Tag: mom

Mothers Day in a new light

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Today is the first day of May.

Today is the first full month of 2018 that I feel somewhat less lost as a mother, as a daughter and as a woman.

I have grown children, and teenage children, and fur children. I have a wife who I have been accused of treating like a child on occasion. Nobody is perfect, judgmental Judy.

I even have feathered children (I love those little cluckers).

I know, I look way too young to have grown children, thank you for thinking it.

The fact is I do. The oldest are adults, adulting in a grown up world far from my nest.

In case you need a quick refresher note here is a mini version of my sorta-adult life:

A long time ago in a land far away there was a young “know it all teenager” who found herself pregnant and stupid. She married her boyfriend, bought a house with a white picket fence added in a couple dogs and had everything but happiness.

More ridiculous things happened in the middle. Blah, blah, blah …

Fast forward 20 something years and that stupid teenager is a self proclaimed wise(r) woman. She made mistakes. She fell down alot, skinned her knees and nearly broke her neck emotionally and mentally. Eventually that lost girl found her happiness. She distanced herself from her own mother for fouls of a personal nature for years but has since, very recently, found forgiveness. Her grown children are distanced now, not by spite but by miles and sparse communication.

For all of my woes there is a light in distance, there is a summer plan to bring all of my people to the same harmonious place.

By harmony I mean grass and lawn chairs, sipping cold beverages and cheering on a game of corn hole or horse shoes. There will be laughter and loud voices, there will be barking dogs and trash talk. There will be breezes to blow the smoke from the grill.

There will be a stillness inside me finally even in the midst of reunion chaos.

Mothers Day may come in mid May but I am celebrating a little earlier. For the first time in a long time I have something entirely and unexpectedly related to extended family to look forward to.

Something that isn’t a surprise pile of dog poo in the hallway in the middle of the night when I get up to pee.

Something not related to a bag of cheese puffs in the pantry with a single cheesy puff left in the bottom of the bag.

Something uncommonly good to look forward to. Something not at all like a field trip leaving tomorrow at 4 in the morning which I learned about the night before.

Nope. Something really, really good.

Something great is on the horizon. A Happy Mothers Day indeed.

 

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Vacation planning – AKA slow torture

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It’s that time of year again.

I am planning the “big” vacation. Not our mountain weekend trips or mini last-minute romantic escapes. This is the big one, where we coordinate days off, convince the kids they will love the destination and then convince ourselves we will love spending a week in close proximity  … all together in one place …. for a week.

For a family that stays as busy as we do, formally getting together for anything longer than dinner is like herding kittens in a yarn store. Nobody has the same sleeping habits, food preferences, hobbies, athletic ability or desire to leave the confines of their bedroom and personal electronics. Did I mention the kids are pre-teen & teen-aged? Good times.

This is how things generally go:

2 minutes from home – “I need to pee”

10 minutes from home – “I’m bored”

30 minutes from home – “I’m hungry”

5 minutes after pulling into the parking lot of the hotel we intend to stay at – “I think I forgot to pack underwear”

30 seconds from opening the door to our room – collective bags drop and everyone falls into the beds for napping

Then there are activities:

“Let’s go to the pool!”  … blank stare “but we have never explored this area, there are bike trails, museums, shops, historical monuments ….” blank stares, holding swimsuits. Same swimwear they always wear .. to the pool we can go to back home … for FREE.

“Let’s go visit this lighthouse! We can climb to the top and take family photos and read all about the people who lived and worked here a long time ago!” My families typical response? “Can you just take a picture, from the car, so we can go get ice cream? We passed the shop just back there.”

“Mountain trails?  uhhh … hiking? That sounds like it will be hot and there will be bugs. Is there even wi-fi?” Where did I go wrong with these kids?

“The sun is in my eyes.” … “where are your sunglasses?” … “I lost them.” We bought them this morning!

Shivering in July sun …”The water is too cold”

“I don’t like sand.” Just spent 2 hours digging a giant hole … in the sand.

