Other Peoples Crap Monday

It never fails. Mondays come too early in the week. And with 4 kids playing ball and doing all sorts of other extra curricular activities, the weekends seem busier than the weeks. And my husband is home on the weekends, which somehow, even though he does nothing (and I mean nothing) throws a sticky fork in my schedule.

Worst of all, my kids don’t ride busses to school. I have never once, had the luxury of standing in a bath robe with curlers in my hair (just to embarrass the kids) at my own front door, or on the curb if it was warm enough, with my dogs at my side and cup of hot coffee in my hand to wave goodbye at a school bus. Waving good-bye to a school bus as it putters down the street is a dream of mine. A pipe dream at that.

So, its wake up the kids – give them something that resembles breakfast to eat, yell at them for picking out bad outfits, and remind them that they have to brush their teeth and their hair as I rummage around trying to make lunches. I hear the word, “mama” fifty million times and wonder how work away from home moms are able to get their panty hose on AND get the kids ready for school.

I imagine from above (meaning the ceiling not Heaven), the scene must look like pure pandemonium and madness – because I know for sure that when I get home from taking my kids to school, the house is an utter mess. There are toothbrushes and toothpaste plastered all over the sink, the toilet is full of pee and toilet paper (my kids apparently don’t have time to flush), there are dirty clothes strewn across the bedroom and living room floors and the counter tops are covered in toast crumbs. (And spaghetti because one of my daughters likes dinner for breakfast). Half empty and half eaten ‘things’ are everywhere and their rooms look as if a mischievous Christmas Elf went ape shit. (I hate those elves by the way….they truly are the enemy)

So my Monday starts with picking up other peoples crap. And hopefully a shower. But other peoples crap always comes first.

Mondays, like all the other days of the weeks are a culmination of wiping toothpaste off of things and trying to maintain order in my home. Instead of listening to music while I clean up ‘other peoples crap,’ like Cinderella, I dream my cheesy school bus dream.

On this particular Monday, I wondered what would happen if I didn’t clean up anything. At all! What if I simply decided that I would take a shower, turn on the television and sit my fat butt (it’s not really fat) down on the sofa, relaxing to the complete sound of nothing and no one. (Oh wait, my 4 year old is still home.) So, what if I just hung out with her and watched Franklin or Dora rather than clean like a mad woman until its time to go pick up the kids from school again? Would the world end?

Today, I did just that. Just to see if the world would end. Here’s what I found out. Truth is, I didn’t enjoy it that much because motherhood has made me extremely OCD. And, since I do creative work for a smidgen of a living – I cannot work or think, or even ‘be’ among environmental chaos if I want to be productive. I hung around the house all day, pushing against the urge to deal with other peoples crap. And it made me feel crappy. It made me feel like Peg Bundy. It also made me tired. More tired than I would have been had I done laundry, vacuumed, swept, mopped, cleaned the toilets, made the beds, dusted the ceiling fans (okay, so that one is a lie), cooked dinner, swept the porch, and organized the shelf above the stove. And worse, when the kids got home, I was in a crappy mood that even my school bus dream couldn’t drag me out of.

I did however learn, that most of my energy spent cleaning during the day is a waste of time. Because regardless of whether my 4 kids come home to a sparkling clean house after school or not – I have to redo half of the chores I did earlier in the day right before bedtime. On this Monday, I learned that laziness is not fun. But I also learned that I waste a lot of time cleaning things, mostly other people’s crap, only to have to re-clean them a few hours later. Most importantly, I realized that my life is literally, 100% about ‘other peoples crap.’ Which is kind of crappy sometimes….

Freedom!

I sing.  When I am alone.  Normally, in my car.  If the kids are with me – they get pretty irritated and downright bitchy when I am belting out my renditions of my favorite songs.  So, I sing alone – because its fun, right?

When I was younger, my friends and I would go out bar-hopping and dance the night away.  So much so that my thighs would ache the enxt day, as if I just ran a marathon.

I cannot say that the dancing was good – but it was dancing nonetheless.

