Yesterday was rough. Really rough. I got my little one off to school and had a busy day planned. I got a text from my husband at 9 am. WE'RE OUT OF TRASH BAGS. Great. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it.
After work I dropped off my daughter at gymnastics and then went to pick up some things my 11 year old left over her friend's house this weekend. She left a jacket and a huge stuffed elephant. Like as big as her. How do you forget that?
I rushed home to make dinner. I was excited. I was making lemon pepper shrimp in a white wine butter sauce. Fancy. right? Well, I brought shrimp that wasn't deveined. It took forever to make the damn shrimp. I went to throw the peels in the trashcan and I forgot that we were out of trash bags. I grabbed a plastic grocery bag and hung it off the back door knob. Our makeshift trash bin.
After dinner I made a cup of coffee and rushed off to a PTA meeting. When I got home my youngest announced that we were out of shampoo and conditioner. I went upstairs to do laundry. The laundry room light went out last week so I've just been using the light from the hallway to do laundry. Well, the damn light bulb went out in the hallway.
Screw it. I can do laundry in the moon light. I fumbled around and opened the washing machine and immediately smelled mildew. CRAP! I left a load in there. I had to re-run it.
I went into the bedroom to get my pajamas and my 11 year old was asking me for help with her homework. I looked at it. It was talking about Associative Properties or something. I'm dumb and I don't understand much more than basic math. "Google it or ask dad." She pouted. Bad Mom Award.
Then my 9 year old comes up to me and is like, "My book bag ripped. Will you mend it?" Sure, in my spare time. I went to the sewing kit and I could not fine ONE sewing needle and there was no brown thread. I wanted to get her a good LL Bean Book bag but NO. She insisted on a pleather satchel from Target which is not falling apart a month after school started.
I didn't have time for that because I needed to make lunch. I went downstairs to make a chicken salad. I opened the fridge and saw a ton of Tupperware containers full of leftovers that had long gone bad. I decided that I wasn't going to clean them out. I'm going to throw them out. The pope is in the US talking about environmental issues and I'm just being a wasteful jerk. I'm terrible.
I'll deal with that later. I grabbed the mayo to make my chicken salad. I had barely any mayo left and I scraped the sides of the jar trying to get every last bit out. I was walking around in bare feet and kept stepping in something sticky. Gross. I pondered the last time I mopped the floor. I don't remember.
I cleaned up the kitchen a little bit and plopped down on the couch next to my husband. "We're having dinner for your sister's birthday on Sunday," he reminded me.
"I know."
"What are you getting her?"
"Nothing. She is 24. I don't get adults birthday presents. I'll buy her something when she's 30."
"You're the worst."
I am the worst. Hate myself. Then he asked, "Did you book the hotel for this weekend?"
We are going out of town Saturday and I failed to do that. I opened my laptop and prayed that there were rooms available. In the meantime, it was past 9 and both my kids were still awake. On a school night. Worst mom ever.
I have aspirations of having my crap together one day but things are looking pretty bad for me. I think I just need to lower my expectations for myself. I need a sister wife or something. How do other people do it?
I was sitting at the dining room table working at my computer this evening when my husband came home from work. He had a grin on his face and our daughter's phone in his hand. "She left her phone in my car this morning. You have got to read these texts." I gave him concerned look. "Is it bad?" He laughed. "Just read them." Yeah, we read our kids texts messages. We pay the bill, it's the rules.
The first one was from a random boy.
Random Boy: When can we?
My Daughter: When can we what?
RB: Date
MD: I'm not dating
RB: Why not?
MD: Because
RB: Please?
MD: Stop
RB: : (
My goodness. A little aggressive for 11, right? If you send my daughter a text that asks "When can we?" You will get blocked. Do these kids think that they're text messages are private?
Also, my daughter tell me a lot of things. She might not tell me everything but I know things. So be careful what you tell my daughter because she will tell me. The child can't hold water.
I don't know what these 6th graders think dating is. They aren't going to actually go on any dates. Maybe they'll sit together at lunch or something. Weirdos.
Then she got another text from a friend that said this: "Some boy told J who told W who told me that Hunter told him in library that he can't ask you out."
Well, that was very convoluted. Hunter has is setting the rule early. He changed his Instagram from "single" to my daughter being his best girl friend. Whatever that means.
I gave my daughter her phone back. "What's up with everyone wanting to "date"?"
She shrugged. "I don't know but I'm done with boys for a while."
"Me too."
"What about dad?"