“I want to go to the room, I’m bored” 100 people on the beach, books, snacks, football, waves perfect for boogie boards, random friendly dogs. Definitely nothing going on here. Nothing at all.

or my favorite – random activities from the hotel booklet things we either didn’t budget for or would cause at least one of the family members to have a panic attack. It seems the kids know just how to push my mom buttons… “Skydiving!” No.

I’m on the hunt now for someplace affordable, where nobody will be left out, or bored, or too frightened to enjoy the experience. Where there will be places to eat that everyone likes and in an area family friendly enough to be safe but not resemble a nursery rhyme.

Maybe a stay-cation is in order. Somehow I don’t think we will all agree on that either.

 

 

 

 

 

Happy International Women’s Day or whatever day it is …

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It seems there is a holiday for everything. Yesterday was Cereal Day. Tomorrow is Unique Names Day. My favorite of all though has to be March 12th, Get Over It Day. Research says it was invented in 2005 but I’m not convinced it’s not a long running joke placed coincidentally between Valentines and April Fools.

As for today … it’s officially International Women’s Day. I may have just rolled my eyes. Before I am tackled to the cold hard ground by a feminist and my inbox fills with hate mail hear me out.

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I am all about strong, kick ass women. Honestly.

I admire women in every corner of the world for your contributions to life and love. All the amazing work you do without formal recognition.  From those in high heels teetering around office buildings to those wearing military boots stomping alongside your male counterparts. Especially to those of you running around with one slipper, and a day short of a shower, chasing toddlers.

All of us are miracle makers, mountain movers and marvels of beauty and grace in our own right.

I happen to think I am pretty worthy of a little celebration now and again but is all this really necessary? Do we need an actual day of remembrance for our contributions, our talents and our sacrifices?

Do we not hear quiet admiration from our friends, our co-workers, our lovers and our children? Are we not honored by our successes? Do we not build each other to be better than the day before without a day to be reminded to do so?

Instead of a day to honor women internationally each and every one of us should really already be aware of our own unique contributions and appreciated for such daily. We should see ourselves worthy of a place in the world, with or without a ridiculous holiday because without us what kind of world would it really be?

You don’t need a day in your honor, find honor in every one of your days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I just want to go to sleep ..

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Sleep. I’ve come to realize when I need it, its elusive, like Big Foot or Loch Ness.

When I would really like to stay awake I’m pretty much out with zero chance of not drooling on myself.

It is evenings in particular that I find myself alone, with a workday ahead in the morning, that I can’t seem to fall asleep. Nights I need my rest to function when the sun rises. The nights I can take up the entire bed, pile all the pillows under my head and wrap myself burrito style in our blankets without anyone complaining.

These are the nights I can not convince my body to go to f*cking sleep.

I tried turning the air conditioner on, apparently a cooler room helps you sleep. It’s not helping. Someone probably made that crap up so their lovers body would be as near theirs as possible for warmth. I’m just smothered by bed covers, my cheeks are cold and I’m being assaulted by blanket burrowing dogs.

I tried to watch TV, no go. It’s not safe to venture there. There is nothing on the DVR I won’t end up binge watching a marathon season of.

I tried to lay still and breath deeply, clearing my mind. Next thing I knew I was thinking about whether my love had text me back and then I had to check my phone. Deep breathing mission aborted for the opportunity to digitally flirt.

I would try warm milk but then I’d want cookies too. I need to look amazing on the beach for vacation in just over a week. No milk, no cookies.

I might even consider taking some sort of sleep aid but then I likely would not wake refreshed. Or my luck, ever. Everyone knows that’s a terrible plan, even for those of us who don’t operate heavy machinery.

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I have reached an age where I require more than 5-6 hours of snooze time or everyone I come into contact with the next day will suffer the consequences. It’s just not pretty any way you look at it and I don’t just mean the bags under my eyes.

Worst of all is my magical ability to pass out cold snuggled into my love at any given time. This little trick happens regardless of any plans we may have had that didn’t involve sleeping.

It’s a curse really. When I’m alone there is zero chance of sleep and when I’d rather enjoy her company I’m out in minutes.

