If you love to feel guilty, become a mother! I don't know if it's just the day and age we live in that produces these feelings, or if mothers since the beginning of time have dealt with this. It's this sort of nagging feeling that no matter what you do, you're probably screwing up your child in some way, shape or form.
I noticed this phenomena almost as soon as my daughter was born. There are not only opinions about how to feed, clothe and love a child, there are studies, data and evidence to back up many different sides to any given argument. There are also studies discrediting the original studies, data and evidence- as well as any doctors, authors and scientists involved in completion of said studies.
There are then studies and data to prove the "discreditors" biased and wrong-as well as to show that the discreditors of the discreditors have an uber-evil ulterior motive for attempting to discredit the discreditors. For every study and experiment I read, there are books, testimonials, websites, links and professionals involved to explain the research and findings, resulting in their camp coming to the correct conclusion. Then someone posts their opinion as a status update on Facebook and the world almost ends!
I really am somewhat perturbed that all the mothers of the world haven't been able to put their heads together and come up with some sort of a handbook to hand out every time someone has a baby; something titled "Everything you need to know about child rearing in every possible situation and circumstance life can possibly throw at you."
As it stands, no such book exists, so I am left to wonder if Crewe's entire future is doomed because he is 20 months old and cannot yet count to ten.
When I say, "Let's count, Crewe," he gets a big grin on his face and proclaims, "Twooo"!!! Don't get me wrong- he says it with so much enthusiasm and joy that it's completely adorable! He'll actually go as high as three, which is also quite adorable. I'm counting "1..2..3..4..5.."and he's going, "twoo!, free!, twoo!, free!"...it's hilarious!
But then I flash to some image in his future- he's sitting across the desk from the dean at some wonderful ivy league school, and the dean says, "I'm sorry son, your cognitive math skills are not up to par for admittance into our wonderful ivy league school. Let me ask you something- did your mother teach you to count to ten by the time you were 20 months old?"
Then Crewe will sadly say, "No sir...no she didn't. She didn't teach me to count past free." Guilt.
Even if we could work out the counting issues, I still feel a sense of motherhood guilt that I'm probably messing something up for Ayla. I mean, when we play hide-n-seek, she always hides in the same spot! What does this mean?! There's probably an entire book about this very issue; written by some powerful and prominent child psychologist, with data and evidence proving hinderance to her emotional, physical and mental well being if she doesn't learn to hide in different spots.
However, the very fact that the book is probably in existence means that there will surely be another book or article discrediting the research and findings, as well as a third party to discredit the original discreditors data and evidence. Yikes.
The bottom line is that I want the best for my kids and "the mom in my mind" had far more answers on parenting issues big and small than what I do in reality. Hopefully by the time they're teenagers, I'll have it all figured out. Lol!!
In the meantime, Ayla is hiding, so Crewe and I are going to count to "free" and go find her. I have a feeling she's hiding in her closet.....
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Make-Up, Mirrors And Me
Someone once told me I look like Eva Longoria. Once. And let me tell you I have hung on to that like...well,..like something you really want to hang on to! I get it. We're both petite. We both have brown hair and brown eyes. So probably if you squint while you're standing about a half-mile away, I might resemble Eva Longoria. Hey, I'll take it! Who wouldn't love to look like Eva? My biggest problem with believing this compliment, is that I have mirrors in my home.
So here we go- What does "The mom in my mind" look like? Well, I guess it's Eva Longoria. And not just Eva Longoria- it's Eva on the cover of 'Cosmo', wearing stilettos, standing in some awkward position, looking directly into the camera, with a sexy "deer caught in the headlights" kind of expression. Apparently, the mom in my mind is in a constant state of "pose". Now my dear reader, please know that I know, this is a completely ridiculous expectation! For one thing, the kids and I spend the majority of our days in and out of a kiddie pool in our back yard just trying to cope with the 1000 degree Tennessee heat. Between Ayla giving me "swimming lessons" and the two of us working on her mastery of potty training, there's not a whole lot of time for stilettos and posing.
The mom I am in reality is slightly more "desperate housewife" than "Eva Longoria" these days. Now, don't get me wrong, with a small arsenal of make-up, a magnified mirror, a powerful blow dryer, a lot of prayer, a little luck and the right lighting,... I manage to look presentable some times. Oh...I know, I know, "True beauty comes from the inside", and "You're beautiful just the way you are". (By the way, you have to read those last two lines in a high squeaky voice to get the intended sarcasm.) (Go ahead...go back and read them in a high squeaky voice.)
I am aware that "true beauty comes from the inside" -and what not and what not and blah, blah, blah- but the bottom line is...well the bottom line is that I like me some make-up. It takes me from "black and white" to "color". I am also well aware of what I look like pre-primp and what I look like post-primp, and I simply prefer the latter. It's not much deeper than that.
I'm always amazed at how completely adorable my children are without any effort. In fact often, when I attempt to tame their appearance, I make it worse! I'm sure every parent can relate to the absolute perfection that is their child's slightly disheveled hair and smile. They're amazing! So, sometimes after quickly wiping my children's faces and running a comb through their hair, I think I can get away with equally minimal effort on my own appearance...and then I look in the mirror. It's usually at this point that I panic and want to call out to my husband, "There's no hope! Just go on without me! I don't have the tools for this kind of overhaul!" I just know that if I were to leave my house looking like this, it would be pandemonium. I envision children screaming and pointing. Mothers covering their babies eyes, instructing them firmly not to look directly at it!