Now I am an ahem adult.  A mom.  I don’t dance anymore.  And I sing alone.

Yesterday, I watched my 5-year-old daughter playing in the yard, bare feet being tickled by freshly cut grass,  singing and dancing her heart out.

I am sure she was pretending to be a ballerina, and I also think that in her mind – she sounded like Adele.  She sang loud.  And proud.  And she danced with grace.

But mostly what I noticed as I watched her from my perch, was the freedom with which she sung and danced.  She didn’t care if anyone was looking or listening.  She was comfortably secure in her own world and her small body was expressing itself to match her mood. She was FREE.  Free like the bird flying high overhead, free like a dolphin exploring the deepest part of the ocean.  F.R.E.E.

One of the beautiful things about children, is that they always act out their moods and emotions.  When they are happy – THEY ARE HAPPY.  They laugh too loud, sing too proud, dance with their bodies and minds in ways that adults can’t do without the influence of alcohol.

One of my teen daughters does this same thing.  She will take off on the golf cart out into the pasture with her Iphone and headphones and sing as if she is trying to push her tunes high up to the Heavens.  I can sit on the porch and hear the echoes of her freedom ringing in the air.  In those moments, she TOO, is experiencing, what I can only describe as FREEDOM. Beautiful, flawless freedom.

Yesterday, I was sitting outside my kid’s school waiting for the bell to ring when the music teacher brought her 4th graders outside to learn a new song in the fresh fall air.  The class paired up, and most of the kids were singing their hearts out.  I cannot even remember the song – but I can remember watching the freedom, the safety, the comfort these 9 year olds felt with their own voice.  Their confidence that has not yet been stolen.

It.  Was.  Beautiful. 

And while this was going on, my 5-year-old – completely unaware that there was 30 4th graders in near proximity was chatting to herself and dancing.

And then, there was me.  Sitting on the bench, worried that I had a booger hanging out of my nose – and concerned that all ‘these people’ (who I could really give two shits about) were seeing me in my ‘not so nice’ sweatpants and hoodie, without make-up.  (The Horror RIGHT!)

The song in my head was one that was the polar opposite of freedom. The dance of my body was closed, and SAFE.  And guarded.

There comes an age when singing and dancing become lost arts.  There comes a time in life when we become self-conscious, and embarrassed, and insecure.  There comes a time when we silence our songs, and disturb the natural rhythm of our bodies to dance and move to the tune of how we feel.

Rather than simply react, live in the moment, give in to how we feel – we navigate, control and try to remain politically correct.  After all, if I stood outside the school dancing and twirling around, singing Cold Hearted, at the top of my lungs, there’s a good chance that the people with straight jackets might show up to take me away.

Slowly but surely, I am seeing less cartwheels and curious spins and singing and FREEDOM from my children as they grow up.  Even though I have always tried to encourage their freedom and confidence, the world is slowly but surely chipping away at their freedom.  And seriously, how sad is that?

One of these days, I am going to reclaim my freedom and record myself singing and dancing and then post it to You-Tube. (Don’t hold your breath!) And I wont worry about how much ya’ll will laugh at me, but will instead try to catch just a moment of real, true and honest freedom.

When is the last time you truly felt FREEDOM?

 

What Do Bumbo & Momspirational Have in Common? Lessons in Common Sense and Responsibility

We’re both being sued.  :(

Okay, let me clarify.  Momspirational is not being suedAnd I am personally, not really – in the see-you-in-court-and-take-all-your-money sense of being sued, being sued. 

But a crazy lady who lives up the street from me, did have an attorney (Who I think is probably a friend of hers, although I cannot imagine this lady has friends) send me a demand letter for $85.00.

Here’s the scoop?  On July 4th  - just as I was about to leave the house to attend a parade that my children were in, a 60ish old crabby lady came riding down my street on her bike.

