My life has been so cray cray lately. My head is spinning. We are so busy in this house that I feel like half the time I don't know the month, day or year. Sometimes I don't even know who I am.
I was a hot mess today. I woke up at 6 am and was busy getting ready, putting breakfast on the table, making lunches. I came back home and I had the termite bond guy show up at my house at 8 am. I had a conference call to get on, so much work to do. I felt frantic. The termite guy was like, "I need to get in your garage."
I was mortified. My garage is an episode of Hoarders. I have kitchen appliances, a million empty boxes. I kept apologizing. "Sorry my garage should be on Hoarders." "Excuse the mess." "It's not usually like this."
Why do I feel the need to explain myself to the termite man? Also, who do I think I'm kidding? It is usually like this. The only time it's not is the 5 minutes after I clean it. I swear to God my whole house has never been clean at the same time. NEVER. I give up. I'm a hot mess.
At least I have the kids to keep things humorous. You never know what is going to come out of the mouth of my 9 year old. We were watching a movie on Saturday and in the movie the mom was upset that the husband was not spending enough time with the family. The lady in the movie said, "Tom has worked every weekend since Christmas." My 9 year old blurted out: "He's having an affair. He's probably on Ashley Madison."
Yes, those words came out of the mouth of my 4th grader. "How do you know about Ashley Madison?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. It was in the news." Great. It reminded me of the time that she told me that my husband and I should watch 50 Shades of Grey for our wedding anniversary. She's a hot mess.
Hot mess number 3 is my 11 year old. I was laying in bed the other night and she walks in, stands at the edge of my bed and says, "We need to get rid of all of my clothes." Can't she ever come in my room and tell me something good like offer to fold the laundry or something?
"Why are we getting rid of all your clothes?"
"Because I'm going for a new look."
"What kind of look is that?"
"Kind of hipster, but a little bit of goth but kind of girlie."
I don't even know what that means. "We can get some outfits but we are not getting rid of all of your clothes. I also get ultimate veto power."
She shrugged and stuffed the earbuds back into her ears. "Whatever."
There is never a dull moment in my house never. I have to go to bed now. My thoughts are not linear. I don't even know who I am.
I'm turning 32 tomorrow. I used to feel like I was old. I'm an old soul, I fit so much of my life milestones into my 20s. I felt old when I was 26, had been married for 8 years, and had a 1st grader and a preschooler, was working in middle management.... and all my peers were like:
Nothing makes you feel old like talking to an old friend and they are like, "My roommate and I were up until 2 and I am so hung over. I slept like all day." and I'd be like, "Well, I went to bed at 9 pm last night, my taxes are due and I have to go now because I'm pretty sure the screaming in the background is my kids trying to kill each other."
Now, in my 30s, most of my peers have caught up. They are married, have a few kids, understand the sleep deprivation and the pressures of making a living and raising up little human beings. I've been doing it for a while longer, but we are on the same page. It makes me feel not so old anymore.
Now, I feel like I am YOUNG. Like, really young. I am 32 years old! I feel like I have more freedom and opportunity now than I have felt in my whole life. My kids are old enough to be almost totally self-sufficient. Don't get me wrong, they give me a hard time but I'm not wiping asses or retrieving snacks and sippy cups, they sleep finally. They have the ability to clean and fold laundry. They are amazing human beings and I'm glad that I've had them in my life for so long.
I've been married for 13.5 years. It took a good 10 years to figure this whole thing out and recover from the stress of having young children. We really know each other and we have our shit together. We are a good team, a well oiled machine, we have worked so hard and it doesn't feel so much like work anymore. The kids are old enough that they leave us alone long enough to watch a movie together, we can leave to go to the gym for an hour. It is amazing.
It's been 9 years since I graduated from college. How good it feels to have it that far behind me. I've have enough work experience now that I feel like I can do so many things, have so many options. I feel like the world is my oyster. I have 35 years of work left. Who knows what amazing things I'll wind up doing or where I'll be? Opportunities abound.
