The Fear of “What If?”

Sep19

It’s possible that the longer that John and I go on being parents, the worse we get. Now, I can hear you all protesting already, but hear me out. In the beginning, when you bring a new baby home and are suddenly faced with, you know, keeping it alive you try really hard to make sure you don’t mess it up. And as the kids grow and hit new milestones you continue to try really hard not to mess it up because, “WHAT IF?” Those are the two scariest words ever when you are a new parent.

But life happened and John and I went back to doing what John and I do (mainly activities that involve an avoidance of early mornings executed with spontaneous but poor planning) and we discovered that most of the “WHAT IF?”s are actually not so bad. I’m pretty sure my kid ate part of a dead shrew once… she was fine. Another of my girls wore the same dress for a week, child protective services did not take her away from me. I have experienced forgotten water bottles, snacks, diapers, wipes, wallet, shoes and underwear not to mention winter jackets on a Northern Wisconsin trip in December.

And you know what? It was all fine.

Inconvenient? Yes.

Fine? Absolutely.

Does this make us look like stellar parents? Probably not. Are our kids learning to take extra responsibilities for themselves because their mom is never going to actually remember to pack anyone a snack? I sure hope so.

This brings us to John’s company sponsored trip to the zoo this last weekend. Parents still in the “WHAT IF?” stage would have done a fabulous job of planning the day. Free zoo pass, multiple free animal shows to watch, free food over the lunch hours, free face painting… Jane It was going to be awesome!

But… zebra

-John and I let all our kids have sleepovers the night before.

-Which of course had us leaving much later than we should have in the morning (and yes all the kids were tired and grumpy).

-Which meant that we had to feed them on the way to the zoo.

-Which of course we didn’t plan for because of the free food at the zoo.

-Which meant that when we got to the zoo they weren’t hungry and because patience has never been my strong suit, I encouraged us to go see animals and come back later.

-Of course we lost track of time and missed the food.

-Of course we lost track of time and missed the animal shows.

-Of course we ended up having to feed the kids on the way home because they were starving.

-And, of course, at one point we looked wistfully at a family with coolers and snacks and water bottles and a child being pulled in a wagon and wondered why we didn’t do that. taiper

But I know why we didn’t, we’ve lost our fear of the “WHAT IF?”

And now I can tell you, What if you go to the zoo completely unprepared over tired and miss almost all the “good” stuff.

Well… Jane Clara and a lion

You’ll still get to be eyeball to eyeball with the big cats. Watching the giraffe run will still amaze everyone. There will still be contests to see who can find the animal in each exhibit first and the kids will still have to pull the two of us away from the octopus. You will spend too much on a snack, or two, it’s true. And there will be whining kids. (But isn’t there always?) You will discover that everyone would actually rather see the velvet peeling off the caribou’s antlers than watch the sea lion show anyway and you’ll teach your child that tapirs are not the same as armadillos. Your lack of handy wheeled device to carry all your nonexistent snacks will have you zipping in and out of all the exhibits and when a tired little girl says she can’t walk anymore, you can sympathize with her tired legs and skip to the next animal house together. Me and Jane (Clara too)

Yes, we’ve lost most of our fear of those two words, for certain we would be better prepared parents if we carried a bit of that fear with us still but I think we are doing just fine without it.

How Do You Do It?

Apr25

“How do you do it?” is a question that gets posed to me on a semi-regular basis.

It’s usually when I’m out in public where my three girls always behave closer to something resembling angels than the screaming devils I know them to be within the confines of our home. And it often follows on the heels of me talking about bees, or chickens, or blogging, or just having three children dressed and out of the house.

And though I’ve been hearing this, likely, rhetorical question for years now, it shocks me a little bit every time. Why is someone asking me that?

How do I do it?

With caffeine, alcohol and under eye cream.

With a deliberate lack of sleep, a great husband and good friends.

With afternoon naps, good books and morning tea. apple blossom

How do I do it?

I don’t care what the kids wear so long as they’re dressed.

Ditto for myself.

I don’t care if the girls have brushed their hair so long as they can see where they are going.

Ditto for myself.

I don’t care if the kids have shoes on unless we are in a restaurant or grocery store.

Ditto for myself. apple blossom

How do I do it?

I blog and bake and read.

I raise chickens and bees and pigs.

I workout and canoe and play capoeira. apple blossom

How do I do it?

With snuggly mornings, hugs in the afternoon and I love you’s at bedtime.

With book reading, coloring and baseball games.

With giggles, smiles and overly loud whispers in my ear. apple blossom

How do I do it?

My house is messy – and I can live with that.

My truck is a disaster area – and I can live with that.