Realize that my street has no shoulder, no sidewalks, and is literally caressed with woods on every side of the road.  People drive like 80mph down my street, and there are some pretty bad turns by my house where people have been killed in accidents.  (Probably trying to avoid idiots who ride their bikes on this part of the road)

We happen to live on 67 acres of this land.  And when she rode her bike down the street, my dogs – doing what dogs do….barked.  And barked.  And barked.   (The mean and aggressive dog that I own was barking from inside his dog pen because we have to keep him locked up)

So idiot does what any sensible person does, right?

She leaps off her bike right in front of my house, in my driveway in fact – un-holsters her BEAR spray (Yes,BEARS PRAY) and sprays our huge, but amazingly friendly Great Pyrenees.

Only, the plan backfires, and the spray hits the wind and hits her instead.  She called an ambulance and the police.  The police called animal control.  Meanwhile, Gator (My Great Pyrenees is nowhere to be found), and I am standing in the road with a crazy, and I mean C.R.A.Z.Y person.

So, now months later – she is suing me for $85, for damages to her bike and likely to replace her $62 bottle of BEAR spray.

Okay – no big deal, right?  I am reasonable person – and I will pay crazy her $85, because my dog frightened her and made her spray herself with Bear Spray. I understand that had she not been afraid of my dog, she wouldn’t have sprayed herself with Bear Spray – and subsequently damaged her bike. I also understand that our Great Pyrenees is like 130 pounds and could be perceived as threat.  I get all of that!

My QUESTION IS – Whatever happened to common sense, responsibility and courtesy?

First of all, we only live a few miles apart.  We are ‘neighbors.’ right?

Even while she was OFFENDING me in my own driveway by acting as if my home, where I LIVE with my family, was the scummiest place she has ever laid eyes on, I offered to take her and her ‘alleged’ broken bike home.

I apologized profusely and even tried to offer her advice about better places in the area to ride a bicycle.  Certainly, if you feel the need to troll around with bear spray, you might be on the wrong road, right?  (BTW – No Bears here in western Georgia).

I explained that I personally wouldn’t walk, ride, or run down our road because there are dogs, and deer, and wolves and coyotes everywhere – just waiting to take a bite or scare the hell out of CRAZY people.  (Her response – was that she should be able to ride her bike where she damn pleased)  So watch out for this crazy person on the interstate, where she might likely be riding next.  

I told her on the spot that I would be glad to pay for damages (okay, well not GLAD, but you know the spiel), while she threw her finger in my face – almost touching my nose and actually slinging a little spit -spewing lies and hate.  I composed myself despite the fact that this woman thought she was better than me in nearly every way a human can be better.  

I gave CRAZY my phone number.

So, why doesn’t CRAZY just call me and tell me that she has a receipt and that she wants me to pay her for ‘damages?’  Why get a nasty lawyer, who didn’t even graduate from an accredited law school to send me a letter?  Why not handle herself like an adult and assume FIRST that I will be a responsible and reasonable adult.  Then, if I don’t – hire a lawyer.  And honestly, what lawyer can you retain for damage claims of $85.

Same thing with Bumbo.  I personally loved the Bumbo seats. (No, they aren’t paying me to say this)

My kids never got hurt using one, because I never left them on countertops or near fireplaces, or decided to go in another room and have sex with my husband while my infant was in a Bumbo seat.

Let’s be real – when you got a little baby, the potential for danger is literally everywhere.  Which is precisely why – everything baby comes with the SUPERVISION REQUIRED warning.  Common sense says don’t use a Bumbo in the bathtub – don’t use it as a car-seat, don’t leave your child on a tabletop, or put the Bumbo on the countertop RIGHT next to the stove while you are frying chicken.

Where the heck has common sense and simple decency and RESPONSIBILITY gone?

Do McDonalds and Starbucks; really need to put a disclaimer on hot chocolate and coffee that warns people that the contents are hot?  (You’d be pissed if you ordered hot coffee and it was cold, right?)  Do people who have horses really need a sign that reminds people that horses can be dangerous creatures hanging on their barn?  Does Wal-Mart really need to continue printing “Suffocation hazard” on plastic bags?

Apparently, they do.  Because people are freaking crazy. And the world is full of idiots with no common sense.

