WONDEROAK

Over the years I have had many observations made about my life with four kids. Usually it’s a “WOOOW you sure have your hands full”, “You are BUSY” or “I’m glad those are yours and not mine, hahahahaha”. (Not like an evil “haha” – more scared, like my fertility might be contagious.)

That’s why I’m ordering a triple espresso, and a quarter of my right leg is shaved, my friend.

I really don’t mind, they are well-meaning and I like talking to adult people whenever possible. Unless, you know, the kids are having a collective meltdown. Then I might try and wilt said adults with fire from my eyeballs. (Sorry about that.)

Besides the slightly terrified observations I’ve heard, I’ve also had many twenty-somethings share their dream of the day they can Freaky Friday into my world. I’m flattered because I like my life.

I have often wondered though, what exactly are they picturing?

So I have put together a list of things I think they imagine…

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I spend endless time Facebooking, working on an Etsy shop and watching my favorite shows. 

When you say “time”, if you mean hiding in the bathroom while someone bangs on the door and yells my name 45 times in a row, then Girlfriend…grab your slippers and your Nicholas Sparks and prepare to chillax.

The Facebook thing is a little true. But do you know why? Because Facebook requires zero amount of brain power. And in case you were wondering, that’s exactly how much brain I have left.

Having girls is going to be like playing dress up every day. 

I had four years with just boys, and I’m not going to lie, I thought this. When I was pregnant with my first female, I spent time pinning braid-blogs and reading things like “2700 NEW hair styles to try with your toddler”.

Then my girls grew hair.

And now they wake up each morning with gorgeous knot sculptures. It’s like the Rubiks Cube of hair brushing. Turns out I should create my own pin called “747 ways to make your kid cry while attempting to calm the beast”.

As far as being a child-stylist, my adorable and creative daughter usually comes out looking like this…

Love her.

I know what I’m doing. 

Nope. Just when I think I’ve got these people nailed down, they go ahead and grow. It’s cray cray up in here.

I’m never overwhelmed.

If I’m out and about I probably have a triple Americano or a glass of wine in my hand. Lets be honest…that’s my best look.

There are definitely hilariously awesome moments, rocking out with my kids to Megan Trainor and Macklemore, but, let me be the first to tell you, I get overwhelmed. Anxiety and worry are knocking at my door all the time. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose.

What is that quote? “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.”(Meg Cabot)

For me that is motherhood. It’s showing up in spite of my fear that I will fail or that something beyond my control will go wrong. It’s choosing love and knowing that in the end love conquers every fear.

I don’t ever have to wear real clothes.

This may or may not be true. My at-home/shopping/everywhere uniform is often an “adorable” combination of ‘stretchy’ on ‘stretchy’. However, when I do arrive at a “jean-day”, I feel unexpectedly angry. Denim is a real shock to the system after spandex.

I always look like this. 

I have a certain “look” if I’ve made it all the way into town (15 minutes away). That look is called dressed. And (usually) there’s some makeup involved. Not only do I not always look like this, but I also had to forgo cleaning up the egg smeared into the table in order to put on mascara.

I once heard someone joke about being a “stay at home model”. Yes, a model for seven-year-old sweat pants and dark under-eye circles.

Having kids is like babysitting. 

First of all, if you’re babysitting my kids, both my sons are in love with you and both my girls think you’re going to give them ice cream. So…there’s that.

Then there is the constant-constant. These people have me on 24 hr. room service. Plus, I don’t remember the dishes screaming at me when I babysat. The dishes, the crumbs, the clutter – is like a fog horn in the background of a really great song. So rude.

The kids though. Being there for all the cute (as well as all the not-cute), there’s nothing like it.

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So, to the ones that want my life. I’m honored, I think you’ll probably love it (I do).

There ARE the moments you daydream about, snuggling and baking cookies…

Just know that when you snuggle, there will probably be a very full and pungent diaper making your eyes water..and when you bake, flour will cover every surface of your house as well as the inside of your bra.

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P.S. I have had some readers recently wonder if I think the SAHM Mom is harder working or superior to the working mom. My answer is NEVER, nor do I believe for a second it’s the “higher way”. The only reason I write from that perspective is because, currently, it’s what I’m living.

I salute my working mom friends – mommin’ aint easy – you are amazing!

Love you all, keep on – keepin’ on!