Working Moms: We are Tired

I'm just tired.

Not only in the sense that I'm sleepy but just tired.

Laundry is all over the place. I can't keep up with it. No matter what.

Piles and piles of paperwork, kids artwork, and things to put somewhere, anywhere.

Dishes, dishwasher, make coffee.

Stop looking at social media, focus.

There is so much work to be done for my actual job. If I sit here for a few hours until midnight, I'll still be not done.

Get up at 5am but there still aren't enough hours in the day. Did I even sleep?

Drop off kids, pickup kids. Drive, drive, more driving. Sit in car, wait, wait, more waiting.

We don't have enough food in the house, we need more snacks. Buy snacks. We need more!

Argue with the husband, and again, and again. We're both tired, over-worked, need a break.

Making decisions every day. Some easy, some not so easy. The mental toll is exhausting. Mentally failing.

Must eat healthy. Must find a way to exercise more. Must lose weight.

Clothes baskets piled up. Need more baskets. 

Make appointments. Doctor. Dentist. Hair cuts. Don't be late. Rush, rush, rush.

Feed cats, clean up after cats, why do we have cats.

Three meals a day to feed the kids and now we need a meal after school. Four meals a day. Need more food.

Vacuum again. And again. Dust and again. Mop the floors, change the sheets, clean up the cat hair. For one minute it's clean and then start again. 

Conference calls all day. Don't eat. No time. Be camera ready. Put on smile. Be alive and well. Drink lots of water. Keep hydrated. 

Out of milk. Buy more milk. Kids need milk. 

Take my pills. Don't forget. Late for my mammogram. That is bad. No time. Gotta make time. See the doc. Get my bloodwork done. Forgot, make another appointment. Don't forget. Block the calendar.

So many emails. Can't keep up. Bad employee?

Was that a text message? A Slack note? An email? Where was it? I can't remember. What day is it?

Car needs gas. More driving, more waiting.

Hampers over flowing. Do laundry. Lots of it. 

Yard work needs to be done. The yard is a mess. Sweat, dirt, all over the house now. Clean again. Poison ivy. Why me?

Hear the news. Die a little inside. Life is so hard but you're on the high end of the spectrum. Be lucky. Feel guilty. You're going to be fine. You'll survive. Others, not so much. Be grateful. More guilt. It's just life. You chose it. 

Trash to collect. Trash to take out. Recycle. Trash. Clean the fridge. Clean.

Birthday is coming up. Can't do too little or too much. What to buy? What to do? Make sure my child feels loved on her birthday. Guilty. Worried. What if I'm a bad mom?

Nothing fits. I have to get kids new clothes. Sort through the old. Donate. Sell. Throw away socks with holes. So much to keep up with. 

Laptops charged for school? Sneakers for gym days. Library books. Sign the form. Bring your stuffie in today. It's rainbow day. Make sure they look amazing. Take a photo.

Make lunches. Healthy food only. No waste. Only use containers. No trash. Be green. Keep kids fit. Lunch notes. I have to print them and be perfect. Can't miss a day. They expect those notes. 

Bills to pay. How much did that cost? School photos, yearbooks, sports photos, activities costs, donations. Dish out more money. Raffles. Raise money. Gotta get a new playground at the school. Buy, buy, buy.

Someone had an accident? Cat puked? Clean up. Do the sheets. Sanitize.

Volunteer to do this. Volunteer to do that. Guilty I can't coach little league. Sad I can't be with both kids at activities at the same time. I'm a bad mom.

Mother's Day. Christmas. Birthdays. Father's Day. Gifts. More gifts. Buy, buy, buy. Argue over spending. Spend. Argue. Spend. Argue. Budget. Spend. Still argue.

She can't sleep. He needs another hug. She can't find her blankie. He needs water. She has to pee. Go to bed. I need to go to bed so you have to go to bed. Guilty, sad, bad mom.

Why is my tween moody? Why is my little one crying? I'm a bad mom. I'm yelling. I'm frustrated. I'm angry. I want a BREAK.

Contractor costs what? Need to paint. Need to fix the house. Live like a hurricane hit the house. Deal with it. Get over it. It's temporary. Where are my scissors? Why can't I find underwear?

Laundry. Do the laundry.

Mom Jeans and All that Jazz

So I went to American Eagle to buy jeans today.

Cause Gandhi from the Elvis Duran and the morning show told me about these new curvey jeans from American Eagle that fits every body. And because I listen to this radio show while running, I’ve heard it about a hundred times. I felt it would be rude and indecent of me to not listen to the commercial and buy a pair already.

I walked into the store with my four year old son in tow for the only free 20 minutes I had for my week before a big work trip. I wandered around reading every jeans table sign looking for “curvey”. Nada.

