Tag Archives: Motherhood

Lemon Head

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I started dinner. Nothing fancy or well planned like most of our dinners. Preheated the grill and was prepping BBQ chicken, with brown rice because my daughter has had a craving for rice all week, and peas. Pretty boring, but still yummy and gets the job done.

As I was asking my husband to prepare the chicken for me I noticed my sons hair looked wet. So I felt it. Well, it was wet once upon a time, but was now sticky. I asked what was all over his head. My daughter replied with one word. Lemonade.

Lemonade? You bathed your brother in Lemonade?

She proceeded to giggle and answer with a yes.

A little bit of my soul died in that moment.

Why would you do that? Ugh.

At least it wasn’t peanut butter body lotion.

So, I gave my husband two choices: finish making dinner or give the kids a bath while I finished dinner.

We [playfully] argued back and forth for a while about who was going to do what and when. My daughter chimed in to resolve the dispute for us.

Daddy, you make dinner and Mommy will give us a bath, ok?

Daddy, obviously defeated by the adorableness of our 3 year old with attitude, moped and began slicing chicken.

Worked for me!

I grabbed the kids and went upstairs to draw a bath. As I was getting my son undressed I noticed he had a poopy stinky butt. Ugh. Back downstairs I went to clean poop. As I finished cleaning his butt, he rolled over, stood up, and peed all over the living room floor. Awesome, kid. Thanks.

Really? Really?!

The hubby said he’d clean it up so I went back upstairs and left the pee on the floor. I plopped my little Lemon Head in the tub along with the Sticky Bandit.

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I couldn’t help but look at their sweet smiling faces, smile back, and think to myself about all the craziness I wish upon them from their future children.

As I was leaving the bathroom with two snuggley towel bunnies in hand, my husband was approaching me from the top of the stairs, now wearing shoes, with a look on his face that shouted ‘I’m 5 years old and a stranger stole my candy’ with a side of ‘oh shit.’ He said we had a problem. We ran out of propane mid grilling. Oh.

Well, he ran off to get more propane so we could finish cooking our dinner. We ate. Blah blah blah. Nothing fancy here. Or here.

Nope. Not here either.

Not really anything else interesting happened.

So I guess that’s the end.

Now that I’ve typed it all up. It’s really not that interesting. Just an interesting chain of events that made up our night. Oh well. I hope you at least smiled at the picture.

Oh, my son decided to pulled down a plate of uneaten food onto my freshly clean dining room floor after dinner, too. Cleaned that floor 3 times today. 3 times. That was fun.

I love my kids. Random pee and lemonade and all.

Damn Aliens!

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You know that feeling you get when you wake up in the morning, the birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and you’re so refreshed from that full night sleep you got? Ohhh, it feels so, so, so good. For maybe 10 seconds. Until you gradually come to the realization of: I slept all night long?! I’m refreshed?! OH MY GOD! THE BABY!

All you moms, and probably a bunch of dads, know this feeling all too well. It’s usually embedded into your brain for weeks afterwards. The panic that boosts your anxiety so much that you make it to your baby’s room without ever stepping foot on the floor. Not to mention the 4,899 horrible scenarios that manage to jam into your mind of what could be wrong, all within the 0.3 seconds it takes you to fly into your baby’s room. My baby is still sleeping! Something MUST be terribly wrong.

Why is it so quiet?

He probably stopped breathing.

He’s probably blue.

Oh god. He’s dead.

Is he even in his bed?

Was my house robbed?

Did they kidnap my baby?

Did I really not hear him cry?

He jumped out of bed and fell down the stairs.

Oh god, please don’t be at the bottom of the stairs.

The cat finally ate him?

There really are monsters in the closet!

He joined a secret society of ninja’s and was recruited in the middle of the night…

No note? Jeez. Love you too.

Maybe he’s just downstairs with my husband safe and sound eating cheerios?

Nope too practical.

Aliens.

He was totally abducted.

Damn Aliens!

 

Those were some of the actual thoughts that went through my mind when I woke up at 7:15 Tuesday morning, alone, and realized he was not in bed with me. You see, I co-sleep with my son for the second half of the night and apparently he slept through the night, in his crib, for the first time Monday night.