But luckily, my arsenal of make-up and hair care products helps me get to the point where I can finally mutter, "Well I'm not completely homely." (By the way- someone also called me homely before.)
Now I'm sure that anyone who loves me would say that I'm beautiful "just the way I am", but let me assure you that the difference between me with make-up and without, is night and day. I would post a picture to prove it but there's probably no one there to cover your eyes and tell you not to look directly at it.
So, as my children grow, I will make sure they know that they are amazing and beautiful simply because of who they are. I will attempt to teach them things like kindness, confidence, and a good work ethic. But most importantly, I will never take for granted a good eye-liner, lip gloss or my Mac foundation!
Have a good week out there all you gorgeous people! You're beautiful just the way you are!
So here we go- What does "The mom in my mind" look like? Well, I guess it's Eva Longoria. And not just Eva Longoria- it's Eva on the cover of 'Cosmo', wearing stilettos, standing in some awkward position, looking directly into the camera, with a sexy "deer caught in the headlights" kind of expression. Apparently, the mom in my mind is in a constant state of "pose". Now my dear reader, please know that I know, this is a completely ridiculous expectation! For one thing, the kids and I spend the majority of our days in and out of a kiddie pool in our back yard just trying to cope with the 1000 degree Tennessee heat. Between Ayla giving me "swimming lessons" and the two of us working on her mastery of potty training, there's not a whole lot of time for stilettos and posing.
The mom I am in reality is slightly more "desperate housewife" than "Eva Longoria" these days. Now, don't get me wrong, with a small arsenal of make-up, a magnified mirror, a powerful blow dryer, a lot of prayer, a little luck and the right lighting,... I manage to look presentable some times. Oh...I know, I know, "True beauty comes from the inside", and "You're beautiful just the way you are". (By the way, you have to read those last two lines in a high squeaky voice to get the intended sarcasm.) (Go ahead...go back and read them in a high squeaky voice.)
I am aware that "true beauty comes from the inside" -and what not and what not and blah, blah, blah- but the bottom line is...well the bottom line is that I like me some make-up. It takes me from "black and white" to "color". I am also well aware of what I look like pre-primp and what I look like post-primp, and I simply prefer the latter. It's not much deeper than that.
I'm always amazed at how completely adorable my children are without any effort. In fact often, when I attempt to tame their appearance, I make it worse! I'm sure every parent can relate to the absolute perfection that is their child's slightly disheveled hair and smile. They're amazing! So, sometimes after quickly wiping my children's faces and running a comb through their hair, I think I can get away with equally minimal effort on my own appearance...and then I look in the mirror. It's usually at this point that I panic and want to call out to my husband, "There's no hope! Just go on without me! I don't have the tools for this kind of overhaul!" I just know that if I were to leave my house looking like this, it would be pandemonium. I envision children screaming and pointing. Mothers covering their babies eyes, instructing them firmly not to look directly at it!
But luckily, my arsenal of make-up and hair care products helps me get to the point where I can finally mutter, "Well I'm not completely homely." (By the way- someone also called me homely before.)
Now I'm sure that anyone who loves me would say that I'm beautiful "just the way I am", but let me assure you that the difference between me with make-up and without, is night and day. I would post a picture to prove it but there's probably no one there to cover your eyes and tell you not to look directly at it.
So, as my children grow, I will make sure they know that they are amazing and beautiful simply because of who they are. I will attempt to teach them things like kindness, confidence, and a good work ethic. But most importantly, I will never take for granted a good eye-liner, lip gloss or my Mac foundation!
Have a good week out there all you gorgeous people! You're beautiful just the way you are!
Monday, July 11, 2011
Walmart Walk Of Shame
So, this is pretty simple...I never thought I would be the tackiest spectacle one would see walking around a Walmart! However, this was indeed the situation last monday evening. I'm not actually sure this has anything to do with being a mother, but my children were with me and it was my daughter who helped turn me into said spectacle, so I'm blogging about it.
My shoe broke. That's it. That's all that happened. We were checking out with our full cart of groceries, when Ayla- trying to help me load the groceries on the counter- stepped on my flip-flop and the thong ripped right out of it.
Now, in my experience, there is just no honestly graceful way to handle the moment a shoe breaks. There's this sort of "trip" move that automatically occurs as your foot springs free of the device that kept it restrained only the moment before.
So instantly, you're busy pretending that you don't care that you tripped, (you know...like, "Oh, i meant to do that!") and at the same time, your mind quickly begins scrambling for a solution to this ridiculous problem.
At this point, I had three options available to me to examine/fix my shoe. 1) I could bend down and attempt to fix it while I was hunched over and my three year old continued to slam eggs, milk and bananas onto the conveyer belt. 2) I could lift my foot up to eye level while attempting to balance on one foot as I fixed the cursed shoe. 3) I could take it off and stand there with one bare foot while I fixed it.