Finally a sales woman came over and asked if I needed help (thank the lord). My response: I’m looking for short, fat girl jeans. I hear you have some of those?

Instant awkwardness. From me. My bad.

She showed me the curvey selection they have available and I instantly regretted my choice of stores. Every single pair, holes down the front. Classy, people, real classy. If I wanted holey jeans, I’d just continue wearing my Wal-Mart jeans with the all-naturale holes.

She offered up a size that may fit me (un-holey, yay!) and I literally had no idea what size I’d be at their store. So I grab 3 pairs of humongous sizes just to be safe. She piled me up with about 9 pairs and I asked her if the sizing there typically ran big or small. She said small. I instantly wished I’d just kept with my Wal-Mart crap.

My son and I went into the changing room where he started belting out Taylor Swift. I put on the first pair and felt they could go all the way up to my chin and back. The next pair was a bit snug which my son decided to tell me I was too fat for. Thanks buddy. How about I was thinner until I had you, child, and you made me eat carbs EVERY day and though you’re four years old and I’ve been running and eating healthy for over a year, my 5 month pregnant looking belly may never go away and it’s all your fault and good thing you’re cute.

I got bored after trying on three pairs and figured I’d just get the ones I can pull all the way up to my chin and hope for the best.

I went back up to the counter and pretty much embarrassed myself to no end with old lady questions. Can you find me the exact same pair in black? This style, size etc (pointing to the tag as if she is blind)? Were these supposed to go all the way up to my chin? Are these on sale by chance? Can you order them online? Too bad you don’t have extra short, right!? Can I get them in two days? Can you tell I rarely buy jeans?

About an hour later (okay, maybe five minutes but it felt like an hour), I paid for my new jeans and awkwardly fast mom walked out of the store.

I learned a lot on this outing to buy myself jeans:

1. I should probably buy myself better quality stuff all the time and not just my kids…
2. American Eagle is totally a young people’s store and I faked it but didn’t make it…
3. Don’t premise a conversation with “I’m looking for short, fat girl…” anything.
4. Leave the toddler at home next time you’re in a dressing room...

Even Working Moms on TV Don't Have it All

Being a sensitive person by nature, I always am tearing up or balling over things on TV. But if you are a fan of the show Homeland and you’re a working mom like me, there’s no way you didn’t get a bit choked up over the latest episode - the theme being you can’t be a career woman and a mom at the same time. Especially when you’re the super secretive, terrorism fighting, saving lives, bomb stopping, breaking and entering, seductress, bipolar CIA agent Carrie Mathison.

Every. Single. Day. I question my life choices. Want to own a home? Need a job. Want to pay for those expensive gymnastics team practices? Need that job to pay well. Need to replace the furnace of said home? Need a job plus a bonus or two for all the extras. Want to have some type of fun with your family? Need a job with vacation time!

Meanwhile I dream of the days when we can “downsize” and live on less when at the same time my husband begs me to drop everything, sell it all, and move. Can you say Island living? If island living has a walk in closet, a maid, and the same conveniences and opportunities for my kids, sign me up!

I have a career that I worked hard for because I had to. Not because I wanted to. However, over the years the want and the need have gone hand in hand. Especially on days when my toddler is driving me batshit crazy and I need a break to talk with grownups. I’m also lucky that I get to work from home, full time, in my mom pants. I can show up at my daughter’s school for all the special events. I can get up early or stay up late to put in hours. All the while my kids stand in my home office just hovering and waiting for attention. You want to be a mom on top of that job - good luck with that!

I don’t care how many articles I read about juggling the two or having it all - you can’t. It’s impossible. You’re always neglecting something; be it the kids, the husband, your work (your sanity!). I once had a mom say to me she doesn’t know how she’s so busy all the time as a stay at home mom. She also went on to say she doesn’t know how I do it all plus a job. I have to say that I’m one of the lucky ones who has a partner that definitely pulls his weight in the household chores category. But everything else a mom and an employee has to handle, I do on my own.

Then I watch this television show where Carrie the magnificent CIA agent is literally saving democracy and having her daughter taken away at the same time. You can’t fight the bad guys and be home in time for school pickup now, can you?! Now I’m not denying that this Carrie chick isn’t a bit nutso because the fact is she is bipolar on the show. Her character is also incredibly talented, intelligent, and super badass. Yet there she is watching her daughter being taken away from her while she jets off to an undisclosed location to, again, save her country for the 18th time at least during the show.

And yes it’s a tv show - I get it. Fiction! But there is no denying that there are some brave women serving our country be it in the military or as a federal agent. Some are most definitely moms as well. Maybe even at some point they had to leave their child for their job and for our country. It really sucks that a working mom has to put work before family.

