Hey Kid..

My kids are the epitome of embarrassment. They are.




I should have known that my life was going to be in a constant state of humiliation when I opened my eyes during labor and delivery of the twins and saw ELEVEN other people in the room, all totally enamored of my uterus.




"2,4,6,8! Who do you humiliate?! Mom! Momma! Mother!"









There are basic humiliations that accompany being a mother..such as the days that you don't actually brush your teeth or hair. Or wear the same sweat pants for three days straight. The worst part of this is that once humbled, the same mother will even be seen OUT in public like this.




The fact that your body may never be the same is also quite a shock to most women. Obvious social pressure makes women more inclined to be in shape, to work to regain their 'pre-baby' shape.




Yeah, good luck with that.









The shape of mom herself is often overlooked because we as mothers spend so much time making our children into the little pristine angels we desire.




Dressing my daughter is like dressing up a little piggie.




My friend and I always say "You can always tell when it's the beginning of the year, because our kids are so clean and pressed and look so good. By the end of the year, they could wear the same damn clothes every day for a week and we wouldn't care!"









All the above is small in comparison to the big one. The big one.




The big one is when the children begin to speak.




Out of their mouths.









Dear sweet Jesus, someone shoot me.




When my twins were just about three years old, I was checking out of the grocery store and my son stood up and announced "My daddy doesn't wear underwear to bed!!"




My eyes got really bug like..and he smiled smugly like 'I dare you Mom, I dare you to hit me in a public place'.




That was ten years ago.




I have NO PRIDE left for them to annihilate, they have humiliated it out of me!









My children have yelled during church. They have farted in prayer. My children have said 'my parents don't like you' to visiting priests. In particular, 'my dad says you shake hands like wet lettuce'.




Yes.




My third son came into the world without a conscience. He says very little, but by God, when he says it..he means it.




Imagine my anxiety when he learned how to talk. By some hidden grace, this child had his teeth knocked out so he COULDN'T talk for two years. This, I have to believe now, was a gift! I could only imagine him saying 'you suck' or 'i have itchy balls' to some random passerby as a young child. This is a kid who will go upstairs, get a bar of soap from the shower, bring it to me..then proceed to call his brother every swear word he knows. He then takes the soap, puts it in his mouth and sits at the kitchen table until I call 'time out!'. This sweet, beautiful child got into a fight last year and after pummeling a child, wipes off his mouth and says "who's the girl now, bitch?"..while his grandfather turns his head in laughter.
And to think that my husband and I do not swear (often) in front of them! WHERE does it come from??
Yes, my kids embarrass me. Daily.





Yesterday, my daughter was having speech therapy to correct some of her sounds. As they were working, she announces "I hate baboons. They don't have hair on their BUTTS."




Gosh, thanks for sharing.






I didn't even flinch. The therapist looked up at me in surprise when I doubled over in laughter. Seriously, this is mild in the cornucopia that is my life as a mother.
And yes, I am a mother who sometimes wears sweats to the grocery store.
That I slept in.

Calm in the Storm

I think that sometimes when people are married for a time, that it becomes 'mundane' or 'boring'.
I think this is why it is a proven trend that many couples divorce at the ten year mark.
It's not fun anymore.
It's not sexy anymore.

That's not an excuse. Because it's true.
At the ten year mark, more than likely, a child or possibly two has entered into the scenario. Nothing is ever the same.
Ever.

It will never cease to amaze me how a crying baby or a coughing toddler will stop me dead in my tracks. The coughing, especially, will make me break out in a cold sweat.

But back to marriage. Adding a baby brings a whole new dimension.
The level of exhaustion associated with child rearing is astronomical. HUGE.
I like to sleep.

I used to say I had three favorite things.
The third was FOOD, the second was SLEEP, and the first was SEX.
My, how times have changed!
Just ask my husband. Or any husband for that matter.

I just found this quote.."Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired."
That can be perceived in two ways.
Don't fool yourself into thinking that it will always be 'extraordinary', because as I have said before, sometimes it is barely passable.
Don't 'tire' of yourself. Don't 'tire' of your love for that person.

I can remember getting butterflies in my stomach when I heard my husband's vehicle coming in the drive. I can remember snowy afternoons never leaving our bedroom. I can remember trying to cook his favorite meals and watching his face. Or laughing for hours over nothing. And hiking. And talking. And sleeping on the floor in front of our fireplace.

On the fateful fall day that I peed on the stick and drank a gallon of water only to pee on another stick...I changed.
I was a mother that very minute.

Being a mother changes your love. It doesn't diminish your feelings for your husband. But it does indeed change.
The very instant I felt the baby (BABIES) move inside me, I knew that I loved them wholly and completely without abandon. No fear. No reserve.

After they were born, and we followed suit with the other two installments..I knew that my husband and I had moved into this very easy, day to day..place.

I didn't like it.
I felt bored. Isolated. Unloved. Unspecial.
Blah, blah, blahblahblah.
This lasted for months.
Four kids. FOUR KIDS! I didn't have time for 'food, sleep, sex'..are you kidding me?!
I haven't taken a shower ALONE since they were born. I haven't slept in twelve years.

But as we plodded through this strange time frame in our marriage, I started to see him.

See him differently.
He is my partner, yes. He is my friend, yes.
He is my shade and my hand to hold and my hold to sanity. He bridges my gaps.