For many years I felt like I had to justify my decisions, I felt like I had something to prove. I've worked so hard to build a good life. I've been very fortunate and blessed. The way my life has turned out has far exceeded my expectations. I feel like everything has happened the way it was supposed to.
The best part about 32 is that I am old enough and feel like I have enough tenure to not give a sh*t.
I don't care what people think, I do what I want to do, I don't put up with bullshit, I've got nothing to prove. I've accepted who I am as a person.
I think 32 is going to be great. I'm actually really liking my 30s. I don't mind getting older, it beats the alternative. Life is good!
I feel like there is baby fever going on. Everyone is having a baby. I'm just over here like, "Why are you doing that to yourself?" I'm feeling very cynical about motherhood right now because I am 100% sure that my children are trying to push me over the edge. It's all fun and games when they are little, cute and squishy but they turn into these human beings that are just the worst.
My 11 year old has this new thing where she hibernates in her room all the time. I pop in occasionally to see what she's up to, see if she want's a meal...make sure she's still alive. She's always on her phone, reading a book, drawing on her chalk board wall, in some stage of cleaning her room.
Last night, I built a fire. I called her down and offered to make hot chocolate. "We can watch a show together. I'll let you pick out the show. Any show you want." She shook her head. "Nah, I'm good." I was exasperated. "What is going on with you? We need to spend time together as a family."
"I don't want to."
"Why not?"
"You're embarrassing."
"How? No one else is around. How can you be embarrassed."
"Just being around you is embarrassing to myself."
"What do I do that is embarrassing?"
"Just being yourself."
Wow. Just Wow. F*cking really? What do I say to that? Just being WHO I AM is so embarrassing to my sixth grader that she can't stand to be in my mere presence.
I sent her back to the room. I give up. The only time I'm not embarrassing to her is when she wants me to buy her something. Ugggh. I am so over it. Tired of her.
You would think my 9 year old would be better. No, I feel like being around her lately is like walking on eggshells. Her moods are a roller coaster and you never know what you are going to get. Yesterday morning I told her she had better hurry up because it was time for school, she literally lost her mind. I didn't yell it, I wasn't annoyed. I simply said, "You'd better hurry up. You have to leave in 5 minutes."
YOU ALWAYS STRESS ME OUT. YOU ARE THE WORST MOM EVER. I LITERALLY HATE YOU.
I was just like,
That's a slight over reaction.
Anything can bring that reaction. I pour lemonade instead of milk.
I HATE MILK. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYTHING THAT I LIKE! YOU ARE HORRIBLE!
They are horrible assholes to each other. It was so bad at dinner tonight that I lost my crap. My youngest was slurping her soup so my oldest called her an idiot, which caused my youngest to explode and tell her to go to hell. UNACCEPTABLE. I took away their phone and TV privileges. They cried and screamed and protested.
"I am tired of your nasty attitudes, we do not talk to each other like this. I am not going to take verbal abuse in this house."
My 11 year old mumbled under her breath. "Maybe you shouldn't have had kids if you don't want to live like this." I wanted to face punch her. But I didn't because I have the patience of a saint. I took a deep breath, got up from the table and just left.
Please pray for me. Pray for my patience and sanity. Every day I feel like I've gotten the s**t beat out of me. This is me and my husband at the end of the day:
I remember when the kids would wake up in the morning and be delighted to see me, when all they wanted to do was be with me, when I was the best thing since sliced bread to them. Now, I'm pretty sure I'm ranked bottom on the totem pole. Motherhood is all fun and games when the kids are little and cute but now shit is getting real.
I was away for work all week. It was a long, trying week but I saw snow for the first time in years. I was so happy to step off of the airplane Friday night.