I whole heartedly believe in the laws of attraction, and that we somehow get back what we put out there in this world.  So of course I have to wonder what it is about ME – that attracted Crazy.  Being treated like a piece of trash by her and her so-called attorney, really hurt my feelings even though I am joking about it now.  Maybe it was simply another urge from the universe to use my voice rather than always take the ‘high road.’  (I still havent figured it out!)

But I would have NEVER in a million years, treated another human this way.  If my baby toppled over in a Bumbo seat, I would never sue the company.  I would take responsibility and use my common sense.

It’s simple, treat others as you would like to be treated.  Why is that becoming so hard for people to do these days?

This is exactly why as bad as I want to pay CRAZY her $85 in pennies delivered via a 5 gallon bucket filled with manure at the bottom, I won’t do that.  (Even though it would be considered legal tender – I checked)

Anyone got answers for this one?

 

 

Crap in a Can

I will admit, there is nothing Mom-Spirational about this post.  In fact, its embarrassing – and is likely one of those events in my children’s lives that will forever screw them up in the heads.  I just hope they don’t talk about it at my funeral, because it would NOT make a good eulogy.

First a little prologue.  I live in a place without school buses.  Like, seriously 20 people (And I am related to some of them) live on my street and its several miles long.  We don’t even have cable.  Or internet.  The closest Wal-Mart is in a shitty little town that smells like mold 17 miles away.  And this same ‘town’ is where my children go to school.  So, I have to drive my kids to school every day, and then go back and pick them up in the afternoons. Every morning, we leave the house at 7am, which  means in order to get coffee in, make 4 school lunches, help with hair and breakfast and remember to put on a bra (Which BTW is apparently optional in the shitty little town) - I have to get up pretty early.  But listen, coffee is important to me  and definitely worth getting up for.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending how you look at it), coffee is also a bit of a laxative, which is another reason that I get up early.  This way, when the coffee craps hit me, I am still at home.  Normally, I go running into our ONE and only,  bathroom with my pants half way down, while one of my kids is straightening her hair or brushing her teeth and just let it loose.  (This annoys the kids, but I think its funny as hell – payback for all those diapers of theirs that I have changed)

One morning, we were running late.  My morning coffee had percolated just in time for me to grab it and fly out the door. No biggie, I thought – I would drink it on the way.  B.I.G.  M.I.S.T.A.K.E. (Can you see where this is going?)

The coffee craps hit me halfway through our ride to shit town.  And let me tell you, there is absolutely NOWHERE TO STOP and use the bathroom on the way to shit town.  I started sweating. Profusely.  I thought I might throw up. Maybe, I could hold it until I got to Piggly Wiggly which was pretty close to their school I thought for a moment.  But the Piggly Wiggly bathroom is all the way in the back of the store, behind the butcher shop, and I knew by the sweaty palms and stomach cramps that there was no way I would make it  all the way through the store to the bathroom.  Plus, I didn’t have shoes on.  I wasn’t using a public restroom barefoot.  It was one of those moments, where if I farted to let some of the pressure off, I just knew I was going to shart in my pants.

So I pulled over. On the side of the road. (Actually I skidded over as if I was avoiding a squirrel).   The kids were screaming.  One was crying.  “Mama, what are you doing - we are going to be late?”  Another had her hands over her eyes and ears like she had just seen Freddy Kreuger pop out from the drivers seat.  There were woods all around me and I imagined coyotes or bobcats or bears lurking in the woods.  And how pray tell would I hide my ass from passing traffic?  No way I was shitting in the woods.  No flipping way.

Quick Gracie, give me that trashcan,” I hollered with tears in my eyes and sweat my brow, pants already half way down.  I had just bought a trash can for the bathroom the day before and it was still in the car.  (Thank GOD!)

“Mama!!!  NO!”  The girls were disgusted as I climbed in the back seat (tinted windows back there) and quickly crapped in a can.  (Believe me, by this point it DID NOT take long at all!)

I can still to this day, see their faces.  They were mortified.  As they were looking at me and holding their noses while I was seated over a small circular white bathroom trash can crapping my brains out, it struck me.  What in the hell am I going to wipe with?