"That's what I meant." haha.
There is something weird about the whole thing. Boys liking my daughter. I hate it so much.
On Friday night, I came home and collapsed into a heap on the couch. It was a long week. The kids came in and I asked them about their day. Everything seemed fine. My husband had a meeting in DC and wasn't getting back until late so it was going to be a girls night.
My 11 year old seemed not herself. A little more quiet than usual. "Are you okay? Did something happen today?"
She shrugged, "No, not really."
"Are you sure?" "Hunter told me he thinks we are better off as friends, so...." she said nonchalantly.
I knew it was coming. Three months is a long time in 6th grade. She didn't seem super bothered by it but her feelings were hurt. He already had updated his Instagram to "single" by 4 pm. OUCH.
Although I don't think boyfriends and girlfriends should be a thing in sixth grade - I was still highly offended. Who does he think he is breaking up with my daughter? She's the cutest. He hurt her feelings. Uggh.
As a consolation I took her out to dinner and ate the biggest brownie for dessert. Drizzled in caramel with ice cream on top. "Why does chocolate make everything better?" she asked. Spoken like a true fatty. She takes after her father and I.
I hate middle school. I wish we could go back to first grade some days.
My 9 year old was driving me crazy tonight. After she did her homework, I let her watch TV. When it was time to read this kid laid down and went on and on and on and on about how sore her muscles are. Whined for 10 minutes, "They hurt so bad!"
It's amazing that she can watch TV for an entire hour just fine but the minute she has to read her muscles hurt so bad that she can't concentrate. I can't deal.
My husband and I are going out of town this weekend and leaving the kids behind. I can't wait. Bye Felicia. Bad Mom Award.
It's Friday night and I am exhausted. You know, because I have a job now. I've been back to work for about a month now. I feel like I've just picked up where I left off. It's been a little adjustment but not bad at all.
I feel so grateful and so blessed to have almost 10 months off. I needed it. I worked super hard for many years working full time being a mom and a wife, managing a household, being involved in the kid's school, By the time I was laid off from my job I had been chewed up and spit out. I needed to rest, to return to my baseline, to re-connect and catch up on life.
I wasn't sure how it was going to pan out financially (we had after all lost over half of our income) but I had the support of my husband, I had prayed on it and I felt like God was telling me to be still. That's what I did. I was still, I counted my blessings, and I had faith that He had a plan for me.
What a wonderful time. I napped a lot. I regained my energy. I spent a LOT of time with the kids. Helping in their classrooms and hanging out after school. Fifth grade in the middle school was a tough adjustment for my daughter and it was good for me to be home.
For the first time in 7 years my kids had a lazy summer. They slept in, relaxed. There was no waking up to rush to camp. We had fun, we spent time together and we became closer as a family. I felt so fortunate. Not many people get to take a hiatus like that.
I was still but when it was time to go back to work, I knew it. I really love my new job and for the first time in forever - I don't feel guilty about working.
I don't understand the working mom vs. stay at home mom thing. When I was home the past year, I didn't feel less busy. I felt MORE busy. I just filled my days with different things. It's hard to be at home because people assume you just have a bunch of free time on your hands. You get roped into things that you wouldn't normally when you work during the day.
Cleaning the house is horrible. When I'm working, I don't give a shit about cleaning my house. Let the house be messy - I'm not home all day anyway. For years we paid to have the house cleaned weekly. That was a hard adjustment. I spent a lot of time trying to keep my house clean this past 10 months. I'm over it.
I don't have guilt anymore because my husband and I have flexible schedules. My husband can work from home when needed. We work hard but we work to live, we don't live to work.
I don't have guilt anymore because my kids are older. When you have young children and you are working you are constantly second guessing yourself. Wondering if you are making the right decision. Wondering if the kids will be alright. When I used to drop off my 3 year old to do to work, I'd be like:
Now that my kids are in 4th and 6th grade, I'm like:
My kids are at an age where they are so EASY. They do everything themselves now. The morning routine is not a struggle. They get their own clothes ready, wake up easily, and if they don't like what I made for breakfast they can fix something themselves.
Don't get me wrong, they are slobs but they clean up when I need them to. Their behavior most of the time is excellent. My 11 year old's mood swings have evened out a lot in the past 6 months. I feel like there is very little struggle. They don't cry every day anymore or fight me to go to bed. It is amazing. I don't know how long it will last but it's a good place to be.
I can have a career and be a mom and the kids will be all right. If I need to be home again in the future, then that will be all right too. We take one day at a time.
