Tomorrow is the last day of school. I have been waiting for it to hit me. It hasn't until just now. My baby, my youngest is going to the middle school. I had her pick out her clothes for tomorrow. There are no agendas to check. I've managed the Facebook page for the school for many years and tonight I removed myself. When I clicked the button it gave me a warning: once you have been removed, it cannot be undone. Something about that statement affected me. I cried a little bit.
It cannot be undone. What has happened has happened. The elementary years have passed for both of my children. There is no turning back. When my daughter walks into the school for the last time tomorrow, I'll imagine her as the curly haired kindergartner that she once was, clutching my hand with a backpack bigger than herself.
She is almost 10 years old now. Half a decade has passed since then. It has been a wonderful time. I could not have wished for a better experience for my child or myself, as a parent. We have truly been blessed.
There is no time for looking back. We look forward, to the future. This is what is supposed to happen, after all. Children grow up. You know what? That is okay.
As much as I miss my children being little, I refuse to mourn the fact that they are getting bigger. Instead, I choose to celebrate. We have much to be thankful for. As much as I complain about my children, I am blessed. I love them so much. I am so proud. They are both smart, healthy, beautiful, kind, funny, strong girls. I pretty much hit the kid jackpot.
Over the next few years they will turn into young women. We will have our joys and our challenges. I am so looking forward to it. Life is complicated, it is messy but so beautiful.
This evening, my youngest was at gymnastics and I went into my oldest daughter's bedroom. She had just finished cleaning. We chatted about her posters. She looks me directly in the eyes now. She's a big kid. She came close to me and wrapped her arms around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder. I breathed her in. She always smells so good. Like coconut, citrus and flowers. "Seventh grade, huh?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Stay close to me." It was more like a wish, than a request.
"Ok."
"What are the most important things?"
"You are smart, you are beautiful, mom & dad love you no matter what."
I used to say that to the girls over and over and over again since they were tiny. It's our mantra. Those are the things that I need them to know and believe. Especially in the coming years.
I will be weepy tomorrow but it will be okay. I'll look ahead without worry or fear. The kids are all right and we are ready. Life goes on.
Most of the time, I fool myself into thinking that I'm holding down this whole being a parent-adult thing. Sometimes I have moments of clarity when I realize that I actually have lost control of my life. I had one such epiphany this weekend while I was folding laundry.
I had 20 loads to do. I was sitting on my bedroom floor folding bath towels. I looked at my towels and realized that something was terribly wrong.
Look at this sh*t:
What the hell? How is this being used? A burlap cloth would be more absorbent.
Purple nail polish. Thanks kids!
All of my towels are frayed, or have a hole or have nail polish or some other curious stain on them. How did I let this happen? How did we come to this sorry state? When did I even buy them? Like 10 years ago?
I picked them all up and headed downstairs. My husband was curious. "What are you doing with all the towels?"
"I'm throwing them out. I'm not going to live like this anymore."
I threw out the bath towels, got in the car and drove directly to the store. I did not pass GO or collect $200. I walked into Target and went to the towel section and cleared out the white towel rack. I went for the mid-range towels. They were selling some towels for $18 bucks each.
Who are the millionaires hanging around Target buying $18 towels? That's beyond my thresh hold. I thought $12 was too much but I didn't care. I am taking my life back and having legit towels in my house.
I was so excited when I got home. I put them through the wash and folded them carefully. That night I made sure I got in the shower before everyone else. You know I don't get hot showers, usually. I took a long, hot shower and stepped out and dried off with one of my new towels. It was so soft and absorbent. What have I been missing? This is what luxury feels like.
I'm not going to lie - it was one of the highlights of my weekend. It doesn't take much to get me excited when my standards are so low. Hot shower + absorbent towel = best thing ever.
That night when I went to bed, I had another moment of clarity. My damn pillows are so flat. I've stuffed like 3 of them into one pillowcase. I've gotten the kids new pillows but I am using the same damn pillows I purchased when I moved south 9 years ago.
Apparently, you are supposed to replace your pillows every 2 years. I never got the memo about this. Is this something that other people know about? They should have a f**king class for grown ups that tells you crap like that.
Also, I realized this week that I don't own a cake server. How is that possible? I bake. Often. I suck at being an adult and my life is out of control. Meh.