My family was there to greet me at baggage claim. The girls hugged me and were so excited that I was home. I wasn't even bothered that my suitcase never showed up. I kissed my husband and he said, "I need you in my life." I smiled. Five days is a long time to hold down the fort, to cook all the meals, pack all the lunches, shuffle to all the activities. He does an excellent job. I am so lucky to have him.
When we arrived home, I was exhausted. My oldest daughter had a friend sleepover so I gave the children the ground rules and went straight to bed. This morning, I got up with a list of things to accomplish. There was grocery shopping to do, laundry, and general housekeeping.
I wanted to do something with just the girls this afternoon where we could have some one-on-one time. They had gift cards for Barnes and Noble so we decided to go read some books, have a cup of coffee, and visit the dogs at Pet Smart next door. My daughter's friend came along.
When we pulled into the parking lot, all the dogs were out in the front of Pet Smart and we went over to see them. OH MY GOD! We could not even take the cuteness. The kids were begging me, "Mom! Can we please get another dog?" As if! These kids don't even help me with the dog that we do have. These dogs were like:
There was a huge, old dog in the corner. His name was Big Ben. He was 8 years old and had big, sad eyes. I knelt beside him and scratched behind his ears and rubbed his back. He didn't even move. He just sighed. I had such a strong urge to take him home. Not many people want to adopt old dogs. One day, when I'm retired, that is going to be my thing. I am going to adopt 10 year old dogs and spoil them for the rest of their lives. I'll be a dog hoarder.
We had to leave because my heart was breaking. We walked over to Barnes and Noble and chatted about our dog. "I want to go home and hug Summer," my youngest said. "Me too. She's a dumb dog." She was so offended. "Mom, she is not dumb! She is our family." I'm not saying I don't love her. I do, she is adorable but she is dumb as sh*t. She is the dog-version of an airhead. I'm not trying to insult her, but she's no Lassie or Rin Tin Tin.
We went into Barnes and Noble and we browsed for books. My kids made a bee-line for the teen section. That was weird. They both read at a very high level and sometimes it's hard to make sure everything they are reading is appropriate. We were at the library this summer and my 9 year old walked up to me with a book and said, "Can I read this?" It looked like a mystery novel. I don't even know where she picked it up.
I read the back of the cover. "No."
"Why not? Is it because it's about a rapist?"
Apparently, she had read the back cover too.
"Yes, that's exactly why."
So, we're at the bookstore now and my 9 year old hands me a book. "I want this one." I read the back cover and flipped through it. "It says the word shit in this book." She shrugged her shoulders. "So what? I know that word. I know, like, all the words already." My 11 year old chimed in, "I've read books that have the word hell, slut, the d-word, the s-word, the f-word...."
Thanks for letting me know about that...in public. I appreciate you saying the word slut out loud. Sixth grade style.
I left them to browse and wandered over the the parenting section, because I need it. There were a million baby books. Your Baby, Yourself; How to Give Birth Standing on Your Head; Potty Training NOW.... there has got to be some good books for navigating the tween years. There is not. Unless you have an autistic tween, or a tween with ADHD. Even the books about daughters are geared to the younger years.
I am in mommy limbo. There are a ton of resources for new parents, support groups and everyone giving advice but as your kids grow older that slowly starts to diminish. Maybe it's because society thinks once you've been in this parenting gig for over a decade you should know what the hell you are doing. I feel like I'm just flying by the seat of my pants on a daily basis.
There is so much information on how to get a baby to sleep but practically none on what you should do when your 4th grader knows all the words. The struggle is real. When my kids were younger I used to subscribe to that, "Your child- week by week" and every week it would be a new milestone or a tip. Why don't they make them for older kids?!?! It would be much needed. It would look something like this:
Week 599- Eye Rolling - Now that your child is almost 600 weeks old, you will find that more and more they will be trying to exert their independence. They will do this with what seems like an endless amount of eye rolling. Their eye rolling may be prompted by asking them to complete a simple task, telling them to do their homework, asking them how their day went, or just speaking to them in general. Don't worry - this is completely normal and won't last forever. It should subside within the next 10 years or when they realize that you aren't really a complete schmuck. Keep a lookout for next week when we will discuss how the smallest events appear to be the END OF THE WORLD to your tween.