The big thing that I learned this year is that no one has it easy. Working moms and stay at home moms may have different challenges but neither is a walk in the park. Being a mom is hard - period. No matter what you do, you will always second guess yourself, people will always judge your decisions, your kids will still drive you crazy.
I'm owning my decisions and I'm not feeling bad about them. If my kids are alive, fed, clean, and have adequate clothing and shelter at the end of the day then I'm not doing that bad. They are LOVED. Good bye, mom guilt and good riddance!
Today I lost my mind on my 11 year old daughter. Lost it. I went into the bathroom to do my nails. My nails get so raggedy, especially my cuticles. I went into my bag and my cuticle cutters were missing. I felt the rage just build inside of me. The cuticle cutters are the last straw.
A few weeks ago I brought a manicure set, new nail files and clear nail polish just for my bathroom. The girls have their own. Literally a container of nail polish and files. Yet for some reason, everything slowly has disappeared from my bathroom. I confronted them about it and they both look at me like I'm out of my mind. "I don't know where your things could have went to." Maybe it's the ghost. Last week I splurged on a pair of $15 cuticle cutters. Nice ones that would hold up. Now those were missing too. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
I walked out of the bathroom in a rage, screaming at my daughter.
"I AM SO TIRED OF YOU GUYS TAKING MY SHIT ALL OF THE TIME. WHERE ARE MY CUTICLE CUTTERS?"
"They are in your make up bag?"
"No they aren't."
"Well, I don't have them."
"You were doing your nails."
"So what? Why do you always accuse me of things?"
"Because you guys ALWAYS take my things."
"I didn't take them."
I was red. I went into her room, then her bathroom, and then to the desk where she had been sitting doing her nails. Underneath a pile of acetone-soaked cotton balls that she had just left laying around were my cuticle cutters. Oh My God!
"These were on the desk where you were doing your nails."
She looked me dead in the face and said, "I didn't take them."
I was like:
"YOU CAN NEVER USE THE CUTICLE CUTTERS EVER AGAIN!!!!"
Did I overreact? Maybe. But it's more than just the cuticle cutters. The kids take everything that I buy for myself. Literally, everything. It's not even like they take things they don't have. They have nicer things than I do.
Like the other day I couldn't find my body spray. It was in my 9 year old's room. She has nice body spray from Bath and Body Works yet she still felt compelled to take my one body spray that I got from the dollar store. One of those "If You Like Green Emeralds...." kind of body sprays.
Make up. They also are going into my make up bag to "practice" putting on make up and doing makeup tutorials. Some mornings I can't even find my make up bag. I have to scour bedrooms. They have "practice" make up but NO they have to use mine. My 11 year old had the gall to say to me, "Mom, you need to get better make up. Your makeup is for amateurs. You need to start buying MAC."
First of all, I'm not going to buy good make up just so you, your sister, and your friends can use it all. Secondly, I just spent $500 this week on gymnastics uniforms and dance shoes so where is this magical MAC money coming from?
Clothes. I am a tiny person so they love to take my sweaters. My 6th grader will wear my flip flops and ALL of my pajama pants. She takes every pair.
Head phones. My oldest daughter has a bad habit of chewing on her headphone cords. I cannot tell you how many times I've yelled at her about it. She does it compulsively. She's like a kid that eats paint chips. She will chew a pair down until they stop working and then will steal mine. We've gotten wireless headphones but she doesn't like them. She will take my good headphones and replace them with her chewed up ones like I'm not going to notice. Makes me crazy.
Food. I try to hide food but it doesn't work. I purchased candy for a special event and hid it in the hall closet at the very top. On boxes and everything. I went to get it down and it was empty. These a-holes just took it upon themselves to eat the whole bag.
Money. God forbid I lay money down on the counter. That will disappear really quick. No one will admit to it.
It would be one thing if my kids used my stuff and then put it back but they don't. They just take things because they are mine and they think they are extensions of me or something. I knew when I had kids that things would never be the same but I didn't realize that if you push a human out of your vagina they will take literally everything you own.
I was already pissed off then I walked into their bedrooms, and their bathroom and saw all the crap they put in my room. They will make a mess in their space so they just move on to mine. After I was done cutting my cuticles I surveyed the damage. More screaming.
"YOU GUYS ARE SLOBS. GET OFF THE SIMS AND CLEAN YOUR BATHROOM AND GET YOUR CRAP OUT OF THIS ROOM. NOW!!!!"