So as the show rolled to credits, I sat there on the couch and sobbed for Carrie Mathison of Homeland and for all the other women in our world who have such tough decisions every day about how they can be a mom and be badass employees at the same time. I have to decide how much screen time my kids are going to get on snow days when I’m on back to back conference calls all day. I’m not deciding who’s going to be an interim mother while I’m out fighting crime. I don’t have it all that bad compared to the Carrie Mathison’s of the world.

I just find this whole idea that women can have it is all a crock of bullshit with a cherry on top. I have a beautiful, healthy family who I work hard to protect, grow, and take care of. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I know the hardworking men in my life don’t think twice about “having it all” because even if they don’t, they do. There is no stigma around working dads. I’m a working mom who is not getting enough sleep, enough time with her kids, enough time for work, and definitely not enough time with her husband.

I’m a working mom struggling to get it all done, every day. I’m a working mom looking for the light at the end of the tunnel; for a time when I can sleep again. I’m a working mom, just like Carrie Mathison, fighting to survive my life.

 I feel ya, Carrie. I do.

An Extraordinary Daughter with a Goal and a Drive

Snow days in town means for cancellations and postponements.

Including school, practice, parties, and more. The weather left us with a Saturday dilemma. Go to a birthday party or rescheduled gymnastics team practice.

I told Lyla she had to decide which to go to. It was her decision and I'd support what she decided. Because of the locations, we could not possibly do both.

She was very upset at first so I told her to think about it for a bit. She then came to me with the following:

Lyla: I decided. I am going to gymnastics practice and not the birthday party. I'm serious about gymnastics and I have two meets coming up so I need to be able to do my best. So I need the practice. It's more important to me than going to a birthday party and eating junk food.

I was taken aback for a minute simply because SHE'S 7! And to have that much determination, drive, and discipline at SEVEN is unbelievable.

I look at her in doubt unable to believe she came from me. But I see so much of her father in her so I know where she gets it from for sure. No one can stop her; she has goals and a fever to reach those goals that I've never seen before.

Not only am I proud to be her mother but I'm so excited to see what she achieves. No matter what, she is steering her own path; I am not going to interfere or push or drive any doubts. She alone will drive her passion to extraordinary heights. As high as she wants to go.

My baby girl - so grown up. My baby girl - pushing the limits and making something of herself. So incredibly proud.

Ignorance Could Have Brought Bliss

It was a great morning.

I was woken up by my toddler who now climbs out of his crib and into my warm bed for some morning snuggles. It’s literally one of my favorite parts of the day. Feeling his chilly body pressed against my warm chest while he strokes my cheek and cuddles me. There is no greater love than a mother for a child - except for when said child is snuggling on their own accord. My heart just melts. I pray it lasts forever.

The kids got dressed on their own without fuss. I got a stern talking to by my toddler though. It was funny. I asked him if he wanted the rest of his muffin. He said he wanted it not frozen though. Thoroughly confused, I asked him, do you mean you don’t want it warmed up? Yes, he said, don’t warm up my muffin, got it?

As we walked down the stairs, he looked at me and said: What did I say? Don’t warm up my muffin. Understood?

I was cracking up. He’s just the cutest, seriously.

We asked Alexa for some jokes and boredom facts while the kids ate breakfast and I prepared school lunch. I had Alexa play my favorite Beach Boys song and we were on our way to a great start.

Kids went upstairs to play (we were ready so early, there was play time! Score!) so I put on the radio to be entertained while I finished my coffee and catch up on work. I wish I hadn’t bothered. I wish I could have let me great morning continue but the world and one sick individual had other plans.

How many times do I need to turn on the TV or radio or read news online and see such heinous acts of cruelty? How often is there something going on in our country or world making people talk, disagree, argue, and cry? When is it going to end?

Never.

For this reason, I prefer to not listen to news and not read online. For this reason, I choose ignorance. It’s horrible, I know. It’s a cop out. I suck. But people and the world suck worse. I just hope and pray every day that these horrible things don’t come close to my tiny corner of the world.

I hope and pray that more people would raise their children the right and moral way - without hate, without judgement and with more love and kindness.

I hope and pray that those who are ill get help.

And I hope and pray that someday, I can turn the news back on and see more love than hate. Some day.

In the meantime, I will stay here in my tiny corner of the world, ignorant, yet doing my job. Helping to raise good people who will bring more love and less hate to the world. A job, though small, that is very important.

Mom Judging and How It Affects on My Sleep

I didn’t sleep last night.

I mean, I was laying in bed all night with my sleep mask on and eyes closed yet wide awake.

I saw every hour on the clock.

My mind was racing. Why? Because of some judgy mom I should have ignored and not let bother me. But she did.

When we make decisions for our children, they are not done lightly. Everywhere my kids go, what they do, how they are fed, and everything; I think about it.