I opted to to take it off and fix it. Let me tell you that just standing in Walmart with one shoe off made me want to bleach not only my entire foot, but the leg attached to it as well! I'm not even sure what I think is happening on the floors of Walmart that disgusts me on such a level, but I was completely grossed out.
So, I managed to repair the shoe just enough to keep it on my foot during the check-out process but within two steps of heading for the exit, the thong popped free once again.
Now here is what I could not figure out- so please feel free to comment at the end of this post...
Does it make more of a spectacle to:
A) walk with one shoe on and one shoe off (gross!)
B) walk with both shoes off (double gross!)
C) drag my foot along the floor- as though I have a major physical handicap- but which at least keeps the shoe on my foot?
I opted for option D), which was to keep the shoe on, take approximately one and a half dragging steps, have it break again, attempt to fix it, then take another one and a half steps.
I did this until it was no longer possible to walk this way, at which point, I just took off my shoe. Never was I so careful not to make eye contact with another human being as I was, on this long walk to my car. There's a reason that the rule is : 'No shoes, No shirt, No service'! No shoes is in the top three! No one ever posts a sign that says 'No pants-No service'. But 'No Shoes' is at the top of the list. No one wants to see another person walking around barefoot in the same place they're buying their food! No one!
Now, I have seen those "people of Walmart" videos on YouTube. I've watched them with the appropriate hand-over-mouth shock that someone would go shopping, wearing not much more than a braided goatee, and yellow cowboy boots. But, I realize now, that the woman wearing that "get-up" probably just threw in all of her laundry for the week, realized that she forgot to buy fabric softener and had to make a bee-line for the store. I will no longer judge since I know she's probably well aware of the fact that her hot pink thong is creeping out the back of her leggings (which are about three sizes too small). She's also probably aware of the fact that, even though her yellow cowboy boots usually compliment any outfit...it may have been a "miss" just this once.
I was thrilled to actually get into my car that evening. I laughed out loud and drove home barefoot. Later on, when I told my husband about my shoe breaking, you know what his response was?
"You walked around Walmart without shoes on?!?!"
I literally had to explain in some detail that this was certainly not by choice. Even he could not muster up sympathy before distaste.
It has occurred to me during the typing of this, that parenthood can often be like this situation. There's nothing like a one year olds temper tantrum in a public place, to give you the same panicked feeling I had when I first felt my shoe break! There's often no more reasoning with my one year old than there is with my flip-flop. (Actually, sometimes there is no more reasoning with grown ups, than there is with a flip-flop! Lol!)
So, for all you parents who have ever dealt with a situation simply by trying to get out of it with some shred of dignity intact...youre awesome! As for me...I'm off to buy some yellow cowboy boots. I hear they compliment any outfit!
My shoe broke. That's it. That's all that happened. We were checking out with our full cart of groceries, when Ayla- trying to help me load the groceries on the counter- stepped on my flip-flop and the thong ripped right out of it.
Now, in my experience, there is just no honestly graceful way to handle the moment a shoe breaks. There's this sort of "trip" move that automatically occurs as your foot springs free of the device that kept it restrained only the moment before.
So instantly, you're busy pretending that you don't care that you tripped, (you know...like, "Oh, i meant to do that!") and at the same time, your mind quickly begins scrambling for a solution to this ridiculous problem.
At this point, I had three options available to me to examine/fix my shoe. 1) I could bend down and attempt to fix it while I was hunched over and my three year old continued to slam eggs, milk and bananas onto the conveyer belt. 2) I could lift my foot up to eye level while attempting to balance on one foot as I fixed the cursed shoe. 3) I could take it off and stand there with one bare foot while I fixed it.
I opted to to take it off and fix it. Let me tell you that just standing in Walmart with one shoe off made me want to bleach not only my entire foot, but the leg attached to it as well! I'm not even sure what I think is happening on the floors of Walmart that disgusts me on such a level, but I was completely grossed out.
So, I managed to repair the shoe just enough to keep it on my foot during the check-out process but within two steps of heading for the exit, the thong popped free once again.
Now here is what I could not figure out- so please feel free to comment at the end of this post...
Does it make more of a spectacle to:
A) walk with one shoe on and one shoe off (gross!)
B) walk with both shoes off (double gross!)
C) drag my foot along the floor- as though I have a major physical handicap- but which at least keeps the shoe on my foot?
I opted for option D), which was to keep the shoe on, take approximately one and a half dragging steps, have it break again, attempt to fix it, then take another one and a half steps.
I did this until it was no longer possible to walk this way, at which point, I just took off my shoe. Never was I so careful not to make eye contact with another human being as I was, on this long walk to my car. There's a reason that the rule is : 'No shoes, No shirt, No service'! No shoes is in the top three! No one ever posts a sign that says 'No pants-No service'. But 'No Shoes' is at the top of the list. No one wants to see another person walking around barefoot in the same place they're buying their food! No one!
Now, I have seen those "people of Walmart" videos on YouTube. I've watched them with the appropriate hand-over-mouth shock that someone would go shopping, wearing not much more than a braided goatee, and yellow cowboy boots. But, I realize now, that the woman wearing that "get-up" probably just threw in all of her laundry for the week, realized that she forgot to buy fabric softener and had to make a bee-line for the store. I will no longer judge since I know she's probably well aware of the fact that her hot pink thong is creeping out the back of her leggings (which are about three sizes too small). She's also probably aware of the fact that, even though her yellow cowboy boots usually compliment any outfit...it may have been a "miss" just this once.