I haven’t gotten a week’s worth of decent sleep in ten years – and I’m still alive. apple blossom

How do I do it?

I do it the same way you do.

I do it one day at a time.

One smile at a time.

One screaming tantrum at a time.

One stolen moment of peace and chocolate in the bedroom closet at a time.

One sustaining hug from my husband at a time.

One phone call to a friend at a time.

One moment of wonder at a time. apple blossom

And so, when someone asks me how I do it I tend to trip over my tongue and mumble a bit. I don’t know what to say, and I’m not sure why they are asking me. Because I do it the same way everyone else does, no matter what they have chosen to fill their lives with.. Some days I do it poorly and some days I do it well and some days it’s all I can do just to do it.

Just like you.

Getting Back to Awesome

Apr18

If you are going to have kids at the same time as your best friend it will initially be kind of awesome.

Or, rather, as awesome as things can be when two sleep deprived people get together with hungry, crying infants on their own separate sleep schedules. So, basically, just like being at home except that when you are still in your pajamas at eleven in the morning covered in milk stains and spit up, your company will smell just like you. Jessie, Sarah, Ivy and Natalie

Eventually the time will come when you get talking, walking kids together. When that happens you can watch the remaining awesome dissipate like mist in the sun as the first kid declares, “Mine!”

As we are now painfully aware, one and two year olds mostly just horde toys and fight. So a “fun” weekend together will in actuality turn out to be exhausting weekends of parallel parenting while refereeing wrestling matches over the toy of the moment. Of course this stage is relatively short lived but, if you do it like my best friend and I did, just as one starts getting out of the wrestling match stage another new kid shows up until you suddenly look at each other and wonder how you produced six kids when the oldest is only four.

But I’ve got good news. If you can just hold on, through the insanity, the lack of sleep, and the toy wars, in just a few short years (nine short years to be exact) the kids will grow up enough that the biggest problem is that no matter how many plates of food you serve, as soon as the food is put away, one of them will show back up in the kitchen proclaiming, “I’m hungry!”

My friend and I… we seem to have made it out the other side. This spring we got together for multiple days of actual, real life, fun.

Yes, dinner time was hectic and there was still plenty of refereeing to be done. But at the end of the day we put the kids to bed early and fell back into our old habits of staying up too late laughing until we cried.

If you are going to have kids at the same time as your best friend, initially it will be kind of awesome.

And then it won’t.

But don’t give up, best friends can always make it back to awesome, eventually…

Of course those friends might not have a picture of themselves taken together since those first kidos were born, but I’m sure that’s just part of the awesome that is yet to come!

Starting The Day Off Right

Jan10

I remembered the incredulity as I dropped the kids off at school this morning. The sad scorn I felt for those parents that would send their poor children off to a long day of school without a proper breakfast. They were heavy on my mind, those poor nutrition-less children and the worries that surround them. How could they make it through a day of learning and activity without a good healthy start to the day?

I was thinking about those deprived children because I had just watched in the review mirror as my own kids ate old stale Cheetos from a bag Clara found in the back. I had just thought how odd it was that they’d even want to eat something like that much less in the morning right after – Oh shit!

I forgot to feed my kids breakfast.

I dropped them off, wished them well, figured it was a good thing we never clean the truck and that Clara gets a snack within an hour of getting to school. Made a mental note to be nicer in my head to people because you never know what the circumstances might be and headed to the gas station.

I got out to pump gas and looked down at my slippers.

Moral of the story: Don’t judge, you never know what motherhood may do to you.

Other moral of the story: Some people just don’t do mornings.

Blogging the Moments

Dec29

Christmas Day we took a walk down to the unfrozen lake to catch a beautiful, peaceful and serene sunset. Sunset at the lake At least, it looks that way after my efforts in Photoshop.

In actuality that moment, like the rest of our Christmas break, was full of kids (our three plus my two year old nephew), numerous dogs and not quite enough tired adults to field all the whining, barking, “Look at me!”‘s ,rolling in dead fish, crying and bouncing off the walls that was going on.

There has been a huge amount of material written about how we skew our internet presence to make our lives look better than they are. And to that I say, of course! I’m not taking a selfie in the clothes I’m wearing. Nobody wants to see the jeans I’ve been wearing for three days, combined with the top I worked out in, while I sport my “hairstyle” created through the subtle use of pony tails, sweat, and winter hats. Including me.

Including me.

I blog because I’m trying hard not to become one of the ferrets that eats it’s own young.

I blog because, if I look at this picture and squint just right, I can see all the fun, giggles, snuggling cousins and laughter that was mixed in the chaos.