Is it a good idea to get my kids McDonald’s for dinner tonight? They’ve eaten healthy meals at home for the entire week. A Happy Meal every once in awhile is fine.

Should I take my overtired, didn’t nap toddler to sit at the gym during my daughter’s 2 hour practice today? Even though she really wants me there and I have a lot of work to do at home? Today, I have to stay home I think.

Is it better to have my daughter in activities 4 days a week after school and one until 8pm or should we take a break from something? I think we need to take a break from something. It’s too much.

Every. Single. Decision. I think about it, I talk to my husband (he trusts my decision), I talk to my mom (gives me the advice I need to hear), and ultimately I decide what is the best for my children.

And what is best for my children may not be best for your children. But that is okay.

So if I’m talking to you, as a parent, and your opinion is different than mine, don’t make me feel bad about it. My child is going to succeed in life regardless because I’m their mom and I’m doing the best I can for us.

It’s stupid really. I don’t like to care what other people think, it shouldn’t bother me. But this mom, she did. She really affected me to the point I didn’t sleep last night. She bothered me so much I started to rethink the decisions I had made for my child. She made me second guess myself so badly I actually contemplated a backup plan/strategy - to the point I was planning for 2 years from now. WTF, right? It’s 3am, go the fuck to sleep!

But it got worse, I started to think about worst case scenario. Know those horror stories we hear about on the news… we think it can’t happen to me? I began to imagine what if. I’ll go back to the moment I made my decision and wonder why did I go through with it. I will revisit the conversation I had with this mom and pray I had listened to her. I will regret my decision for the rest of my life. Every time I see her in town, I’ll blush in shame and the mom guilt will be unbearable.

Why did she make me feel inferior? Why did she have to make a point, numerous times that the path I have chosen is not right? Why did she have to open up her big, fat mouth and act superior to me? More importantly, why did I listen? Why is it bothering me? Is it because in some way, I worry she is right?

Rocking My Baby Boy to Sleep

I rocked my baby to sleep last night.

It was getting late. I was tired and he was tired. I had this nagging feeling in me to not let him go to bed upset so I picked him back up into my arms and sat back in my ancient nursing rocker - the one I’ll never allow myself to get rid of no matter how old my babies get.

I laid him across me, his head cradled in the nook of my arm and his arm around my neck and we rocked. I told him a story, one of his favorites including trucks and puppies. Then I sang songs while he drifted in and out of sleep with his soft breath warming my chest. He fell asleep smiling nestled into me as I rocked and rocked.

I don’t do this every night. It’s been a long time since I rocked him to sleep. It didn’t matter that I had an endless night of chores and work to do. It didn’t matter that I had yet to eat dinner or even see my husband for five minutes. As the minutes ticked by, I rocked and rocked purely in the moment. I rubbed his head, I touched his chubby cheek, I patted his warm back, and I kissed his nose.

I took him in in all his beautiful baby boy glory. The immense love I had for him took over and I basked in his aura still unable to imagine how I had made this human being. I couldn’t even remember not having him as a part of our family. He was made to be here and add so much life and fun (and mischief!) to our family. My baby boy.

We rocked and rocked, not allowing myself to drift off as well. I wanted to be here and present. I didn’t want to miss a thing. It’s not often I sit and stay present. My brain is usually going on autopilot planning my next steps, the next move, mentally checking lists, and waiting for the next thing. But I didn’t - wouldn’t allow it.

As my boy smiled and slept, I stared at him lovingly knowing he had the best parts of me and his daddy. I knew he has what it takes to grow and be a good person - true and kind. I knew that someday he was going to make a positive impact on this world and make us proud. I just had this feeling that he was going to be somebody - and that somebody was my son. My baby boy.

So we rocked and cuddled, me and my baby boy. Because who knows how many more times I’ll be able to rock him to sleep. This little boy full of promise and hope; growing up right before my very own eyes.

SMM: Being Bullied in First Grade

My latest piece for Suburban Misfit Mom was published recently. Though I wrote this a few weeks back, it brings back lots of emotions.

Being Bulled in First Grade

Some Kids are Assholes

My daughter was so upset. She wasn’t having fun so it was time to go.

I’m grateful for my daughter because she is smart and kind. She truly knows the difference between right and wrong. I work hard to raise her that way. I’m consistent and honest with her. She, in turn, is being molded into an amazing young person. I couldn’t be more proud. Truly, she’s an awesome kid.

So when her day was being ruined, momma bear was ready to pounce. I have to admit, like many other moms, I’m very passionate when it comes to wrongdoings towards my child. Sometimes a little too passionate. But again, I’ve made a commitment to be open and honest with my children as much as I can. Not only does it ensure trust but not sugar coating things helps them in the long run. Life isn’t all puppies and rainbows and sometimes it’s better to learn that at an early age.