I was thrilled to actually get into my car that evening. I laughed out loud and drove home barefoot. Later on, when I told my husband about my shoe breaking, you know what his response was?
"You walked around Walmart without shoes on?!?!"
I literally had to explain in some detail that this was certainly not by choice. Even he could not muster up sympathy before distaste.
It has occurred to me during the typing of this, that parenthood can often be like this situation. There's nothing like a one year olds temper tantrum in a public place, to give you the same panicked feeling I had when I first felt my shoe break! There's often no more reasoning with my one year old than there is with my flip-flop. (Actually, sometimes there is no more reasoning with grown ups, than there is with a flip-flop! Lol!)
So, for all you parents who have ever dealt with a situation simply by trying to get out of it with some shred of dignity intact...youre awesome! As for me...I'm off to buy some yellow cowboy boots. I hear they compliment any outfit!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
"But I Love It!"
So, motherhood is lovely. Lovely and rewarding. Wonderful. It's beautiful. Beautiful and lovely. And...sometimes...it can be slightly... tiring. I should clarify that by "slightly", I mean immensely; and by "tiring", I mean so exhausting that I pray for the sweet kiss of death!
There are often times, on any random day, when I feel a sense of exhaustion lurking but none when it grabs a hold of me so unforgivingly as the hour or so before the kids go to bed. It doesn't seem to matter how "ahead of the game" I have been all throughout the day; this time frame seems to have a mind of it's own, and it's determined to completely dishevel me, my house, and any semblance of order we currently have.
I often think of Reuben Feffer, in the movie 'Along Came Polly', when he takes Polly out for Indian food. Have you seen this? Oh, it's hilarious.... Reuben has a crush on Polly, so he jumps at the chance to take her out to dinner. The problem is, he lets her pick the restaurant even though he has a mild case of IBS (irritable bowel syndrome).
So they are sitting there at dinner and he is sweating profusely - I mean his shirt is soaked- and he is trying to finger these little bits of food into his mouth, even as every bite is threatening to come back up. Meanwhile, she is loving the food and absolutely shoveling the stuff into her mouth.
Finally, noticing the sweat dripping off of his face, she asks him if he's alright, and his response? "Yeah, no, I'm fine. I always react this way to spicy food. Yeah, but I love it!" I mean, the poor guy can hardly walk home without crossing his legs every other step, but Polly is worth it to him. "But I love it!" That's the line.
See, the image I have in my head of my kids bath/ bedtime is pretty simple: they take a bath, their hair is combed, pajamas on, bed time snack, then peacefully off to bed.
The reality? Well, I usually lose control right as they're getting out of the tub. One is running around naked-screaming and laughing- while the other one "needs" me to hold them. I'm searching high and low for the diaper or pajamas or whatever else I had ready two minutes ago, but have now misplaced.
At this point, I think the house comes alive to add whatever it can to the chaos. Books start falling off of bookshelves. Toys I haven't seen in days, make their way to every room in the house, where they can lay strategically in the middle of the floor, just waiting to trip me as I fly through, looking for the lost pajamas. Every time I go into the kitchen, I notice there are five more dishes on the counter and in the sink than there were a few minutes before that.
If I happen to glance in a mirror, I promptly vow to have all mirrors in the house removed immediately, because apparently, it's not only the house that is coming apart. My hair is springing free from my ponytail one frizzy piece at a time and my mascara has wandered off my lashes to sit in two black half-circles directly below my eyes. It's actually even worse if I remember that I wasn't wearing mascara that day because then, when i see those dark circles, all I can think is, "Dear God!! That's my face!"
It's usually at this point that I flash to an image of Reuben Feffer. Sweating, panting, pretending this is normal...and all I can say is, "But I love it!"
Amid all this chaos, we usually do find the missing pajamas and with a bit of wrestling, we do manage to get our kiddos into bed while reminding them that they are the best little boy and girl in the world. And then, once I get my shower (and take out my contacts), its not quite so disturbing to look in the mirror. Seriously...the mirror is not nearly as frightening when my vision is blurry.
So...try it out. The next time something is out of control- kids, bills, car trouble, hair, life... just say it. "But I love it!" Someday, when we're not chasing giggly children around and attempting to keep our house from collapsing in on us, we'll be glad that "we loved it."
There are often times, on any random day, when I feel a sense of exhaustion lurking but none when it grabs a hold of me so unforgivingly as the hour or so before the kids go to bed. It doesn't seem to matter how "ahead of the game" I have been all throughout the day; this time frame seems to have a mind of it's own, and it's determined to completely dishevel me, my house, and any semblance of order we currently have.
I often think of Reuben Feffer, in the movie 'Along Came Polly', when he takes Polly out for Indian food. Have you seen this? Oh, it's hilarious.... Reuben has a crush on Polly, so he jumps at the chance to take her out to dinner. The problem is, he lets her pick the restaurant even though he has a mild case of IBS (irritable bowel syndrome).