To make it all worse it just so happens we work opposite schedules. This means we spend 1/2 of our nights separated. It’s awful and should somehow be illegal.

Maybe the next time I can’t sleep I’ll Google it.

Alas. Here I am thinking about what I should wear to work tomorrow…

and what we might do this weekend…
and whether my kid had me sign his homework …
and whether anyone fed the dogs tonight …

It’s a glamorous life I’m living. Especially when I should be snoozing.

Guess who decided to throw an impromptu party?

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It was a typical Tuesday and I was feeling a little stuffy and stuck in a weekday slump. I must have temporarily lost my mind because I decided to have a bonfire party at our house … this Friday. Seemed easy enough, I will buy some beer and chips and invite some people out.

Nothing is ever that simple. Not in my world. I have no idea what kind of fog I was walking around in and now that I’m awake and it’s Friday a.k.a. “we are partying at your house tonight, right?” I am just a bit concerned.

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I needed this … yesterday.

I pre-party shopped last night, the night before my event. That was a first. I am always on top of these things. I am always a great hostess. I always think these things through with lists and check marks and real thought. Not this time.

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Everytime.

Although I hated it I handled that Wal-Mart cart, at 9 pm on a work night, like a boss. Narrowly avoiding free running children, detouring isle blockage, and dodging wild eyed class moms with cart loads of birthday cupcakes. I should get an award for making it out alive.

This is not my thing.

If I must shop the Wally I do it at 2 am on a Saturday with like 5 other people who are not interested in chit chat. Get your crap and get out kinda people. My people. I am not the week night last minute I’ve put it off so long I have to do it now with everyone else who is a procrastinator.

Except this week.

I think I covered all the essentials; I got the beer in 3 brands, an assortment of 2 liters, wine, chips, veggies, hummus, dips, a cheese and cracker assortment and stuff for the kids to make s’mores.

What I didn’t consider was a sheet to cover every pile of embarrassing clutter in my entire house. I am still wondering how much time it would take to buy enough covering to make my house look like one of those old abandoned houses in movies.

Or If I have enough time to hire someone to27fdae9b766b5bc20bdabc8b75571559 come clean up the house before anyone arrives tonight.

Or if I should cancel altogether. I could just drink the wine and eat my cheese plate alone.

I might even have enough beer to last us a few weeks. It might be totally fine.

We will probably spend all our time laughing and enjoying company around the bonfire.

My guests will probably not be attacked by dust bunnies.

What I didn’t consider was a sheet to cover every pile of embarrassing clutter in my entire house. I am still wondering how much time it would take to buy enough covering to make my house look like one of those old houses in movies. Or If I have enough time to hire someone to come clean up the house before anyone arrives tonight. Or if I should cancel altogether and drink and eat my cheese plate alone.

I will probably not be harshly judged on my lack of Martha Stewart level living. Probably.
fbb21528abf93b53f3a22f45589c0417 At any rate we have plenty of beer, if anyone starts looking scared I will just offer them another and a cracker from the cheese plate. I’ve got this. If I pull this off it will be a miracle.

A hostess with the mostest miracle.

Spring cleaning the closets

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It’s that time of year again. We dig out the prior seasons clothing, sort totes to see what still fits and what’s still fashionable.

Unimagetil about 2 1/2 years ago I did this task twice a year all by myself. I would go from bedroom to bedroom and organize with carefully color coded totes. It took me about a day and that includes the inevitable laundry. That was when I had time for simple pleasures, like bubble baths and pedicures. Times have changed.

Life circumstances the last 2 years or so what they were, the kids would sort of help the last few change outs. This was done with minimal supervision and it seemed like they had a good handle on keeping organized and tidy. I didn’t check on them. It was after all probably fine.

This year I decided they could do it themselves entirely. A preteen boy and a young teen girl, I could trust them with this responsibility. cause I’m tired. and lazy.

Still.
The kids are surely old enough to do this all by themselves, right? Wrong. So wrong.

I came home to begin my weekend on the couch; I was going to watch a movie or a Netflix marathon or something on the DVR. Or maybe all that. I’ve had a long week and I earned this weekend. I had all night free and popcorn ready for poppin.