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Either I get up multiple times throughout the night for feedings or I ruin my refreshed full nights sleep with absurd ideas of why he’s not awake followed by a heart attack. So, obviously it doesn’t matter if they sleep through the night or not, we’re always going to be sleep deprived anyway.

 

Stay-at-home-mom

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I’m a stay-at-home-mom full of free time! Said no stay-at-home-mom ever.

Working people do two things that really bug me.

1. They ask me: “What do you do all day?” And it’s not the question itself that bugs me, but that I can hear the demeaning tone entangled between the words and I can see the egotistic glare of self-justification as they try to lower my self-esteem because I don’t pay someone else to watch my kids while I go to work. I can’t blame them for not knowing the answer, though. I mean really; what DO we do all day? The answer? Everything. Every. Thing.

And 2. “You’re just a mom.” That  is probably the worst thing you could ever say to a stay-at-home-mom. JUST a mom? Excuse me? Whoa. Take a step back and think about what you’ve said. Yes, I am just a mom. That makes me a cook, maid and waitress, I’m a nurse and a boo-boo kisser, a diaper changer and a butt wiper, a therapist and a story teller, a teacher and a role model, a laundry doer and the toy picker upper, the teeth brusher and hair dresser, a bather and an outfit organizer, a walking milk machine and a human tissue, a taxi driver and an ATM, cheerleader and sports couch, a referee and a translator, an alarm clock and a monster slayer. I wash the dishes and the toilets, the clothes and the sheets. I buy the groceries in our fridge and the clothes on my kids backs. I do breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks everyday. I get up in the middle of the night when the kids are scared, hungry, or if they decide to start the new day at 2.a.m. I don’t get holidays or sick days. I don’t get breaks or days off. I work day and night; 24/7 for the rest of my life with no paycheck. It may seem silly to you, but I’m everything to my kids.

I’m tired and sore. Sometimes crabby and irritated. My head is full of a million and one different thoughts and I can not process them at the same time even though I have to. My house is a complete wreck no matter how much I clean it. The days I select as my “days off” consist of not bending over to pick anything up; except for that leaking juice cup.

While I’m responsible for all of these things they don’t always get done promptly. The dishes devour the counters the majority of the time. The dirty laundry pile covers the basement stairs as we just toss them down. The clean laundry piles up and overflows onto the floor before I get to folding and putting it away. The toys end up in every corner of the house. Fruit snack wrappers and crumbs are found stuck to bare feet as you walk along my hardwood floors. I don’t even know how old some of the snacks are in the way back of the pantry because I can’t see that far in because it’s crammed with junk and more junk and crap. The cats start pooping on the bathroom floor if I forget to clean it every two days. My husband sat on the couch yesterday and felt something hard. He pulled out a long lost sippy cup with moldy milk in it. Yum. I can’t even remember the last time I vacuumed my bedroom. But, it’s so messy in there I couldn’t vacuum it even if I went up right now. My house is a pigsty. And it’s not because I never clean it. I do slack sometimes, however. We all do. Working or stay at home. There’s just not enough time or energy to do everything, every day. And for those of you who manage to keep up on house cleaning, please teach me your ways.

While I understand not every family can financially support themselves without two incomes, I feel like society views us stay at home moms in the wrong light. With out being a stay at home mom (or dad, can’t forget stay at home dads, too!) you really can’t accurately visualize what it’s like. We probably work harder than [most] standard 9-5 job-goers.

So, to those who have said either of these things to me or any other stay-at-home-mom, I’m sorry if I offended you with my 24/7 non-paying job. While you’re paying a stranger to enjoy precious moments with your kids, I’m not missing any of it. I get to see every milestone, smile, frown, giggle fit, tantrum, first words and first steps. I get to see it all and know I had the impact. It was me that did all of this. My sweet children are who they are because of me and I got to watch it all unfold and evolve into something miraculous. It’s not easy, but every moment is worth it because being called Mom is my greatest blessing.

Take a moment to watch this video that explains what I’m trying to say perfectly.