I blog because sometimes, in the midst of the snot and the tears and the stinky dogs and the whining, it’s hard to remember that those happy moments are existing right along side. But if I share a moment like the one above, I’m sure to remember that life with kids is more than just accidents on the floor, snot on my shirt and sleepless nights.

I don’t need any help remembering what sort of mess I look like today, all that takes is a mirror.

I Created The Monster

Nov2

I created the monster.

Well, that one too, but that’s not the one I’m talking about.

No, the monster I’m talking about is the one that rears it’s ugly head every year at Halloween when I try to tell my children to wear weather appropriate clothes with their costumes.

Probably if I told them to wear weather appropriate clothes more often, this wouldn’t be an issue. But that’s not my way. I’m more of a, “Alright if you don’t want to wear your hat/shirt/shoes/pants/jacket/socks/mittens that’s fine,” sort of mom. I’m a, “Sure you can wear a tank top in October but grab a sweatshirt to leave in the truck just in case,” kind of mom. I’m a, “My kids are smart and will put on clothes when they are cold,” kind of mom. Most importantly I’m a choose your battles kind of mom.

And when it comes to battles, I never choose clothes.

Except.

Except on Halloween. Wicked Witch Ivy and Clara Bee

Because cold children and trick or treating go poorly together and when one ridiculous evening of candy gathering (don’t get me wrong I love the candy) is hyped for weeks and costumes are gathered (thank you Grandma Pat), the last thing I want after experiencing the horrid-ness that is Halloween (I’m a Halloween hating curmudgeon, it’s true) is for all that effort turns into snot nosed, whining, crying, cold children who need to cut the evening short where they (and I) will be devastated by their meager candy haul. (Miniature Milky Way bars are the only thing that continues to ensure my participation in this terrible holiday.)

And so on Halloween I tell my children to wear more clothes. This is a direction that is so unpracticed on both the directing and the receiving end that to call it a lead balloon would be a kindness.

This year, I eventually remembered that I’m a choose your battles kind of mom, threw my hands in the air and we left the house looking like this.

While I personally feel that that picture contains a lot of cuteness it’s totally lacking in clothing for weather befitting a drizzly October evening in Wisconsin.

Ivy had cold toes and Clara had cold fingers and Jane was frozen all over. Not that that meant she wanted to put her shoes on. So John and I stood at the end of many sidewalks and showed concerned citizens of our town that our pockets had both sweatshirts and shoes for the small purple princess who was shivering as she slowly minced down the sidewalk after us.

It was just after John made the comment that perhaps we should take away her crown and give her a box of matches that she was done. John took her back to the warmth of the truck while I continued to follow the others through the town. To their credit none of them whined about the cold. They just talk about it in an, “Oh my gosh I can’t even feel my toes” sort of incredulity as they marched on through the ghoul-filled darkness.

It’s true, I created the monster.

And I’m ok with that because for the other 364 days of the year it’s a monster that serves us well.

As for Halloween, well, I’ve never liked it anyway.

Except for those mini Milky Way bars…

Weekly Photo Challenge: Careful

Oct29

Weekly Photo Challenge: Careful

I suppose one could call out to the three year old with the dozen eggs traipsing around outside in nothing but her swimsuit on a chilly October day to be careful.

But I don’t.

I’m not that kind of parent.

She knows all about broken eggs. She knows what breaks them and what to do with the broken ones. She’s been there and she’s done that.

And after a few run-ins with thistles, raspberry canes and other less desirable things, she knows how to watch what she’s stepping on.

And as for the swimming suit, all you grandmas out there shivering just looking at her, will be glad to know that after an hour or so she told me she was going inside to warm up.

I could tell her to be careful.

But I won’t.

Good Vs. Great

Jun9

It’s not that hard to be a good mom. You love your kids. You try to do what’s best for your entire family. You make mistakes, your kids make mistakes. You love them anyway and you try again.

Good moms come in every make and model.

Good moms are everywhere.

But great moms. Great moms are amazing. Because great moms have one thing mastered that us good moms are still just grasping at.

Timing.

That’s right, the difference between good and great all comes down to timing.

For example, when do you feed the kids. Well, you don’t want to feed them too early, they won’t be hungry yet. Not hungry kids, don’t eat unless you are feeding them nothing but ice cream and popcorn. And us good moms only do that on occasions that really warrant it, like Tuesdays. So, on those non-ice cream/popcorn days, if the kids aren’t hungry the kids don’t eat. Which means that approximately 20 minutes after dinner is cleaned up, the kids will be in the kitchen wanting food.

All moms dislike this.

Of course if you feed the kids too late then you create small ravenous monsters. Monsters who will dissolve into tears and cries of “That’s not fair!” when the table is set and the food won’t be ready for another ten minutes (true story). Monsters that will argue with everyone, cry, fight and become so upset that they can’t eat dinner. Which means that approximately twenty minutes after dinner is cleaned up the kids will be in the kitchen wanting food.