Then it started.

The endless arm loads of clothing being dumped around me. Then they started with the questions …

Daughter: “What about clothes I don’t want?”
Me: grumbling, pausing the TV but not making eye contact … “Just sort them and I’ll figure it out.”

Son: “What about this?” holding a shirt some random kid probably left here months ago.
Me: “Really? Put it in the pile. I’ll sort it out.”

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I’m gonna take my chances anyway.

This went on for what seemed like forever. Then they disappeared leaving me with more clothes than a Goodwill grand opening.

Then I noticed the smell. Not the buttery goodness of a fresh Orville Redenbacher. No. More like one of the dogs passed gas while barfing up a dead thing they unburied and then ate. Not that my dogs would do such things. Hopefully.
I don’t know where the stench was coming from but it was gross.

I sighed heavily without breathing in too much of the toxic air and set to sorting. No way could I continue ignoring the mess. I carefully inspected the clothing and made my selections. One pile for eBay, one for donating and one for the trash.

I found one of my cardigans, a single shoe, a dried up leaf and 2 mini bounce balls. I also found some tiny sizes they clearly missed in the prior seasons closet clean outs. I don’t care how good of a job they claim they did, I know nobody in this house has worn Iron Man under-roos since kindergarten. Lucky for me one pair of jeans had 42 cents in the pocket. Even luckier? Nothing dead.

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I think maybe I will go back to cleaning their closets myself. Even if it means I never, ever get time to just watch TV without multi-tasking again.

Why spring break without my kids is going to be epic.

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I realize I sound like a terrible mom. Sometimes I probably am. This time though I’m somewhat sure I’m doing this parenting thing right.10256864_871126482901441_2423989799738735330_n

My lucky little brats are going on a (probably) once in a lifetime trip with their dad and his family over the upcoming spring break. To freaking Disneyland. Best news of all? I’m not invited.

It’s not that I don’t like traveling by car with kids to packed places with even more kids. I actually am ok with that part. It’s the ex and accompanying in laws thing that would make me run screaming for the hills of Magic Mountain never to be seen again. Funny mouse ear hats, long lines for rides, costumed freaks everywhere, slightly sunburned faces and blistered feet. Plus pictures to capture it all. Sounds fabulous. For anyone but me maybe.

Yet still I’m a little bummed this epic adventure is sans the baby momma. I know time is limited and valuable. My kids don’t get rain checks, or parent time exchanges. When an opportunity comes along for family memory making it’s a big deal. No selfish parenting allowed, no blame game, no hassle.

My kids are going to love this opportunity, even if I’m not there too. They will be spoiled and loved on every second of the trip.  When they get back I will listen to their stories and I will try not to be jealous. I will be equally happy for their epic spring break and for mine.

Until then though I’m going to have to sit in long hot baths, take naps, eat junk food for dinner and try enjoy the silence. I’ll try to do my best. 

 

 

 

Hey all! Welcome!

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I started this blog because I identify with so many of you and it’s about time we got together for a chat. Here’s a little about me to get us started …

I’m a modern day mom and wife. My life is like any other, I have a mortgage and a couple kids. All that’s super interesting but add in a wife (yes, wife) some sarcasm, a few cute dogs, plus a mostly rewarding career and some crazy friends and there you have it.

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As a disclaimer I’m going to be talking about all of it. I mean it. The good, the bad and the down right ugly. You’re getting the honesty; my kids are sometimes brats, my wife is sometimes an asshole and sometimes I spew swear words like I don’t know any other. My dogs are untrained, my job makes me crazy and my hair is unnaturally frizzy. There are good days too. I’m totally head over heels in love, I live in a beautiful area and I’ve got some great people around me every day.

I’m going to share it all. Well mostly all.

No shame or regrets, after all this is my idiotic bliss.

Be sure to follow my blog or sign up for email updates to read all my newest posts.

Feel free to join my Facebook fan page too …

https://www.facebook.com/pages/My-Idiotic-Bliss/827621517313344