So they are sitting there at dinner and he is sweating profusely - I mean his shirt is soaked- and he is trying to finger these little bits of food into his mouth, even as every bite is threatening to come back up. Meanwhile, she is loving the food and absolutely shoveling the stuff into her mouth.
Finally, noticing the sweat dripping off of his face, she asks him if he's alright, and his response? "Yeah, no, I'm fine. I always react this way to spicy food. Yeah, but I love it!" I mean, the poor guy can hardly walk home without crossing his legs every other step, but Polly is worth it to him. "But I love it!" That's the line.
See, the image I have in my head of my kids bath/ bedtime is pretty simple: they take a bath, their hair is combed, pajamas on, bed time snack, then peacefully off to bed.
The reality? Well, I usually lose control right as they're getting out of the tub. One is running around naked-screaming and laughing- while the other one "needs" me to hold them. I'm searching high and low for the diaper or pajamas or whatever else I had ready two minutes ago, but have now misplaced.
At this point, I think the house comes alive to add whatever it can to the chaos. Books start falling off of bookshelves. Toys I haven't seen in days, make their way to every room in the house, where they can lay strategically in the middle of the floor, just waiting to trip me as I fly through, looking for the lost pajamas. Every time I go into the kitchen, I notice there are five more dishes on the counter and in the sink than there were a few minutes before that.
If I happen to glance in a mirror, I promptly vow to have all mirrors in the house removed immediately, because apparently, it's not only the house that is coming apart. My hair is springing free from my ponytail one frizzy piece at a time and my mascara has wandered off my lashes to sit in two black half-circles directly below my eyes. It's actually even worse if I remember that I wasn't wearing mascara that day because then, when i see those dark circles, all I can think is, "Dear God!! That's my face!"
It's usually at this point that I flash to an image of Reuben Feffer. Sweating, panting, pretending this is normal...and all I can say is, "But I love it!"
Amid all this chaos, we usually do find the missing pajamas and with a bit of wrestling, we do manage to get our kiddos into bed while reminding them that they are the best little boy and girl in the world. And then, once I get my shower (and take out my contacts), its not quite so disturbing to look in the mirror. Seriously...the mirror is not nearly as frightening when my vision is blurry.
So...try it out. The next time something is out of control- kids, bills, car trouble, hair, life... just say it. "But I love it!" Someday, when we're not chasing giggly children around and attempting to keep our house from collapsing in on us, we'll be glad that "we loved it."
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Dear Dad,
The following is a letter I wrote to my dad for fathers day this year. I had something else written for my blog this week, but I feel like maybe I didn't write this letter just for him. It's always good to be reminded that no matter how dark the night is...morning will come.
Dear Dad,
I'm not sure how to start this, so I'm just going to ramble for a sec while I find my groove..
I've thought about you a lot over the last few days. Fathers day is tomorrow, so that is part of the reason. The other reason is because, I realized the other day, that four years ago, was the week I had that horrible miscarriage.
Looking back on that week still brings me to tears...
Jasmine had been born three days before- your first grandchild and my first niece! She was perfect and it was one of the most exciting times in the history of our immediate family. You and mom were in Oklahoma to be a part of the arrival of this new generation into our family.
I was 14 weeks pregnant, and we went to the doctor that morning to hear the heartbeat for the first time. They couldn't find the heartbeat, so the doctor sent me in for a quick ultrasound. Within a few seconds of the ultrasound starting, I could see the uncomfortable look on the techs face, before she said, "Well, guys, I'm so sorry to tell you this,...but I don't see a viable fetus here." My world stopped then.
I remember trying to get out of the office before I broke. I leaned over and told Andy that I wasn't angry with him, I just couldn't look at him because I knew it would be my undoing. My stupid body had not even recognized the collapsed fetus, so there had been no sign that anything was wrong. Doc scheduled an emergency DNC for the next morning, Andy called me off of work, and we headed home to make the painful phone calls to our family. This was the second time I had miscarried.
I'll never forget the phone call to Heather. Within 10 seconds of the conversation, all she could quietly say was, "No... Holly, this wasn't supposed to happen".
An hour later, you called to tell me that you and mom had just left Oklahoma so that you could be with Andy and I the next morning during my surgery.
I still can't believe the timing of that horrible day. On top of being the day that Jas was brought home from the hospital, it was the week of Melissas wedding, and that weekend was fathers day. I had already bought a grandfathers card for you. I was broken.
I don't usually think so specifically about that time as I have this week. I'm not sure why I thought about it now. I thought about it on Thursday, and the thoughts stayed with me this weekend as Ayla and I bought construction paper and finger paints and made Andy a fathers day card.
Then tonight, we were all in the living room hanging out. I was sitting on the living room floor, with Crewe in my lap, and Andy and Ayla got down to pick out the movie she wanted to watch. I was within arms reach of my husband and both my beautiful babes. Right at this moment, a fathers day commercial came on. The woman in the commercial was having flashbacks of all the special moments she'd had with her father throughout the course of her life. It made me think of all my moments with you, and I started crying.
This moment was amazing! I was literally experiencing each millisecond of it. I was crying as I thought of memories, but laughing as I watched my reality. Ayla kept changing her mind, and Andy was trying to keep his patience with her as she wavered back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The rest of the evening was equally comical...