“Gracie” (she was the only one laughing at this point and not completely hating me – “Hand me that sock!” She looked behind her and handed me the bright yellow softball sock that my daughter had worn to practice the day before.  “MAMA NO WAY, THAT’S MY SOCK” my oldest daughter protested.  I told her not to worry that I would buy her another one.  One of my other kids, (who will apparently be a truancy officer when she grows up) was still worried about being late.  (We werent by the way!)

Then, in what could be the only solution at a time like this, I slid open the van door and gently set out the brand new white trash can filled with crap and the sock I used to wipe with on the side of the road.  I sure as hell was not riding around with it for the rest of the morning.  And we were BACK on our way to school.    The kids didnt even talk to me the rest of the ride.  Except for Gracie, she was 4 and thought this was the funniest thing ever.  “Mama crapped in a can, Mama crapped in a can, Mamaaaa Crapppped in a can” she sang.

For days – every time we passed that spot, the white trashcan was still there.  One morning, we saw a dog sniffing around it.  And about a week later, the inmates were picking up trash on the side of the road in the exact vicinity  By the time I came back by, the can was gone.

But my kids, have NEVER forgotten this moment.  Every time we pass that spot (which is daily) they say, “This is where Mama crapped in a can!”  And their faces fill with the same disgust that I remember from that day. 

Lesson here.  If you must drink coffee in the morning, make sure you have time to use the bathroom before leaving the house.  And definitely avoid the coffee altogether on the first day of your periods.

AND, most importantly…..when you are in the middle of  nowhere on your way to shit town, have a plan in place (or a can) in case the coffee craps hit you.  (And PLEASE carry toilet paper around in your glove box)

Of all this shits I have taken in my life – I have to say that this was the most epic. 

 

Shut the Hell UP! (Please)

It’s 8pm.  And so far today, I havent experienced five seconds of quiet.  The first thing I heard this morning when I woke up was an alarm clock beeping in my right ear.  And everything from that point forward has had me wishing, hoping, praying even – that my ears would be silenced for just a few minutes. Even the bathroom isn’t a suitable escape.

One of the things that no one ever told me about motherhood was how noisy it is.  The kids are always making noise.  They crave noise – which to me is an utter distraction to the peace that exists in my head.  They are listening to music, singing, asking questions, talking, bickering, all out arguing, watching television, playing games on their Ipods,while I am suffering from noise overload.

‘Right now, Spongebob’s voice is driving me insane in the background and my phone is making annoying twittles to alert me that someone, or something needs me. It’s 8pm people!  just go away already!

The last time I heard silence, was last week when tornadoes ripped through a town just a few miles north of where I live.  In the moments before the storm, I sat huddled with my kids watching the funnel cloud and hoping that it would miss my house.  And in that moment, the entire world around me was hushed of sound – or even air.  But dammit, I couldn’t enjoy it then because I was scared out of my gourd. 

So the noise, the sounds….continue.  I have to admit that there are moments when I wish everyone would just be quiet for 5 minutes.

But I also know that in the silence will probably come loneliness.  So for today I fore-go the urges to tell everyone to shut the hell up and I listen. Intently and sometimes with admitted annoyance at the sounds of my life.

Smudge

From where I stand as I do my dishes I can see a green pasture that blooms with yellow weeds.  Pecan trees drape the soft fence line and pine trees seem to grow so tall they touch the sky.  In the summer the pasture is filled with wild blackberry bushes and bumble bees.  Cows occasionally stroll through my looking glass and seem to offer just enough excitement for me to happily get through with my chores.  Just the other day, my window to the world had a great big smudge.

I have no idea how it got there (4 kids in the house) but I do know that it distracted me to the point of emotional irritation.  As I tend to be obsessive compulsive when it comes to the cleanliness of my home, I felt an edginess stirring within that I could not shake.