However the flip side of things is very important. As soon as she came up to me upset about something and explained it (in this particular instance, kids were being crazy at an open gym and kept cutting her in line), my first response wasn’t how dare they, it was, so what about you? Are you cutting in line? Are you being assertive? Did you speak up?

I think parenting can be really hard but I feel we can not think our children are perfect angels. No matter how you raise them, you can never assume that they are never in the wrong. Every single time my daughter is upset or hurt, I don’t want to hear who did what. I want to hear how it got to that. So someone pushed you, well, what were you doing before the alleged push occurred (too many screenings of legal shows for me…)? Sometimes she is innocent but other times she’ll tell me the background and there is more to the story. She may have brought on the wrongdoing and is not totally innocent.

Having the right balance of comfort and lesson learning for these situations is really important. You have to show the child that there is a consequence for everything; sometimes good and sometimes bad. Always tell them to think before they speak or act - is that the way you’d want to be treated or talked to?

Honestly, it’s exhausting but really rewarding. We’re at a point now with my daughter, who is six, can pinpoint exactly what happened and why. I no longer have to ask. She’s also incredibly honest. She has never gotten into trouble before but recently she did. I didn’t get a call from the teacher, I didn’t have to. My daughter told me herself; crying hysterically because again she knows the difference between right and wrong and was disappointed in herself. Granted the offense was not all that bad but the whole idea of doing something against the rules at school really did a number on her. Some parents would blame the other kids for peer pressuring their child (which is really what I wanted to do). But I know my child has a mind of her own and I told her that. That can’t be the excuse.

So when she came to me upset about the kids cutting her in line, and ready to go home, she was honest with me about it. And I in turn believed her. We got into the car and she looked at me with this sad yet very mature look on her face asking me, mommy why are those kids so mean.

I was honest with her and told her, some kids are just assholes. She looked at me wide eyed and smiled. I told her not to repeat that (mentally cursing myself for slipping and talking to a six year old like that!).

I followed up with this. I told her she and her brother are very lucky. I said that mommy and daddy care so much about you both that we want to raise you to be good people. That is why we’re very strict with you about being respectful, having manners, and being kind. We drill it into you all the time and punish you when you misbehave.

I told her that some of the kids in there being crazy and being rude maybe don’t have parents like you do. Maybe their parents don’t care if they have manners or are being kind. And isn’t that sad? Don’t all kids deserve to have parents to raise them to be the best they can? So instead of being upset with those kids, be more kind to them. They aren’t getting raised like you are even though they deserve to be. Who knows, maybe a little kindness towards them will have a positive effect on them.

She really liked that answer and I could see her wheels spinning. She smiled and said thank you to me.

Yes, some kids are assholes but mine will not be.

I’m Turning into My Mother... And That’s Okay

I was about to embark on my first ever sleepover field trip with my class. We were heading down to Washington DC on the traditional 8th grade trip. That year, jelly shoes were all the rage. All I wanted was a pair of clear jelly shoes to wear on my 8th grade trip to DC.

The day before we were to leave, my mom took me to every store imaginable to find them. We kept striking out and then on a whim we went to Lord & Taylor at the mall. A store we could never afford but nevertheless this was important. There were the jelly shoes, in all their glory and in my size. My mom bought them of course; the cost didn’t matter. She wanted me to have them but not because she wanted to spoil me or because she wanted to give me everything I wanted. She bought them for me because she is that kind of person. The kind of person who would move heaven and earth to make someone happy. The kind of person who goes out of their way, taking shirts off their back to put a smile on someone else’s face.

I find myself looking at my life as a spectator lately. I’m standing at the forefront of a situation watching my interactions wondering what kind of person I am. It’s the strangest feeling to be in the audience of your life.

My mom & me

There is an older woman walking down the street every day. I drive by every day and each day I find myself waving at her. She is so adorable and so dedicated to walking with her cane and trendy glasses. I watch myself waving and smiling at her every day and think, that’s my mom.

I’m in the grocery store and there is an older man waiting at the deli counter with me. He looks over at me as I take my cheese from the man.  He tells me he loves cheese. I can tell he wants to chat and despite being in a crazy hurry I chat with him about cheese, smile, laugh, and as I leave telling him to have a great day. I watch over this interaction realizing, that’s my mom.

There is a young girl trying to get into the music store with her big guitar case. I run across the store and open the door for her calling her sweetie. I can see this happening. I can see my mom.