We had some major poopies tonight - we're not sure why- but major. At one point, Ayla didn't make it to the potty and it not only filled her panties, but leaked down her leg, and got on the bathroom floor and wall as I helped her into the shower.
Andy did offer to change Crewe once, but as soon as he opened the diaper, he gaggingly said, "Oh! I can't do it! It's green and it's all the way up on his junk"! He then ran into the kitchen, where he gagged over the sink for the next five minutes. I laughed out loud as I finished the diaper change.
The thing is...I was so happy to have those poopy diapers to change and I'm so grateful to be celebrating fathers day this year! I'm celebrating you. I'm celebrating Andy. And I'm celebrating my children!
Thinking back on all the things you've done - not only for me, but for all five of us- makes me feel so blessed!
For me personally, just realizing the anniversary of where I was four years ago, has made this fathers day weekend extra meaningful to me! I'll never forget the support I felt when you and mom drove through the night to be with us during that time! Even the days following, that Andy and I got to spend with you, were so good! ......
I finished the letter with some personal sentiment for my dad, but I want to finish this blog post by saying that I know life can take some incredibly cheap shots and it can knock you down in ways you never saw coming, but you are stronger than you know! So, for anyone (like me), who occasionally needs the reminder, let me tell you again...Morning will come. Have a great week everyone! :)
Dear Dad,
I'm not sure how to start this, so I'm just going to ramble for a sec while I find my groove..
I've thought about you a lot over the last few days. Fathers day is tomorrow, so that is part of the reason. The other reason is because, I realized the other day, that four years ago, was the week I had that horrible miscarriage.
Looking back on that week still brings me to tears...
Jasmine had been born three days before- your first grandchild and my first niece! She was perfect and it was one of the most exciting times in the history of our immediate family. You and mom were in Oklahoma to be a part of the arrival of this new generation into our family.
I was 14 weeks pregnant, and we went to the doctor that morning to hear the heartbeat for the first time. They couldn't find the heartbeat, so the doctor sent me in for a quick ultrasound. Within a few seconds of the ultrasound starting, I could see the uncomfortable look on the techs face, before she said, "Well, guys, I'm so sorry to tell you this,...but I don't see a viable fetus here." My world stopped then.
I remember trying to get out of the office before I broke. I leaned over and told Andy that I wasn't angry with him, I just couldn't look at him because I knew it would be my undoing. My stupid body had not even recognized the collapsed fetus, so there had been no sign that anything was wrong. Doc scheduled an emergency DNC for the next morning, Andy called me off of work, and we headed home to make the painful phone calls to our family. This was the second time I had miscarried.
I'll never forget the phone call to Heather. Within 10 seconds of the conversation, all she could quietly say was, "No... Holly, this wasn't supposed to happen".
An hour later, you called to tell me that you and mom had just left Oklahoma so that you could be with Andy and I the next morning during my surgery.
I still can't believe the timing of that horrible day. On top of being the day that Jas was brought home from the hospital, it was the week of Melissas wedding, and that weekend was fathers day. I had already bought a grandfathers card for you. I was broken.
I don't usually think so specifically about that time as I have this week. I'm not sure why I thought about it now. I thought about it on Thursday, and the thoughts stayed with me this weekend as Ayla and I bought construction paper and finger paints and made Andy a fathers day card.
Then tonight, we were all in the living room hanging out. I was sitting on the living room floor, with Crewe in my lap, and Andy and Ayla got down to pick out the movie she wanted to watch. I was within arms reach of my husband and both my beautiful babes. Right at this moment, a fathers day commercial came on. The woman in the commercial was having flashbacks of all the special moments she'd had with her father throughout the course of her life. It made me think of all my moments with you, and I started crying.
This moment was amazing! I was literally experiencing each millisecond of it. I was crying as I thought of memories, but laughing as I watched my reality. Ayla kept changing her mind, and Andy was trying to keep his patience with her as she wavered back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The rest of the evening was equally comical...
We had some major poopies tonight - we're not sure why- but major. At one point, Ayla didn't make it to the potty and it not only filled her panties, but leaked down her leg, and got on the bathroom floor and wall as I helped her into the shower.
Andy did offer to change Crewe once, but as soon as he opened the diaper, he gaggingly said, "Oh! I can't do it! It's green and it's all the way up on his junk"! He then ran into the kitchen, where he gagged over the sink for the next five minutes. I laughed out loud as I finished the diaper change.
The thing is...I was so happy to have those poopy diapers to change and I'm so grateful to be celebrating fathers day this year! I'm celebrating you. I'm celebrating Andy. And I'm celebrating my children!
Thinking back on all the things you've done - not only for me, but for all five of us- makes me feel so blessed!
For me personally, just realizing the anniversary of where I was four years ago, has made this fathers day weekend extra meaningful to me! I'll never forget the support I felt when you and mom drove through the night to be with us during that time! Even the days following, that Andy and I got to spend with you, were so good! ......
I finished the letter with some personal sentiment for my dad, but I want to finish this blog post by saying that I know life can take some incredibly cheap shots and it can knock you down in ways you never saw coming, but you are stronger than you know! So, for anyone (like me), who occasionally needs the reminder, let me tell you again...Morning will come. Have a great week everyone! :)
Monday, June 13, 2011
"Stilwel, angel, have another chocolate bar!"