We are buying our house. Well, technically it's not our house but it feels like our house. We've lived here for 4.5 years. That's longer than anywhere else in our marriage. We moved 7 times in the first 9 years of our marriage. Four of those moves were cross country. It makes my head spin just thinking about it. I can move in a moments notice.
This is the third house we're buying. We're hoping that the third time is a charm. We aren't going in with high expectations. When you buy your first house you are full of such dreams. You imagine frolicking through the living room, christening the dining room table, placing fresh flowers on the end table every Sunday. Life will be good.
That was my dream when we purchased our first house. We had just moved back to Oklahoma. We closed on New Years Ave 2004. I was 20 and my husband was 21. We felt so grown up. It was a cute little house, built in the late 60s. The front of the house was adorned with....wait for it....lava rocks. I am not shitting you, actual lava rocks were sticking out the front of the house.
We negotiated with the seller to have the pink shag rugs replaced but there were hints from the 60's still hanging around like the a weird shaped built-in book shelf, the gold specked counter tops, green sink and brown built-in stove. We had a big fenced in back yard with a beautiful view of Mount Scott. The skies in Oklahoma are so blue.
We did fix up the house (as much as we could afford to). We painted, planted flowers and took out the crazy 60's book shelf. It was a happy home. It was ours.
It was even ours on the day that the bathtub and shower started filling up with sewage. I called my husband at work. "Honey, you have to come home. There's shit in the tub."
"What?"
"Just come home."
Roots. Roots that were growing through the sewage pipe in the backyard. I stood there in the backyard, 8 months pregnant with my second child while I watched the plumber work. I cried when he told me how much it would be. The only silver lining was that my husband had to clean up the shit since I was pregnant.
It was our house when my husband's job transferred him and we went to sell it and were given a list of repairs to be done. I learned how to MAKE window screens and fix garage doors that week.
Our tiny little rancher house in Oklahoma was the only house that I was ever sad to leave. We had so many happy memories there. My youngest daughter was born in the back bedroom. The house represented love and new life to me.
The next house we owned was a tiny bungalow in Indianapolis. It was built in 1929. It had it's original wood with built-in bookshelves. Many of the windows were original. This was not a good thing but I was 22 and had little need for practicality. Some of the light fixtures were original (and the knob and tube wiring), the walls were plaster, we had a beautiful porch and swing. It even had a white picket fence.
We were unprepared for a historic house like that. The Indianapolis winter was hard, especially with drafty windows. After only 3 months in the house it's bath tub also filled up with shit. Roots! We lived on the edge of the ghetto and our air conditioning unit was stolen for the copper. I had my car stolen from the front yard. The last straw was when we had our garage broken into and the kid's wagon stolen. My husband's father died shortly after we moved into the house.
Although the children were young and precious -it was not the happiest place or happiest time for us. When we left Indianapolis we filled our cars with as much as we could and sold everything else. We headed South for a new life and a new beginning. Good riddance!
We did start a new life and we've been so blessed here. Everything has happened the way that it was meant to. When we moved into this house over 4 years ago we were still trying to decide where we wanted to live. I'd told my husband that the next house I buy is the last one. I'll live in it until I'm old.
After 4 years of living in this house, it needs a little TLC. A fresh coat of paint everywhere, the carpet upstairs needs to be replaced, we want new appliances and to do some landscaping. So, we asked our landlord if he'd sell us the house and he said yes. No realtors, the purchase agreement was written up on a napkin practically. haha. We close in 20 days. We are going to paint in 21 days.
It may be the death of us. My husband and I have very different styles. My husband wants to paint every room in the house green. Every one. I said, "I want to paint the kitchen blue." He responded, "What about green?"
"The dining room is already green."
"What about a different shade of green?"
"No. You only get one green room."
"I want to paint the bedroom gray."
"I was thinking like a sage."
"Christ! Sage is green. Stop with the green."
We went to Lowes to get something today and he kept pointing to green curtains. Kill me.
We also want to replace the upstairs carpet with wood. I think carpet is ideal upstairs but my husband and my youngest daughter have awful allergies and I think getting rid of the carpet will help.
My 11 year old was like, "I think we should do dark wood."
"No. We are going to match the wood to the wood downstairs."
"Then I want carpet."
"No. We are doing to have wood that matches downstairs."
"Well, it's my house too."
I laughed out loud. "You paying the mortgage?"