I want it to be summer. RIGHT NOW! I thought I'd get all weepy at the end of the school year. After all, my baby is leaving the elementary school and my oldest is going into 7th grade and we all know that 7th grade is the year that everything just goes straight to hell in a hand basket. I am usually so nostalgic and melancholy as the end of the school year approaches. My babies are getting so big now, blah,blah, blah.... NO! I am not there. I'm just sitting over here like:
Maybe it will hit me on the last day of school. Until then, I am celebrating.
I do not know how we survive the school year. Just getting my 9 year old out the door on a daily basis has broken my spirit. I have done everything I can do. Make her pick out clothes the night before, get on a schedule. I've just given up. This week has been especially challenging.
Last Monday, I was getting ready and I didn't see her around. She was in her room - fully dressed, just sitting at the edge of the bed, staring out into space. Contemplating life, or whatever she does. "Dude, what are you doing?"
She turned to me and said calmly, "I don't think I want to wear this shirt."
"Then put on a different shirt. Get up, go to the closet and put one on."
She didn't move. "I don't know if I want to do that yet." she replied.
We actually had places to be, you know - like school and work. It's maddening.
Another day this week, I had gotten the kids up at 6 am, they got up to get ready and I went into the bathroom to get ready for work. I leave the room at 6:20 and my 9 year old is in the middle of the hallway, still in her pajamas dancing.
I shit you not - no music - dabbing and talking about my car's name is nae nae. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Only one more week, only one more week, only one more week....
With the end of school comes preparation for the upcoming school year. That means schedules for activities, placement letters, things that we need to know about. My oldest tested into pre-Algebra for next year. I had a little bit of a panic attack because sh*t is getting real. I want to go back to finger painting, macaroni necklaces and reading Hop on Pop. I'm going to need to call Sylvan Learning Center if my kids need help with their homework because they are about to surpass my intelligence.
I've put all the dates into my calendar. The first day of school is August 15. August 15? That's like a minute away. We are going to have to start back to school shopping in 6 weeks. It's going to take me that long to mentally prepare for the next school year. I need a de-briefing.
It's like the carousel that we never get off of. Except we will get off of it....in 6-8 years. That's it. So, I really shouldn't complain. You'll miss these days, I hear the voice in my head saying. It's one of the many voices. I will miss these days - just the days, not the mornings.
We made it through the week. Just barely. I really suffered this week. The start of the week I was like:
By the end of this week I was like:
It's been bad, but I was excited Friday night because the weekend was finally here. I watched a movie with my husband and relaxed. I looked forward to getting some rest.
I was dreaming blissfully yesterday morning when I was nudged awake. My husband was whispering. "Honey, honey. It's almost 7."
I groaned, "What the hell? Why did you just wake me up?"
"It's almost 7. I thought you had to get up and do stuff."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because you always have to get up to do stuff."
I was awake now. There was no turning back. I got out of bed to start the day. It was 6:54 am. I was very pissed off. I went downstairs, put water in the kettle, let out the dog, filled up her bowl, and started doing the dishes while I was waiting for the water to boil.
I heard my husband come down the stairs. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"The dishes." Obviously. "What are you doing up?"
"I felt bad for waking you up so I figured I'd get up too to tell you I'm sorry and to show solidarity."
I was glad. Misery loves company.
He was right, I did have a lot to do. I had to do some work, get an oil change, and run to the store. I left the house early and was back by 11. When I walked through the door my 11 year old and her friend announced they were going to walk to the park AKA try to find a neighborhood boy. My youngest was upstairs doing whatever she does.
I make a fresh chicken salad from the chicken we had for dinner the night before. I made 3 chicken salad sandwiches and put them in the refrigerator. Then I had a million things to do before my oldest daughter's dance recital. I texted the older girls to come home and have lunch and called down my youngest a million times.
My daughter and her friend walked through the door and I said, "There are chicken salad sandwiches in the refrigerator. Fix yourself a plate with some fruit and pretzels." Then I went upstairs and instructed my 9 year old to do the same and start to get ready. She said, "Ok."
I went to do my chores and get myself ready. Then, I had to put up my daughter's hair, do her makeup, and get all her costumes together. There was no time for dawdling.
When that was done, I told my nine year old to get her overnight bag ready because she was going to a birthday party and sleepover following the recital. "Did you get my friend a present?" she asked.
