precious thing you have done. You have grown this baby from a microscopic egg to an 18lb giggling boy! And one day, you will sit down in that spot on your couch, cuddling that baby, and you will unclip that tattered nursing bra, and you will nurse him again. And that will be the last time that you ever nurse your baby. Maybe the tears will come because you realize that this phase of your life is over. Maybe you won't realize it is the last time and those tears will come later, as you look back and remember the days of nursing your newborn. You won't remember that you curled your toes and held your breath as he latched on. Instead, you will remember feeling the milk flow and the sweet weight of the baby in your arms, and you will realize, "I was just getting started."
Oh, mama. I see you. You are up for the third time with your eight month old. You are wondering if you will ever sleep again. Should you let him cry it out? Should you rock him back to sleep? What do the books say? What do the moms on Facebook say? What have you done wrong? Nothing, mama. You've done nothing wrong. You are tired, mama, but you are just getting started. You may get your baby to sleep now, but it won't be the last night that he wakes you up. He will get teeth. He will be sick. He will simply need a hug. One day, he will be three years old and he will get out of bed 47 times between 7:30 pm and 8:17 pm, simply to ask for water, request you to wipe his butt, or discuss spiritual questions of the universe that you have no answer to. It's tiring. The mamas of the universe are with you when you pour yourself a giant cup of coffee the next morning.
Oh, mama. You are wrestling with your 18 month old. All you want to do is put pants on him, but he won't comply. He has other ideas. Instead of putting on those pants so that you can run to the grocery store for more diapers, he's on the ground, kicking and screaming. The phrase "Terrible Twos" come to mind. Oh, mama. I'm sorry to say it, but you are just getting started. They don't call them the F*cking Fours for nothing, mama. Pick your battles, and stay strong. It's hard to discipline and train and teach all day and night, but it's worth it. You will recognize the fruits of your labors soon enough. So when you can't take any more, put them to bed. Get yourself some chocolate. Cry in the corner. It will all be alright. Remember that you are doing a great job.
Oh, mama. Sending your baby off to school for the first time. It's scary. Who will make sure that he gets to his classroom safely? Does that bus have car seats? What if he walks around all day with jelly on his cheeks after eating lunch in the cafeteria? What if he gets lost on his way to the cafeteria? Oh, mama. You are just getting started. You've gotten through the baby days and the toddler years, but your worries have changed.Now it's bullies and food allergies and "will he make friends?" It will be okay, mama. He will learn and grow in ways that you never imagined. But you may have to reconsider the way you spell things to your husband when you don't want your kids to catch on. Now, he will know what you are saying.
Oh, mama. Standing in a messy boys' bedroom, surrounded by superheroes and blankets and dinosaur teeth. You wonder if it will ever be clean. You wonder if they will ever find that missing library book. And you overhear an excited giggle, "I wonder if this shirt will light up at school!" One day, it won't be "cool" to wear a color change shirt to school. One day, it will be name brands and fashion and "What will my friends think?" Oh, mama. It's just getting started. Remember these innocent moments. The last six years have flown by, and before you know it, another six will be gone, too. Savor it.
Monday, September 8, 2014
And we are off...
It's Back to School time!
Big Kid is off to First Grade! Reading, writing, riding the bus. I can't wait to see how much he grows this year!
Toast is leaving the bread box for the first time. He's starting preschool this year.
Oh wait.
Enjoy your "break," you lucky ones! You know where to find me.
Big Kid is off to First Grade! Reading, writing, riding the bus. I can't wait to see how much he grows this year!
Toast is leaving the bread box for the first time. He's starting preschool this year.
I know that so many parents look forward to back to school season. I get it. After a busy summer, school is a much needed break from parenting. From 8:24 am to 3:09 pm, Big Kid is out of my hair. From 8:30 am to 11:30 am, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Toast is gone. That's nine hours a week of kid free time! I can relax, clean, and write. I can eat a bowl of cereal without children demanding that I share. I can shower without someone dropping Matchbox cars on the floor of the tub. I can enjoy the quiet at home.