Every girl in my daughter’s gymnastics class got a brand new gym branded leotard except one girl. There was one left and I was standing right there as the girl quietly asked her mom if she could have it. Her mom wondered how much it was and said she’d think about it. I nearly spoke up saying I would buy it for her. I don’t have extra money for that but the mere thought of her daughter missing out made my heart ache. I wanted to buy it and almost did. I stand by watching myself aching wanting to buy it while stressing about my own bills. That is my mom.

There is a new girl at my daughter’s school in her grade. On the field trip I see little, beautiful girl standing by the teacher rather than other kids. She wants to hold the teacher’s hand as if she doesn’t have other friends. I pulled my daughter aside and told her to be friendly with her and include her. I tell her every day now to do something nice for someone. I see this happening between me and my daughter. I see me and my mom.

It’s wear your favorite team shirt day at school but my daughter doesn’t follow anything but gymnastics. She wants a Simone Biles shirt to wear. I can’t find one anywhere. It’s 11 p.m. the night before as I make her a Simone Biles shirt to wear the next day. She wakes up so excited and grateful. I stand by and watch over knowing it’s my mom.

I’m watching myself turn into my mother. I’m not meaning to but I can’t help myself. My whole life I was taught by watching her; one selfless act after another. Now every situation I watch myself doing exactly what she would do. I’m turning into my mother and that’s okay. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Day the Lady at McDonald's Helped a Sister Out

To the Lady at McDonald's,

I had a day. It started out okay. It was going pretty good actually. Had some friends coming over to swim with my kids. Work was going smooth and knew I’d have time for a few hours off to visit. But all that changed in one second.

A few weeks ago, a beer bottle fell and broke on my floor. My husband and I did our best to clean up all the glass and spilled beer. All was well or so we thought.

My son was walking through the living room as he does all day everyday but this time he fell on our shag carpet and started screaming. I picked him up not sure what had happened but then I saw the blood on his foot. There was a tiny glass shard sticking out the bottom of his foot. I could see the sharp edge and despite my toddler screaming for dear life tried my best to get it out. After failing miserably, I called my pediatrician for advice and let my son float in the pool until we had to go see the doc.

My friends left and I packed up my limping son and pouting daughter for the doc. I got in the car and realized I’d not drank much all day and was dying of thirst. I parked at the doctor and since it’s the same plaza as a CVS, I carried the injured toddler across the lot with my still sulking daughter to get a Gatorade. After getting the Gatorade, I went to pay and at that point my arm was throbbing from holding my 26 lb kid. So while holding him and trying to pay I somehow dropped the entire contents of my purse and my wallet on the floor. Now I couldn’t put my son down because of his foot. My face was beet red and I was dripping with sweat as I quickly had my daughter help me fill back up my bag. The man behind me in line was smiling as I apologized for the hold up but he was very gracious and polite so there was that. I literally ran out of CVS with both kids to get to the doctor’s office on time.

Once in the AC again and checked in, I went to put my wallet and purse back together again. That’s when I noticed something was missing. My change purse full of gift cards was not accounted for. I quickly called CVS and the woman found half of my purse still on the floor. FUN! I assured her I’d be right back after my appointment.

Meanwhile the doctor looked at my son’s foot and he had to get the glass shard out. For the next 10 minutes, my one and half year old sat on my lap squeezing my head and his blankies screaming and crying and sweating while the doctor dug the shard out with a needle. All the while my daughter hiding behind me worried about the situation wondering if it would ever end.

I put on a brave front but I was ready to lose it. I had left my purse contents in CVS, my son was going to hate me for life for A: leaving a glass shard behind and B: letting a doctor gouge out his foot with a needle. An eternity later the miniscule shard was out and despite the dramatics and pain, my son was perfectly fine. I walked out of the office holding in the tears.

Back to CVS I went to got my change purse, my chapstick, library card, and old shopping list and pen. Whoops...

I told the kids I’d get them McDonalds for dinner. After that whole ordeal and it being 5:30, hell no was I going home and trying to get dinner sorted. I knew I had a buy one, get one free Happy Meal coupon. I figured we’d end the day on a fun note. Who doesn’t love a Happy Meal! I mean, it was the least I could do after my son enduring the pain and my daughter having to witness it.

Upon reaching the drive through, I checked my McDonald’s app. I knew I had a paper coupon but thought the app had the same deal. I ordered and when I reached the pay window, realized the app deal was not that. It was buy a salad or meal and get a free Happy Meal. Fuck. I had that paper coupon though but no idea where it went. I had already told the guy I had it. That’s when you, the manager lady, came over to the window.

You saw the look on my face. You could tell I’d been through hell and back with this whole glass in my son’s foot ordeal without me having to say anything. I embarrassingly searched through my wallet and phone for the deal. It’s not like I couldn't afford two happy meals but I had a coupon! I could feel the tears start to well up in my eyes. I kept thinking in my head, this is nothing. Life could be so much worse. Just as I was about to throw my hands up and say forget it, I’ll just pay for both, you said, you know what, don’t worry about it. I’ll put in the coupon. I’m sure you have it somewhere.