I believe I love him more today than I did before.
The ride isn't nearly as exciting, there are very few unexpected turns with him. He isn't full of surprises.
The kids, however, are FULL of surprises.
What makes me the happiest is that he is now standing with me enjoying all that our life has to offer..and I realize that our journey may not be a roller coaster full of passion and excitement.
But we have joy, and the trust that comes between two people who share the common joy of life multiplies into the best parts of a relationship.

If I had to rate it today.
Sleep. Sex. Family.

It's extraordinary.

chances

What are the chances?





Of.


Happiness. Grief. Love. Fear.





Forgive me, for I have indulged in a favorite tonight, music and wine. Bad combo for my morning but good for the creative process. I draw from a place that no one can feel, that George hasn't even seen.


He has seen almost all of ME and still wants more. He is the best chance I ever took.


This I write for a dear friend who may be embarking on a new journey into love. She has faced so many fears in her life.





I was her babysitter. I started as an 'employee' to her mother, and ended up loving her and her brother. They became a part of my life, and she was this sweet, good natured little joy who I found in my back pocket for the better part of six years. She was emulating me. I knew she was. I watched her every day. I was flattered that this creature would even want to be like me.


My flaws were numerous.


To me.





She would ask me questions. Hundreds of questions. She wanted her hair cut like mine. I would scold her little brother (he was this adorable critter, naughty by nature, but adorable none the less) and she would soon follow suit. In the same tone of voice and with the same look on her face.


I grew up. Went to college.


One night, I came home from a date and found this young girl at my doorstep..in tears, upset over circumstances that were beyond her control. Upset at choices that had nothing to do with her, but in a grown up world, choices become chapters in children's stories.


That night, I sat with her and took her upstairs to my room. We talked and fell asleep and in the morning, I hugged her..told her I loved her and she would be fine.


That experience was so humbling to me.


I will never forget that at my young age, possibly 19 or 20 years ago..I made an impact on a girl's life. She came to ME when she felt like she had no other choice.


It was a chance that I was her babysitter.


It was a choice that she became a sister.





This young woman today is like what I had EXPECTED my mirror to be. She is beautiful, she is kind. She travels and expands herself.


She is educated, she is independent and amazing and most of all, she is kind.


She gives.





I do not feel 'shorted' in my life. I took a chance with my husband. He was the best chance I ever took. Safe bet.


I have these amazing, crazy, whacked out kids. They laugh, they fight, they are loud and messy. I gave up all my education and dreams for them.


They became my dream. Evolution.





This young woman channeled everything she had into becoming what she already was..an amazing human being.


And she now has a chance at love herself.


With someone who may be a safe bet.





Someone who may not have been torn out of a Brooks Brothers ad. Someone who knows how to build a motor or who has hands that are dirty with work.


Someone who is the shadow of my husband. Who has worked beside him and learned from the man I love.





The two are cut from the same cloth. They can work from dawn till dusk. They have hands that are calloused with work.


Those hands can build a home.


Those hands can build a dream.





Take a chance.

Close your eyes. Remember the pain. Remember the joy.

'you gotta cry before you sing'

'chances are hopes torn out pages'

Fall.

Relative Happiness.

My best friend and I have this theory:


Happiness isn't just a GIFT. You have to make it yourself. It's a present to give yourself and your family.


Because sometimes the day-week-month isn't HAPPY.


Sometimes it sucks.

When I was young, 'child young', I wrapped myself up in my 'happy thought blanket' and saw everything with my child eyes.


When I was a teen, I foolishly based my happiness on a boy.


Boys don't make happiness.


As I aged, went to college, gained new insight on education, liberation. I started to kind of 'like myself'. I decided that I certainly didn't need a boy to make me happy.


Exit boy.



I liked to read. I read a lot during college. I wrote a lot. I liked being alone. I liked having solitary time to myself. I enjoyed working all summer at the pool, working second shift in a factory, waitressing on weekends.

I freed myself up to be 'available' to new experiences. I tried new foods. I tried to cook said foods. I tried new books. I talked with my parents. I walked the 88 steps up the sidewalk to my grandmother's house and sat on her front porch swing with her.


I tried to love. A few times. I tried to walk beside someone, instead of in front of behind him.


I had to admit that I was wrong. That love was a slippery slope.




I knew that I had to find some kind of balance within myself before I could be any good for anyone else.


Alone again.


Sometimes the best kind of happiness cannot be created. The best kind of happiness comes when you are least expecting it.



Sometimes it is a surprise~take a chance, step out of the bubble.



I will not wrap my happiness up in my children. I cannot hang that on them, it isn't their burden. Do they bring me happiness? ABSOLUTELY.


Do they bring me pain? FOR SURE.


But they didn't dial up and order it. The stress and anxiety that come with motherhood is not something that the child does..it's how we, as parents, react to the circumstances surrounding the child.



My happiness cannot be created, taken, shaken or dictated by the actions of others. Because it's mine. I earned it.


I walked the path and took my hits.

My children will have to learn this on their own.

Each person has to create his/her own space.


My husband makes me happy, but not everyday. What kind of husband makes a wife happy everyday? That is not real.


The reality of our relationship is that I am 100% responsible for making my own smile.




I definitely can attest to not making him happy every day! I make him CRAZY at least 5 days of the week.


If you want to be happy. Stop trying so hard.


Breathe.

Be alone and like it.

Read.

Listen.

Listen, again.


Find things in life that make you happy without having someone else to carry it.




That load gets very heavy.