While usually we are being quaint and adorable like a live Norman Rockwell painting, there are a few other things that get us from WHYGODWHY in the morning to Netflix-O’clock at night.
We clean things so they can be destroyed right exactly before you drop by. I don’t mean to brag, but my kids are capable of making my house a major health code violation in ten seconds flat. Sometimes I think about posting pictures of what my house looks like when it’s clean – just for reference.
Welcome to my home. Here is a picture of what my house looked like one time last week. It could also look like this more often if I had 47 maids and manservants.
Dear First Born,
I remember the day I first held you in my arms. You became, and I also became. I’d thought about motherhood for a long time, about how I’d be and how you’d be. But I was still so unprepared. Heaven and Earth kissed for a moment and I’d never felt so sure and so uncertain all at the same time.
I know you think I wear yoga pants and athletic-T’s because I spend my days doing pilates while my kids practice Mozart on their harmonicas. But, I’m here to tell you, I wear them because they’re stretchy.
I remember back when I was a perfect parent. It was around the same time I thought that parachute pants were an excellent fashion choice. It was also when I was going to save the last dance with Sean Patrick Lewis and have his perfect babies.
Did I mention I was not yet a mother?
No one told me that you have to do all that “perfect” parenting at the same time as children are yelling, shrieking, and jumping naked on your couch cushions that you fluff up 5,000 times a day.
They are just so loud you guys.
I sat down and mapped out a life plan, and so far it looks like I will be late for approximately 15 more years.
I’m so excited about my newest post for Motherly, because, FOR REALZZZ.
Mornings before kids:
1. Get self ready.
2. Get self in car.
1. Wake up children.
2. Go to the kitchen to start breakfast.
3. Hear no noise from children.
4. Holler at children every 30 seconds.
5. All appear, except one. Your future seems bright, you keep hollering.
6. You hear last child thrashing and grunting violently. This is the worst moment of his life.
7. Child finally emerges. It is unclear if he is human or zombie.
8. Child sits on couch.
9. Child becomes one with the couch.
10. You call frantically to them while making eggs: “Shoes!” “Hair!” “Clothes!”
11. Child stares into space.
Read more at Motherly…
Yesterday at Target I stood in line behind a Mom with two screaming kids. One clung to her leg while the other, a brand new baby, wailed from her arms.
I am not used to being the one who is not the parent of the screaming child. This was uncharted territory.
This weekend I got to experience magic. One of my best friends invited me and a few others to be there for the birth of her first baby. I’ve never seen birth – except my own.
It was magic. Birth is magic. It is terrible, it is messy, and it is brilliant. After 24 hours of hard labor and zero results, my friend had gotten a epidural. She cracked jokes as she nibbled graham crackers between pushing contractions. What a bad ass. She was so strong and so powerful…I have never seen her so beautiful. Her husband stroked her head and held her hand as she used all her strength to bring new life into the world.
When we first got married I was so excited to do EVERYTHING together. I couldn’t wait. I worked at a coffee shop and I told a friend of mine that I was even going to start working with Graham (as a self-employed window washer). “This is a terrible idea.” he said.
I’m not sure if it was my inability to clean things, or the fact that I wanted to spend 24 hours a day with only one person that tipped him off.
Sometimes I teach my kids things that I did not intend to teach them. Sometimes this is an extra bonus, like when I accidentally taught my oldest child to be extremely bossy. I pretend to hate this, but really it’s like getting a third parent for free.
I’m half-heartedly retraining him to be a child.
It is completely not working.
Yesterday we took Oaklee to her first day of Kindergarten. I had been thinking for weeks about that day. I had been thinking about her zest for life, her joy, and her silliness. I had been thinking about her incredibly pure and kind heart.
She is such a treasure, as all kids are.
Maybe you’re sitting on a stool in your kitchen right now, surveying the damage from breakfast. You look in bewilderment at what appears to be the remnants of a crumb monsoon. You stare at your cup of coffee, looking for the answers to life’s questions. About that time, your kids run past you. They tear around the living room leaving a wake of toys, books, and unidentified underwear. They are screaming in decibels your mind cannot compute.
“MOM!!!” they shout in pure glee, “Can we have a SNACK???”
Now before I start this, let me just tell you, I’ve been running for 3 months. I am similar to that lady who ranted on Facebook about how parenting isn’t an excuse to not shower and have crumbs under the couch– and she has exactly one 2-week-old infant. We’ve all been collectively giggling while we sip our wine, and fist bumping thinking of toddlers running through Cheerrios on her freshly vacuumed carpet. I was thinking of emailing her to see if she could come shave my legs for me.