Simple. You took my word and gave me the deal.

It was a very small gesture but relief washed over me. I felt like I was going to be okay. I made it through the day and you, a perfect stranger, had my back. So thank you lady at McDonald’s. You gave me a free Happy meal and gave his hard working, tired, stressed out momma a break.

Sincerely,

The mom who forgot her coupon

Grief, Withdrawals, Intense Love - First Day of School Eve

And so the summer is over. Lyla goes back to school in less than 12 hours. First grade!

It seems like just yesterday I was writing about her being ready for kindergarten. Even though we’ve jumped over that hurdle, I’ve been sitting here for days, weeks really thinking about what will happen when she goes back for first grade. And to be honest I’ve been avoiding it. But tomorrow, less than 12 hours away, I’ll be dropping her off with hugs and kisses and my daily reminders:

Be kind.

Be respectful.

Listen and have fun.

I asked her tonight, at bedtime, what she needs to remember for school. And she listed them out by memory. Be kind, momma. Be respectful, momma. I smiled and squeezed her so hard.

The summer flew by as it always does. I had every single day with her for the most part. Every day this summer we woke up together, we read together, we did silly things, we did fun things, we argued, we yelled, we cried, we did gymnastics, we did swimming, we took walks, we ate ice cream, we enjoyed each other. But now she’s going to be gone. Every day.

My six year old is my best friend and she’s off back at school every day. I miss her already. I’m having withdrawals already. I’m still awake late on first day of school eve willing it to go slower.

Next summer won’t be the same. Maybe when she’s seven, she’ll be too grown up for me. Maybe not. I hope not.

I took the this first day of school eve off so we could have a day for the 2 of us. We had no plans other than just to be together and have fun. We didn’t do anything crazy but it was just us and we let spontaneity get the best of us. We went where we felt at the time. Relaxing and fun. She told me tonight her favorite part of the whole summer was today. I told her my favorite part of my whole life is having her and her brother. I told her I couldn’t love her more if I tried.

Motherhood has seriously taken me to a place I’ve never been before. I can’t imagine not having this in my life. It’s the greatest gift and the greatest joy. It’s also my greatest sadness. I can’t keep them young forever. But I can hold on to them, love them senselessly, and cry for them as they grow up.

My ramblings will stop now. The tears have flowed and it’s getting really late. If you’re reading this A: I’m surprised I published this and B: I hope you’re a parent. Sometimes the emotions I feel as a parent are all over the place. I hope you can relate as a new school year kicks off.

For now, I’m going to get through drop off without any tears and when I get home, I’ll allow myself to grieve the summer. I’ll cry because I miss my little girl.

Finally Made the Cut

My son is one and a half. I finally allowed his hair to be cut. And not just a bangs trim, an actual cut.

Gone went the baby hair. Gone went the curly-qs. Gone went the wispy bangs. Gone.

I had been putting it off for ages. I was determined to grow my sons hair long. I just love little boys with longish hair. Plus the curls… sigh… I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, until today.

I decided it needed to be done but not because my family kept giving me a hard time about it. Which, let’s face it, they did constantly. Nag, nag, nag - from both sides of the aisle. Every time we were on Skype with my mother-in-law, she’d bring it up the entire time. My dad was making fun of him to me constantly (but if you know my dad, he’s just a pain in the ass anyway so I didn’t take him seriously at all).

I decided it needed to be done but not because people were mistaking him for a girl. He’s got blue plaid shorts on and blue/black sneakers but yeah he’s a girl… WTF. Whenever in doubt shut your mouth. He is all boy; long hair or not.

I decided it needed to be done but not because it’s super hot outside and he’s been battling it all summer in his face. The thick hair on his neck and the bangs in his eyes making him super sweaty.

He needed it done because the other day, I was looking at his gorgeous curls and stroking his bangs back. I was watching him whip his hair around to get it out of his face. He was swatting his bangs out of his face. I knew at that moment, I needed to cut it because I was being a selfish mother. I wanted him to be a baby still. I wanted that longish boy hair do. I wasn’t ready to cut off those baby curls yet. But he was ready.

He is no longer a baby, he is a toddler; a little boy with an incredible personality, so much love, and lots of mischief. He’s got places to be and toys to play with. Always on the go and so much light in his eyes, he is definitely no longer a baby. It was time I stopped being selfish and got his hair cut. Now he can see and he doesn’t have to swat the hair out of his face. Now he’s even more all boy but my baby he’ll always be.

And I didn't cry until just now...