"We are giving her $20 in a card."
"NO MOM. NO WE'RE NOT. That's lazy! You need to get her an actual present."
"Twenty bucks is an actual present. She can use that money to get whatever she wants."
She put her hands on her hips and said, "Then you need to give her $50."
I literally laughed out loud. Get out of here. Who does she think she is?
"She is getting $20. Now, I need you to march your ass upstairs and fix your overnight bag. Do you understand me?"
She gave me an evil look and declared, "FINE! YOU'RE HORRIBLE." Then stomped up the steps.
I retrieved a blank note card from my box. I picked one with colorful stripes that I thought a 10 year old might appreciate. When my grumpy child came back downstairs, I handed her the card and told her to write a nice message to her friend. She looked at me disgusted and said, "You didn't even bother to buy her a birthday card?!? Really, mom?" Then we had another argument.
I wasted 15 minutes of my life yesterday fighting about this damn $20 in the card. It was maddening.
At 2:45 we were ready to go. We all pile into the car and we were approaching the auditorium when my 9 year old tells me. "I'm hungry. I only ate a doughnut today." My oldest daughter's friend chimed in. "Me too."
Seriously?!?! We have ample amount of food in the house. I handcrafted chicken salad, there was sliced meat and cheese, chips, pretzels, fruit, soup, yogurt. A variety of things. These kids are too old for me to micromanage every.single.meal. We are talking about reasonable human beings who have 2 legs and arms. I told them to have lunch and I made it for them. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make them drink. I did my due diligence. Therefore, I did not feel bad.
"Sorry guys. There's some pretzel rods in here. You can eat those." They scrunched up their nose but ate them. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. My oldest daughter said, "Well, I did eat lunch mom and that chicken salad sandwich was delicious. I LOVED it." She's a suck up. haha. That child has never been known to miss a meal. She has that innate survival instinct that tells her she will die if she doesn't eat. Not all kids have that.
We walked into the auditorium and bid my oldest daughter farewell backstage. Then we sat and waited. We watched all the performances and it was very long. My daughter dances beautifully. I was so impressed with her. She is so graceful and so confident. She looked stunning and I was so proud of her. I cried some happy tears. I was so proud of her. She's worked really hard this year.
Afterwords we did hugs and pictures, we gave her flowers and compliments. She was beaming. We told her that she could pick dinner and she wanted to go to Outback. Yum! First, I needed to drop off my youngest at the birthday party. I did that and then met my husband and the two older girls at Outback where my husband ordered food like he was a Rockefeller.
When we walked through the door at close to 9 pm. I was beat. The day, the week had finally hit me like a ton of bricks. I was exhausted. I took a hot shower and told the girls I was going to bed and gave them the rules that I was sure they were going to break but I was too tired to care.
I crawled into my bed, read the news and went to sleep around 10. I was so excited because I had no plans on Sunday. I was going to sleep in and lay around for a while in the morning. I need it.
I was in a deep sleep when suddenly I was startled awake by a body laying on top of me and a voice in my ear whispering. "Mom, mom." I could hear a giggle in the distance. What.the.actual.hell? I looked at the alarm clock. It was 1:10 am. "What are you doing? Playing truth or dare? Get off of me."
"But mom. I just wanted to tell you that my phone is not working."
"Your face won't be working if you don't get off of me and leave this room immediately."
She did, and she also took the cat with her and shut my bedroom door.
I fell back asleep, again thinking, Well, at least I can sleep in tomorrow. I was awoken yet again a few hours later by the damn cat meowing at my bedroom door. I tried to ignore it but they just got louder and louder and more urgent. NO, just NO. I got up and let him in. He walked past me like he was a boss. I wanted to kick him.
I got back into bed and looked at the alarm clock. It was 5:45 am. I cried inside. Now, I was awake. My body said, You wake up at this time almost everyday. Let's get up. Stupid body.
It is now 6:30 on Sunday morning and I'm up. I'll go downstairs and make coffee and clean something. I can't sleep in next Saturday because we need to be out of the house by 8 am for a pancake breakfast followed by some gymnastics thing my youngest is doing. Maybe next Sunday. Maybe next Sunday I can sleep until 7:30. I will hold on to hope but if the people and animals in this house have their way, it's not ever going to happen.