"Stilwel, angel, have another chocolate bar"! Since I've had kids, this classic line from 'A League Of Their Own', has become one of my favorites. Meal time at our house is definitely one of the times I am most tempted to take the easier way out!
The image in my head of our meal times, is by far, one of the most hilariously different experiences than what is currently our reality. The image is awesome...
I have prepared a beautiful platter of some sort of roast duck (I'm not even kidding...duck!)...with an assortment of fresh, bright vegetables on the side...and of course, this is all served on delicately fine china.... We're always having these in-depth conversations full of laughter and "witty banter".... Get the basic picture?
Uummm, yeah... Ok, several things are wrong with this image right off the bat. First and foremost- my children are 18 months and 3 years old, so the wittiest our banter gets these days, is my daughter voicing her very strong opinion regarding her desire to have cocoa puffs for dinner, and then my husband and I attempting to offer our rebuttal to the cocoa puff argument. "No, cocoa puffs are just for a snack. Mommy made this delicious dinner and... yes you already said you don't want chicken...no it is not yucky, you haven't even tried a bite yet...Ayla, get back in your chair...we will help you take a bite, and you will see that you like....hey- back...in...your...chair. Now open your mouth and try- do...not...gag, you haven't even tasted it yet." (That's right- my 3 year old has a gag reflex which she uses quite convincingly, on a regular basis.)
And second...duck? I have never had duck in my life, so why the heck is that what's on the serving platter in my head? My mother never made duck. I've never had duck in a restaurant; and to the best of my knowledge, not one of my ten cookbooks has a recipe for duck. Actually, I guess it may not even be duck...maybe it's pheasant or something (which, I've also never tasted). The thing is, what's on the platter in my head is not nearly as prominent as the overall feeling this image projects. Peace, refreshment, connection- these are the things I expect from dinnertime at our house.
The thing is, since children have a tendency to grow up, I know that my reality will eventually catch up to the vision in my head. We will eventually get to sit through meals where the question, "Can I be done now?", is not heard every minute, but I know that if I don't find a way to enjoy these moments, I will regret it!
So, we continue to sit down to dinners, while "helping" my daughter to stay in her seat, and we do occasionally get a few bites of actual nutrition into her. However, I must confess, we do have Mac-n-cheese much more often than I ever thought possible, and while I don't think I have yet resorted to chocolate bars or cocoa puffs for dinner, I certainly have been known to whip up a batch of french toast because I know it will make for a pleasant dining experience. (No judging)
So for all you wonderful mothers, whose children do not fully appreciate the culinary masterpieces you present to them day in and day out,....well, I was going to try to come up with some very wise and proven advice here...but I have none.
I just do know that you are great mothers. I know you love your children and want the absolute best for them, so I will just assure you that no matter what challenges motherhood presents, you can do it!...And also that the occasional bowl of cocoa puffs for dinner is actually not the end of the world.
Oh...and if anyone has a great recipe for roast duck, can you make sure I get it?
The image in my head of our meal times, is by far, one of the most hilariously different experiences than what is currently our reality. The image is awesome...
I have prepared a beautiful platter of some sort of roast duck (I'm not even kidding...duck!)...with an assortment of fresh, bright vegetables on the side...and of course, this is all served on delicately fine china.... We're always having these in-depth conversations full of laughter and "witty banter".... Get the basic picture?
Uummm, yeah... Ok, several things are wrong with this image right off the bat. First and foremost- my children are 18 months and 3 years old, so the wittiest our banter gets these days, is my daughter voicing her very strong opinion regarding her desire to have cocoa puffs for dinner, and then my husband and I attempting to offer our rebuttal to the cocoa puff argument. "No, cocoa puffs are just for a snack. Mommy made this delicious dinner and... yes you already said you don't want chicken...no it is not yucky, you haven't even tried a bite yet...Ayla, get back in your chair...we will help you take a bite, and you will see that you like....hey- back...in...your...chair. Now open your mouth and try- do...not...gag, you haven't even tasted it yet." (That's right- my 3 year old has a gag reflex which she uses quite convincingly, on a regular basis.)
And second...duck? I have never had duck in my life, so why the heck is that what's on the serving platter in my head? My mother never made duck. I've never had duck in a restaurant; and to the best of my knowledge, not one of my ten cookbooks has a recipe for duck. Actually, I guess it may not even be duck...maybe it's pheasant or something (which, I've also never tasted). The thing is, what's on the platter in my head is not nearly as prominent as the overall feeling this image projects. Peace, refreshment, connection- these are the things I expect from dinnertime at our house.
The thing is, since children have a tendency to grow up, I know that my reality will eventually catch up to the vision in my head. We will eventually get to sit through meals where the question, "Can I be done now?", is not heard every minute, but I know that if I don't find a way to enjoy these moments, I will regret it!