As a test to the endurance of my mind I decided to leave the smudge.  I told myself that it wouldn’t bother me; it wouldn’t keep me from my writing or hold my attention that long.  I had complete intention to let it go.  I would forego the usual routines of cleaning the environmental chaos from my home.  That is a difficult task in and of itself, to just let things go, but I decided that I must use my knowledge of the mind to let this one go as well.  After all, it is just a smudge, a harmless mark of dirty hands upon the window of my world.  I did after all have the power to decide how I wanted to see it.

Several days later, the smudge still there I started to become restless.  When I walked in the room my eyes immediately darted to the smudge.  It seemed bigger.  When I vacuumed I would think about cleaning the smudge. As I toiled with my dishes, I no longer the noticed what was outside my window, just the great big ugly smudge.  As I cooked I noticed the smudge.  I would sit down to try and write or read and the smudge would cross my mind.  Each time I tried to not think about the smudge, I was thinking about the smudge.  This may seem silly, but I was determined, intent in fact on ignoring the smudge.  I had to see if I could do it.  If I couldn’t ignore a little, well big smudge on my window then how could I ever ignore more prudent things that would eventually manifest themselves into illness or grief.  I believe the importance of invoking good thoughts to be able to receive the abundance of well being.

For nights I went to bed babies in my arms and the image of the smudge crept into my mind.  I would drive my kids to school and think about how I would ignore the smudge when I got back home. Some days I just stayed out. I woke up several times in the middle of the night for a drink and my mind went immediately to the stained window in my kitchen.  It was maddening!  I began to feel like a failure as a student in life.  I began to feel that I was powerless to control my thoughts.  One negative reaction led to another negative thought and the process seemed to continue.  I became tired and I became irritated.  One day, I could hold it in no longer and talked to a friend about my smudge. She looked at me rather perplexed and quite abruptly said, “so clean it off the window already, do you need some Windex or something?” I was stunned.  In disbelief I stood there.  I wondered if I could really do that, could I really simply clean it up and be done with the smudge forever? The paper towels and Windex were sitting under the sink; they had been there all along.

That same day, I cleaned the smudge off my window.  I began to see the cows again.  I noticed that pecans were falling off the trees and that the wind seemed to be blowing the tall grass in swirls.  A squirrel was gathering nuts.  A deer appeared near the fence and ate the green pasture grass, its little white tail bobbing behind her.  The sun sparkled off the grass and little orbs of glowing balls seemed to shoot from the tops of the pine trees.  I got my dishes done without notice.  My mood changed and my intention shifted to my writing, to my family, to my sleeping, to all the things that I love.  I felt really good!

Most of us have a smudge or two on the windows of our life.  I realized that not only is it normal to notice them, it is healthy to clean them up before they manifest into mighty dark spots that shield our eyes and heavy our spirits.  The intention of the deliberate mind should not be on ignoring or controlling that which bothers us; but rather on the careful attention to how our thoughts are making us feel.  My intention to not think about the smudge, led to the smudge to be all I thought about.  This is true with most things in life.  The smudges may present themselves in different shapes and forms, but it is our attention to them that heightens their capacity to become a part of us.  If we can clean it, if we can wipe it away with a simple stroke of the hand then I say we should.  Smudge will take on the power we give to it.  The sooner it is gone, the sooner we can be mindful of the things in life that bring us closer to the light.  The looking glass will seem sharper, clearer and our view will be an optimal extension of soul.

Closing the Cereal Box

 

It never fails.  The pie safe in my kitchen that I use for extra storage space is always a mess.  The doors are left randomly open, and the contents inside the cabinet is most often an utter mess.

I have told, asked, even begged my daughters to close the cereal box when they are done.  After all, an open box of cereal turns into a stale box of cereal in no time, right?  Plus, it’s a simple request

It’s a life skill. 

When they are on their own I don’t want them wasting tons of money on cereal and chips because they were never taught how to properly close the boxes and bags.  I realize there will come a time in their life when they will be living on cereal, sustaining themselves on the cheapest and sweetest brand they can find, eating it at midnight – often without milk. I remember those days myself.

But instead of listening to me and taking 5 extra seconds to seal off the cereal (from the inside of the box out), or roll down the bag of Doritos…they just throw it back in the pie safe.  Time, and time again.