When the kids were younger, I would go to support groups with other moms and we would let our babies crawl around while be lamented over the sleepless nights and exchanged healthy meal ideas as we sipped cups of coffee. The moms of tweens support group is much needed, but would be much different. The moms would sit around with glasses of wine while the tweens would sit, slouching and scowling with headphones stuffed in their ears and cell phones in hand. We'd discuss the real struggles in our lives. How to deal with the nasty attitudes, the best way to clean the soles of Converse sneakers, and the most effective way to get your child to realize that you were serious when you told them you weren't buying them a new iphone when they cracked the screen AGAIN.
I don't know exactly how I got to this place. But here I am. I don't hate it. I just wish there was more support. It has been the loneliest part of motherhood that I have experienced thus far.
After books, I was ready for coffee. They ordered mocha frappes like the divas that they are and I got us cookies to share. We sat down and talked. One nice thing about having older kids is they can talk to you and tell stories that are funny and interesting. Little kids are cute but when they want to tell you about Little Mermaid for the 80th time, you really just do not give a shit.
My daughter's friend was talking about her siblings (she's one of 6) and said something about her mom when my 11 year old piped in.
"Yeah, my mom is always giving us a dose of reality."
"What does that mean?"
"You know, like when you say that life isn't fair. Or like some kids will ask for things and their parents will just get it for them and you are like, "Do you have a job?" Stuff like that."
Well, I sound like a giant asshole. Thankfully her friend chimed in and said, "My mom is like that too!"
"What do you admire most about your mom?" I asked her friend. I'm curious about how kids this age view their parents. She thought for a moment.
Before she could answer my 11 year old said, "I admire my mom's sense of humor. I think I take after her." My 9 year old added, "I admire my mom because she is kind, passionate, funny, and she loves us!"
I thought that was so sweet. I do love these girls so much and it's nice to know in these moments that seem to getting fewer and farther between that they really do appreciate me and not think I'm the worst.
There is something that has been pissing me off lately. People eating food that is out of it's category. Groceries are not cheap and I am very strategic about my grocery shopping. I plan my dinners and purchase all the ingredients I need, I buy lunch stuff, and I buy snacks.
As you know, I freaking hate making lunches. I hate it with a passion. I started buying Uncrustables so that 2 days out of the week, it's easy. I can just grab them, stick them in the lunch box with a Capri Sun, some fruit, and Wheat Thins and I'm done. I know they are not the healthiest option, but I'm a shitty mother, so I don't really care that much.
Yesterday, I noticed that there was only 1 Uncrustable left in the box and 2 Capri Suns out of the box of 10. I called the kids downstairs and interrogated them.
"Who ate the Uncrustables?"
"I did," replied my 11 year old.
"Why?"
"I was hungry."
"Why didn't you just make a snack?"
"It was a snack."
I was so annoyed. "No. They are for lunches. I make your lunch every day and I pack them to make my life easier. Since you ate them for snack you get to pack your own lunch the rest of the week."
You would have thought I was the devil.
I bet she wishes she had some Uncrustables available right now.
My 9 year old daughter admitted to drinking all of the Capri Suns with her friend. "Why? There is a pitcher of pink lemonade in the fridge."
"Well, we like Capri Suns better."
"Oh, I hope you like drinking out of the water fountain at lunch because I have no Capri Suns to pack you and I'm not going out to buy more."
Food comes in categories. Breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks. If you eat all the lunch food for snacks, there will be no lunch food. If you eat all the snacks for breakfast, there will be no more snacks. If you eat the dinner food for snacks, there will be no dinner food. Come on! Get it together. Stick to your categories.