NINE HOURS A WEEK JUST FOR ME!
Enjoy your "break," you lucky ones! You know where to find me.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
What do you have to complain about?
I was having a discussion with a Facebook friend this morning who was complaining (ironically enough) about parents who complain about their kids on social media.
GUILTY. AS. CHARGED.
And so are you. Don't lie.
Even if your "kid" can be locked in a kennel, you are probably guilty of complaining that he shit on the floor or ate your shoes.
Life, and especially parenting, isn't all rainbows and sunshine glitter-covered unicorns who piss chocolate. It's hard. It's real. And there is plenty to complain about if you are doing it right.
My complaints today include:
My six year old who hasn't slept in two days and has kept me up all night long.
My two year old who is as mouthy as can be who screamed so loud at soccer this morning that people were staring at me. (Keep looking - she's fine!)
The mountain of laundry and dishes and crumbs that these small people keep creating and that I keep cleaning.
The fact that I am EXHAUSTED. And hungry. Or is it hangry? I can't tell any more.
Post partum anxiety. I'm blaming this one on Muffin just so I have something else to complain about because he's pretty amazing as far as babies go.
My point is - it's hard! Parenting is hard! It has it's amazing moments, of course. I am thankful for my beautiful, healthy children. I am blessed that I have been entrusted to be their mom. I am working so hard to raise them into happy, well-adjusted adults who will contribute positively to the world that we live in. But I'll be damned if the road to success isn't bumpy, and I will complain along the way. And since you read my blog and are my Facebook friend, you will get to read all about it.
So here is a toast to the moms and dads and stepmoms and stepdads and everyone else who has taken on the enormous responsibility of raising a child. You are amazing. I know it's hard. If you want to share your kids' asshole moments on Facebook so that you can remind them to put their pants on for the 36th time without tearing your hair out, I will sympathize. I'll share my kid's own naked adventures and remind you that you are ROCKING this mama (or daddy!) thing. So keep on keepin' on.
Keep it real, parents of Facebook - the good and the bad.
My kids can't be the only pains in the asses out there, right?
GUILTY. AS. CHARGED.
And so are you. Don't lie.
Even if your "kid" can be locked in a kennel, you are probably guilty of complaining that he shit on the floor or ate your shoes.
Life, and especially parenting, isn't all rainbows and sunshine glitter-covered unicorns who piss chocolate. It's hard. It's real. And there is plenty to complain about if you are doing it right.
My complaints today include:
My six year old who hasn't slept in two days and has kept me up all night long.
My two year old who is as mouthy as can be who screamed so loud at soccer this morning that people were staring at me. (Keep looking - she's fine!)
The mountain of laundry and dishes and crumbs that these small people keep creating and that I keep cleaning.
The fact that I am EXHAUSTED. And hungry. Or is it hangry? I can't tell any more.
Post partum anxiety. I'm blaming this one on Muffin just so I have something else to complain about because he's pretty amazing as far as babies go.
My point is - it's hard! Parenting is hard! It has it's amazing moments, of course. I am thankful for my beautiful, healthy children. I am blessed that I have been entrusted to be their mom. I am working so hard to raise them into happy, well-adjusted adults who will contribute positively to the world that we live in. But I'll be damned if the road to success isn't bumpy, and I will complain along the way. And since you read my blog and are my Facebook friend, you will get to read all about it.
So here is a toast to the moms and dads and stepmoms and stepdads and everyone else who has taken on the enormous responsibility of raising a child. You are amazing. I know it's hard. If you want to share your kids' asshole moments on Facebook so that you can remind them to put their pants on for the 36th time without tearing your hair out, I will sympathize. I'll share my kid's own naked adventures and remind you that you are ROCKING this mama (or daddy!) thing. So keep on keepin' on.
Keep it real, parents of Facebook - the good and the bad.
My kids can't be the only pains in the asses out there, right?
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