All moms dislikes this.

I’m certain that great moms, can sense the exact moment to start dinner so that it will be ready just as the children become hungry enough to eat and yet not so hungry as to attempt to eat each other.

It all comes down to timing.

Bedtime is another prime timing example. Put the little darlings to bed too early and you’ve earned yourself an extra long session of, “One more drink, Please one more book, I just have to go potty, I’m not tired…” But too late and overtired mania will kick in. And, as everyone knows, overtired mania turns children into tornadoes that swirl around the house causing disruption and destruction everywhere they go.

Also tornadoes do not sleep.

Great moms no doubt sense that the precise moment of sleepiness coming at least a half hour before it happens so they can calculate back when to start brushing teeth. Great moms with their great timing earn themselves a calm and lovely evening tucking in their children, once, before moving on with their night.

It all comes down to timing.

Us good moms try our best. Sometimes we touch greatness for a moment and sometimes we miss it. Sometimes life is grand when everything falls into place and sometimes life’s a mess with a pack of overtired hungry monsters.

But we are good moms, so we love them anyway and try again.

Oh, but to be a great mom and have that timing figured out…

Motherhood, A Frighteningly Forgetful State

Feb16

In my experience when you become a mother, especially after you have become a mother three times over, you forget things.

And by things, I mean everything.

I forget to eat breakfast.

Each time I leave the house I forget my wallet, my sunglasses or my car keys.

Sometimes I forget all three.

Last week I had to jump out of the truck and go back to the house for my forgotten jacket. It was 3° … Fahrenheit.

I have found that it is annoying to forget kids shoes when you go to the grocery store but a serious inconvenience to forget your own.

I discovered that not only is it both annoying and a serious inconvenience, it is also embarrassing and possibly unsafe, to forget your kids snow gear when you travel north for the holidays.

I forget meals and dishes, laundry in the washing machine and to take my contacts out. I forget to call people, cut the low hanging branch over the sidewalk, find a dustpan for the garage, clean out the truck and which kids is named what. I forget to paint my toes, where I left my shoes, what I did with my tea and to sign Ivy’s schoolwork.

To date I haven’t yet forgotten that I have children but at the rate I’m going I figure it’s only a matter of time. Preparing for the worst I have come up with a test in case I ever become confused on the subject.

It’s very simple, if you are a mother and can’t remember if you have kids or where they might be, take a nap.

That’s right, find a blanket, lay down on a couch in front of a fire and fall asleep.

Guaranteed reminder of your current motherhood status.

And yes, Clara was just about a sick and she looks, I was just as tired as I appear and Jane was being just as mischievous as her smile makes her out to be!

“Uh-oh.”

Oct20

“Uh-oh.”

It is the phrase I have attempted (with help from Jim & Charles Fay and twenty billion reminders from John) to teach myself. It is the phrase that insistently lets the kids know they are in trouble yet gives me time to think what to do next. It is the phrase that can stop my mouth from uttering ridiculous edicts before my brain has a chance to think about them. It is the phrase that keeps me from saying, “That’s it! You are never getting a glass of water again!” when confronted with a mess purposefully made with a glass of drinking water. It is a good phrase.

But now I have a problem. Jane is beating me to the “Uh-oh.” Now I walk in a room and I don’t even have to scan for issues, I just listen. If I hear “Don’t say ‘Uh-oh’ Mom! Don’t say “Uh-oh’!” I know there is trouble in the making.

Yes, I can hear you laughing from here and you can stop anytime now. Because seriously. Seriously. Does she really think she can get away with all sorts of trouble just by talking fast and looking cute!?! Talk about an attitude guaranteed to make a mothers blood pressure spike!

After all, that’s my line! I get to say “Uh-oh!” I get to use that to pause, and breath, and refrain from issuing crazy threats or giving her to the next delivery man that knocks on the door. I say “Uh-oh.” Don’t be stealing my line Jane- I need it and unless you want to be shipped to Abu Dhabi ala Garfield, you do too!

Furthermore, frantically repeating “Don’t say ‘Uh-oh’ Mom! Don’t say “Uh-oh’!” while continuing to do the offending activity lets me know, not only, that she knows that she shouldn’t be doing whatever it is she’s doing but also that she thinks she can get away with continuing what she’s doing right in front of me if she’s a fast enough talker.

But the really big problem is that Jane is awful cute and listening to her panic as she tries to finish getting into trouble is, admittedly, pretty hilarious.

Which means that it’s true. She can totally get herself out of trouble and keep her mother smiling if she’s a fast enough talker.