So this morning when I found yet another cereal box left opened, and stale I busted into the living room and showed them in a full and sarcastic display how to close the cereal box properly.  I pointed my finger, used my stern mom voice. 

And when I was through, one of my daughters asked me if I was about to start my period or something while the other simply said, “OMG MOM, what’s the big deal?”

What’s the big deal?  WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?  “If you cannot close a damn cereal box, how will you ever make it in life?  If I cant trust you to close the cereal box, how am I going to trust you to go away for an entire week with your class?  If I cant count on you to be responsible enough to close a cereal box, how in the world am I going to trust you enough to let you drive a car by yourself?”

If you aren’t able to close a stupid cereal box – how am I ever going to be able to let you go?”

And then there were tears.  Mine. 

It turns out that I was about to start my period, but that’s not the point really.  The point is I really needed to see small steps in the right direction.  I needed to know that my kids have been hearing me – not just about the cereal box, but about everything else.  I wanted to believe that I was doing a good job raising them, and that their encroaching adult hood would be healthy, happy and successful. (And somehow in that moment, it all depended on the cereal box)

Today, I woke up to a closed pie safe.  When I looked inside, the cereal boxes were closed as well. And somehow, it felt painfully bitter sweet.

The Invisible Mother

Admit it. When you are a mom,it is easy to feel invisible. Completely, 100% invisible. Somedays, I truly believe that the kids would not even realize I was missing until dinnertime, when their bellies started to grumble. then, they would look around and wonder where in the hell that woman is who normally fixes the food.

One of the most difficult parts of motherhood is the invisibility. Most of the time, i am perfectly happy to sit on the bench, to be in the bleachers watching my kids. But every once in a while I honestly think that it would be nice to be noticed. Noticed for my hair. Noticed for the things I do for the kids. Noticed for being something besides a wife or a mother. Noticed for being a person.

To date, my biggest accomplishment is my girls. They are pretty wonderful when they arent insane. Seriously. But all the while I have been raising my girls, I have also had dreams of my own. And these dreams always seem invisible under the visibility of my kids.

Am I okay with this? Yes. But still, there are many days that I would just like to be noticed. Not even appreciated, (okay so maybe appreciated) but noticed for ME, not for my motherhood.

And My Baby Turns 5

Sitting back in recollection, it is hard to believe that my baby….my youngest child….has just turned 5.  There is the bittersweet tinge that makes me realize she is growing up, but also confronts with the question of “What the hell have I been doing for 5 years?”

In fact, my goals 5 years ago when she was born, are much like the goals that I have now.  And while she has grown, gained weight, learned her letters, potty trained, etc. etc.  I have been sitting back basking in HER accomplishments.

It’s hard to truly understand how much time it takes to raise a child.  You think that in the course of a 24 hour day, a 7 day week, a 31 ay month – there would be plenty of time for the stay at home mom to pursue her own dreams.  The problem is that life is always distracted when you are a mother.

You may start out with the best of intentions, only to realize that 7 hours have passed and aside from making a few meals, checking Facebook. status updates, and sweeping the floors – not much else has transpired.

But who cares about all that for right now?  My baby is 5 years old.  She is half a decade.  And she is growing up way too fast.  Somehow the knowing that I have devoted so much time and effort to her growth and development, seems like a plausible success to me.  Considering that I have three other kids, also growing up, that are well cared for and loved – means that I am doing something….something right.  Right?

I would rather sit back knowing that I have enjoyed my children’s sunshine the most – even on the days when the sun never showed, than to sit back and think that I have personally succeeded in spite of their light.  Today….that is enough for me. 

Teach a Child to Fish

One of my readers over at www.planningfamily.com, sparked today’s post.  But I think it is a good one, and worth sharing.  Just because our children are small, does not mean we should render them helpless.  And hey, what mama out there couldn’t use the help!

Take a look, and let us know what you think!

http://www.planningfamily.com/blog/teach-a-child-to-fish/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=FacebookWall&utm_term=teach-a-child-to-fish