Once, my kids ate all the f**king shredded cheese in the fridge. They were dipping into it all week. I go to make quesadillas and I pulled out the shredded cheese and there are like 2 left in there. They didn't have the decency to even throw away the empty bag.
It's 6 o'clock after a long day and I have prepped everything for dinner and now I'm out of cheese. I was so irritated. I opened the cabinet. We had popcorn, pretzels, crackers, cookies, apples, cantaloupe, yogurt, ice cream. Yet, my children decided they needed to eat all of the shredded cheese. The one vital ingredient I needed to make dinner.
"We are eating Triscuits for dinner because y'all ate all the cheese." I makes me grumpy. They are old enough to know better.
Tomorrow they are going to complain about making there lunches. I know it. I'm not even going to feel bad. I'm going to sit back and sip a cup of coffee and say things like, "You don't see me complaining about making lunches every morning," and "Next time, you'll pop a bag of popcorn." Bad Mom Award.
It's 2016. I was thinking about that today. It was 1996 TWENTY years ago. That doesn't seem possible. I think 1996 was the best year ever. It was epic. Now it's 2016. Another year, in the books.
We ushered in the New Year with 13 little girls. I let both of the kids have friends over and we had a little party. It was so funny when everyone showed up because all the 6th graders and 4th graders were in the same room and the 11 year olds looked like teenagers and the 9 year old still like tiny little girls. It was so impossible to believe that there was only 2 years between them.
I orchestrated a scavenger hunt for them to find their party hats, noise makers. We did fireworks and sparklers. We had a selfie station. We played truth or dare and the saran wrap ball game that has been making it's way around social media. So fun.
We have a tradition that we write down all the things that we want to leave behind in the new year and we place it in an envelope and burn it before midnight. The little girls did theirs early in the night and I sat down with the older girls and did mine. I sat down at the table with my paper and markers and pondered all the things I wanted to leave behind.
One of the little girls sitting next to me said, "You look like you are 18, Mrs. B." I don't know what prompted that but I wanted to kiss this kid. I was like:
My daughter rolled her eyes at me. I returned to the task at hand. I wanted to leave behind procrastination, 8 pounds, not taking care of my appearance, and being grumpy. I scribbled them down on my paper.
The older girls, wrote down things like, "Bad grades, boys, bad attitude (one can only hope), bad hair days." One of the girls looked up and said, "Can I write down puberty?" I laughed and then felt a little sad. "Sure, but you still get to have your period for 40 years." They giggled. I didn't think it was funny.
They started chatting about turning 12, but not in a good way. "Ugggh. We're all going to be 12." Like, being 12 is horrible. "I think being 12 is the best!" I said. They looked at me skeptically. "Really?!?!" I thought back for a minute. "Yes! When I was 12 I finally felt like I was alive. I felt like I was old enough to understand life, but still be a kid. I didn't have any bills or responsibilities. It was amazing." I was 12 in 1996, that's why I think it's the best year.
Twelve is a formative year. It's the last year of childhood. After that you're a sh***y teenager, and then you have to "adult." Boo.
We stuffed all the things we were going to leave behind in 2015 and watched as the fire consumed them. It was a relief, almost.
As the clock approached midnight we popped open the sparkling grape juice and poured them into tiny wine glasses and handed them to the girls. We gathered in the living room and counted down to midnight. We toasted each other and then went to the kitchen to grab the pots and pan.
That is MY tradition from childhood. All thirteen girls ran up and down the sidewalk banging our pots and pans and screaming "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" I joined in the fun. My husband stood on the front porch like:
He didn't bang pots and pans growing up. According to him, it's a "white people" thing.
We sent the girls to bed at 12:30 and then I went to bed. I was rudely awoken at 4 am. These A-holes were still awake. Oh.My.God. I got up and yelled at all of them and then went back to bed.
I expected them to sleep in but the younger girls got up at 8 am. That was special. We spent New Years Day napping and lounging around. I think 2016 is going to be amazing. Probably not as amazing as 1996, but it will be close.