So, we continue to sit down to dinners, while "helping" my daughter to stay in her seat, and we do occasionally get a few bites of actual nutrition into her. However, I must confess, we do have Mac-n-cheese much more often than I ever thought possible, and while I don't think I have yet resorted to chocolate bars or cocoa puffs for dinner, I certainly have been known to whip up a batch of french toast because I know it will make for a pleasant dining experience. (No judging)
So for all you wonderful mothers, whose children do not fully appreciate the culinary masterpieces you present to them day in and day out,....well, I was going to try to come up with some very wise and proven advice here...but I have none.
I just do know that you are great mothers. I know you love your children and want the absolute best for them, so I will just assure you that no matter what challenges motherhood presents, you can do it!...And also that the occasional bowl of cocoa puffs for dinner is actually not the end of the world.
Oh...and if anyone has a great recipe for roast duck, can you make sure I get it?
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
What is the mom in my mind?
Well...the mom in my mind is the image in my mind, of what motherhood will be, compared to what motherhood is in reality. I must tell you that the difference is laughable!
I think the first time I realized that reality differed from the lovely picture in my mind, was the day I took my daughter out to play in the snow for the first time.
Oh, the image in my head was lovely!...
We would both look like adorable snow bunnies as we laughed and chased each other around the yard. It would be snowing glitter as we fell into the snow to make snow angels...you get the picture...
The reality?
My daughter was 18 months old and I was 8 months pregnant. It took me 20 minutes to heave my whale of a self into 3 layers of clothing, and another 10 attempting to bend over and tie up my boots.
At this point, I began wrestling my 18 month old into her snow clothes. By the time she was dressed, I had spent 45 minutes preparing us for the snow, and I was already sweating! I began peeling my first layer off as we headed out the door.
Within ten seconds of walking out into the snow, she became annoyed with her gloves, and tore them off. Approximately 10 seconds after that, she picked up a handful of snow, and of course, began screaming when her hand became cold.
I attempted to put her gloves back on. This only served to produce a full on temper tantrum, which resulted in her running away from me, at which point she fell down and landed with her face in the snow.
Needless to say, she was of the opinion that this was indeed my fault. I could tell this by the look in her eyes and the gibberish she screamed accusingly at me.
At this point, since she was so angry about the snow on her face and hands, it was useless for me to try and help her up. She would accept no help, and the tantrum was getting louder. I'm sure it looked like child abuse as I attempted to carry my kicking and screaming "snow bunny angel" into our house. Did I mention I was EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT?!?!
Twenty minutes later, as I sat on the couch (still panting), I said out loud, "Well, I saw that going differently in my head." (insert a little eye roll here)
I believe this was the first time I realized that the image in my head was often hilariously different than what my reality actually looked like!
The thing about motherhood, is that it truly is one of the most rewarding things you will ever do, but frustration, exhaustion and guilt, seem to be constantly lurking, waiting to completely dishevel your parenting ideas and skills!
So for anyone else who had far more answers on parenting, before they had children- this is for you! I know you are great mothers! Follow my blog. Post a comment or send me an e-mail and let me know I am not the only one in this universe whose children would prefer to survive mainly on mac-n-cheese and chicken nuggets. Yeah...picky eaters....I never saw that coming either......... :)
I think the first time I realized that reality differed from the lovely picture in my mind, was the day I took my daughter out to play in the snow for the first time.
Oh, the image in my head was lovely!...
We would both look like adorable snow bunnies as we laughed and chased each other around the yard. It would be snowing glitter as we fell into the snow to make snow angels...you get the picture...
The reality?
My daughter was 18 months old and I was 8 months pregnant. It took me 20 minutes to heave my whale of a self into 3 layers of clothing, and another 10 attempting to bend over and tie up my boots.
At this point, I began wrestling my 18 month old into her snow clothes. By the time she was dressed, I had spent 45 minutes preparing us for the snow, and I was already sweating! I began peeling my first layer off as we headed out the door.
Within ten seconds of walking out into the snow, she became annoyed with her gloves, and tore them off. Approximately 10 seconds after that, she picked up a handful of snow, and of course, began screaming when her hand became cold.
I attempted to put her gloves back on. This only served to produce a full on temper tantrum, which resulted in her running away from me, at which point she fell down and landed with her face in the snow.
Needless to say, she was of the opinion that this was indeed my fault. I could tell this by the look in her eyes and the gibberish she screamed accusingly at me.
At this point, since she was so angry about the snow on her face and hands, it was useless for me to try and help her up. She would accept no help, and the tantrum was getting louder. I'm sure it looked like child abuse as I attempted to carry my kicking and screaming "snow bunny angel" into our house. Did I mention I was EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT?!?!
Twenty minutes later, as I sat on the couch (still panting), I said out loud, "Well, I saw that going differently in my head." (insert a little eye roll here)
I believe this was the first time I realized that the image in my head was often hilariously different than what my reality actually looked like!
The thing about motherhood, is that it truly is one of the most rewarding things you will ever do, but frustration, exhaustion and guilt, seem to be constantly lurking, waiting to completely dishevel your parenting ideas and skills!
So for anyone else who had far more answers on parenting, before they had children- this is for you! I know you are great mothers! Follow my blog. Post a comment or send me an e-mail and let me know I am not the only one in this universe whose children would prefer to survive mainly on mac-n-cheese and chicken nuggets. Yeah...picky eaters....I never saw that coming either......... :)
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