It's All Fun and Games Until You Piss off a Toddler

All I did was fake cry and fake sad and he was legit upset about it! Enjoy!

Dear Final Five

Dear the Final Five team,

Gabby, Aly, Simone, Madison, and Laurie, I don’t know you but I’ve been watching your incredible performances for a few years. Gabby, when my daughter was two, she watched all of your routines in London on record for about 3-4 months. I signed her up for gymnastics right after that. She was obsessed and still is.

I wanted to write to you ladies to say thank you. Thank you for representing our country in such a classy, enthusiastic, and memorable way. Thank you for being the epitome of a stellar athlete. Thank you for your strength, your skills, and your positive body image for women everywhere. Most importantly, thank you for providing my daughter with the most incredible role models a child could ask for.

I watched your routines with a bated breath. I’ve always been in love with watching gymnastics. Gymnasts make what they do look incredibly effortless. I’m in awe how you can twist and bend your body. I’m in awe how you swing gracefully from bar to bar. I am flabbergasted how you can do the things you do on that tiny beam. It’s remarkable. It’s unbelievable. It’s incredibly beautiful.

Lyla - aspiring gymnast

My six year old daughter has high hopes. She loves gymnastics (as much as she loves me her mother, which she reminds me of daily!). We watched the Rio games, all of the gymnastics and she was in love. After every routine she would tell me what she liked about it. I would ask her if she wanted to do that one day and she’d nod her head enthusiastically. Then I’d ask her how you ladies can do all those amazing things and she’d say practice. I’d tell her lots of practice. I’ve reminded her many times that she can do anything she wants to do with hard work, perseverance, and passion.

She has loved everything about all of you this entire Olympics with the exception of your makeup! I think she was just jealous of all the sparkle!

We live in an amazing time with innovative technology, more opportunities than most in this world, and the reach of dreams right at our fingertips. My daughter can be anything she aspires to be. If she wants to make it to the Olympics someday or simply perform gymnastics for fun, she can do it. And no matter where she ends up, I know she’s got some amazing idols out there in you all.

So again, thank you for dedicating your young lives to this elegant sport and being there for all the young girls in America. Some day there will be a new Olympic champion and when they hang that gold medal around her neck, she’ll say she looked up to you.

Sincerely,

A Gymnastics Mom/Wannabe gymnast/Fan

Friday: I made it!

It's the end of the day Friday. In no particular order, today I:

1. Worked a full day from home.
2. Took care of two children the entire time, by myself.
3. Cleaned my house.
4. Made banana muffins from scratch.
5. Made chocolate chip cookies from scratch.
6. Packed a family of 3 for a week at the beach.

Just in case you were wondering, yeah, I'm pretty fucking awesome. It's only 8pm and I'm still standing baby! Bring on the booze!

I Lost a Baby

Ten years ago, I lost a baby.

Jared and I got married and had wanted to wait a few years before starting a family. We wanted to enjoy our time together and build a life before we welcomed children. We went to Hawaii on an incredible honeymoon and I came home pregnant. Whoops!

Having always wanted to be a mom, I was over the moon excited. It wasn’t what we had wanted but it happened and we couldn’t have been happier. Being young and naive, we told everyone, right away. Telling my family I was pregnant was probably the best feeling in the world. Jared and I couldn’t have been more proud and anxious to have that baby in our arms.

Eight weeks pregnant, the cramps and bleeding started and just like that, a life was gone. My world was shattered. I spent the entire summer mourning the loss of the baby and the loss of being a mom. I was a recluse. Miserable. I didn’t know how to continue on with life.

At one point, dear friends of mine actually forced me out but I was still bleeding pretty bad. We were out to eat and I came back from the bathroom soaked in blood. They took me next door to K-Mart and we got new undies and pants so I could continue on. Not a highlight of my life but I remember it like it was yesterday. I was so ashamed. Ashamed of the situation at hand. Ashamed I had lost the baby. It was my fault. But I had to move on. I wasn’t the first woman to have lost a baby and I wasn’t the last. It happens often, to many. And it truly wasn’t my fault but it just took me a while to realize that.

I don’t talk about my miscarriage often because so many sad, terrible memories come flooding back. But every once in awhile I think about how I’d have a ten year old daughter right now. Everything else in my life would be different.

A few years ago when Lyla was little she was sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch. She said to me something about her sister. I told her she was being silly and she didn’t have a sister. She insisted that she did too have a sister; a big sister and she was 7.

My mouth dropped open and I almost passed out right there on the floor. I don’t believe in ghosts or spirits or any of that crap honestly. But my little girl was so convinced that she had a big sister so at that moment in time I lost all sense of prohibition and allowed myself to believe. I believed that I had had a daughter who had passed and she was looking out for her little sis.

I never lost that baby, but she was there, somewhere.