I can tell you that a few months ago she would be snarky and say, "Well, dad is paying the mortgage - not you!!!!" But now I have a job so she can't talk shit anymore.
Then my 9 year old told me she wasn't going to invite any friends over and called me "ghetto as crap" because I want to paint the front door red. Ghetto as crap. Nice, real nice. I'm obviously doing a horrible job at raising these kids. Bad Mom Award.
I thought dealing with my husband's input was annoying, I also have 2 kids that have opinions about things. Damn it!
So we are buying this house. It's not my dream house. I always imagined that I'd live in a house like this:
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It would have a gourmet kitchen and a sun room. A library that I'd sit in every morning with a cup of tea and read the complete works of E.E. Cummings and Emily Dickinson.
Consuela would come everyday to clean. The detached garage would have a Benz in it and an Escalade that we only drive for long trips. We'd hold garden parties and dinner in our dream house.
As time has gone on, my idea of what my dream house is has changed for sure. This house is not perfect. It's small - only 1,600 square feet. The bush in the front yard is dying. There is a 2 year old stain in the carpet in front of our bathroom from when my daughter vomited all over, the fridge creaks, there is a patch in the hallway wall from where my daughter kicked it in a rage, the grass in the backyard is a little patchy....
I could go on and on. But if you can look past those things you can see the beauty here. This is a house that has seen many happy times. It's where we truly have come together and forged ourselves as a family. It's where we have gathered around on Sunday dinner. In this house is the sound of laughter, children running up and down the stairs and jumping on the bed. This house has hosted Christmas dinner, Thanksgiving, and Easter.
This house is surrounded by the people that we love. A father, a mother and 2 sisters who are close by. Neighbors who will borrow a cup of sugar or an egg. Neighbors who will text at 9 at night to share a watermelon, neighbors who will help me open a jar of spaghetti sauce when my husband isn't home and who lend an ear and friendship.
Our neighborhood is full of children. Children that we've grown to love. An impromptu game of kick ball, bike rides around the loop, and just running around in the street at dusk are common occurrences here. There is something beautiful and nostalgic about it.
This house is home to us. I can't wait for it to be ours. Even if the bathtub fills up with shit and the air conditioner goes out. This is where our heart is. It least it doesn't have lava rocks.
The other morning I was running around like a chicken without a head and my 11 year old decided that she was going to make scrambled eggs for breakfast for herself and her little sister. She made the eggs, sprinkled them with cheese and added a side of cantaloupe and laid the plates down on the table.
She called my 9 year old down. She sat down at the table, looked at the plate and said, "I don't want eggs." My 11 year old literally lost it.
She put her hand on her hips and said, "What do you mean you don't want eggs?!?!?! I made eggs special for you and you don't even appreciate it. You are so ungrateful."
Chills ran down my spine. I was like I was outside of my body watching myself. It is so strange when you hear you hear yourself come out of your child. It was frightening.
She did it again in the car on the way to school. Somehow we got to talking about the electric bill and I asked the neighbor boy if his mom gets mad about the electric bill. My daughter piped up. "This is what my mom does. She opens the electric bill and then comes into my room and says, "Why is your light on? It's the day time." She said it in my voice with my inflection. She might turn into me. I feel kind of bad for her about it.
She is right, I do lose my mind about the electric bill. Every time I get the electric bill and go through the house and unplug everything. I ask why the ceiling fan is on in rooms that are unoccupied. If someone turns down the air conditioning I'm like: "If you're hot take off your pants or sit in a cold bathtub." I'm the worst.
The electric bill last month was like, $400. We live in a small house and keep the AC at 78. That is just unacceptable. The damn electric company keeps raising rates. Why are people not outraged? Why is there allowed to be a monopoly? Why aren't lawyers looking into this? I'm ready to take to the streets about it. If I had a pitchfork I would show up outside their offices with it.
THE ELECTRIC BILL IS TOO DAMN HIGH!!!! YOU'RE A BUNCH OF CROOKS!!!!
Anyway, as if opening the electric bill yesterday wasn't enough of a shocker, my 9 year old came up to me at breakfast this morning and asked, "Mom, what's morning wood?"
Christ Almighty, I can't deal with questions like that early in the morning.
"Where did you hear that?"
"I don't remember." Liar.
"What do you think it means?"
"It's something to do with boys."
"Let's talk later but do me a favor and don't repeat it please."
I can imagine that phone call coming from school. She didn't remember to bring it up this evening but when she does I'll just say it's when 84 Lumber has a sale before noon. Kill me.
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