I am mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. I can feel it in my head, in my bones. It has been a long week, month, months, years? decade? This whole adulting thing is really wearing thin lately.
I love my children, I love them with every ounce of my being. I really shouldn't complain about them the day before Mother's Day. BUT...this week has been out of control with the attitudes. I'm feeling some back slapping coming on.
It was teacher appreciation week this week. My youngest has been on my ass about it. We have been crazy busy. Work is busy, the kids have had a million activities. I picked up a Starbucks gift card but I forgot to get flowers. Fail. On Friday morning, my daughter confronted me about it.
"Well, I got her a gift card and you can write her a nice handwritten note about how much you appreciate her."
She put her hands on her hips. "Really mom? You are horrible. That is the crappiest gift out of everyone. Just a gift card?"
I thought a gift cad was pretty good. I would love a gift card. Not up to her standards. I was seething. I ignored her. I was too tired to deal with her. Of course, she dragged her feet getting ready and she didn't write out the card until she sat down in the car. I was driving her to school and she had the card in her lap. This is what she said:
"I know what to write. Dear Teacher, Sorry my mom is such a B. She doesn't appreciate you and only got you this stupid gift card. I wish I had another mother."
I stopped the car and looked her dead in the eye. "Write it."
She looked at me like I was crazy. "I said write it. Write down exactly what you just said. I want your teacher to know exactly terrible you are. Write it."
"No."
"WRITE IT NOW!!!!!"
She started to cry. Good. She deserved to cry. What an entitled brat. I had half a mind to make her get out of the car and walk to school. I ignored her the rest of the ride. That is the worst punishment to her. Stinging looks of disappointment. "Mom, I'm sorry."
"I don't care. I don't like you." I said that to my kid. Bad Mom Award.
I dropped her off and didn't say a word to her. She gave me a puppy dog look that I wanted to punch. Done. I am so done.
My oldest has been moody as s**t. She had the nerve to come home and complain to me about lunch the other day. "You only pack Nutella sandwiches. I can't take it anymore." Let's rewind to two months ago when she told me she only wanted Nutella sandwiches. I sighed. "What do you want then?"
"You know. Sliced cheese and turkey sandwiches, fruit snacks, good stuff. It's like you don't even try."
OMFG. I do not have time to be making elaborate lunches in the morning. I'm tired and I'm not going to do it. "You are making your own lunch. I'll buy all the shit and you'll just have to do it yourself."
She was like:
These kids are so entitled. I know that we live in the lily white suburbs where 10 year olds wear Converse sneakers and have iphones. Where everyone owns a boat and they go on vacations on cruise ships.
They act so put upon when really they are being a bunch of a**holes. I am tired of the whining, moaning and complaining. I am tired of them acting like I do not do enough. There are like a million kids in this world who would be happy to trade places with them. I am over it.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day and I am not into it. I don't want gifts. I don't want breakfast in bed. I just want to kids to not cut their eyes at me, not say anything rude to me, not accuse me of not doing enough, and to clean their room and bathroom. That's it.
I remember when they were cute, little and loved me all the time. Having big kids might be less physically demanding but this s**t is for the birds. Having big kids is totally overrated. In 14 months I'll have a damn teenager in the house. Let me survive the next 6-8 years. Please pray for me.
Anyway, tomorrow is Mother's Day. Happy Mother's Day to my own mother who I know is smirking and enjoying the payback. Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers who have young children who they still adore and dote on. Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers who can't possibly imagine a time when they will want to throttle their children - have a nice time with that s**t while it lasts. Lastly, Happy Mother's Day to all the bad moms out there like me. May your sleeping- in game be strong and your glasses of wine be many. Don't forget that while the grind of motherhood is all encompassing, it's not forever so enjoy these little brats now. Someday you'll miss them, but at least you'll have much more disposable income. Bad Mom Award.
Things are getting serious with the flute. Yesterday afternoon my oldest had a band event where you play for judges, they rank your ability and you acquire medals. I don't really know about it, I just get papers from school and I drive my kids where they need to go.
We got to the high school that was hosting it and the cafeteria was full of band kids. She spoke with her band teacher and then warmed up her flute. "I'm so nervous," she told me. "I think I might mess up."
Uggggh. I felt my stomach flip flop. Her being nervous made me nervous. "You'll do great. Just do the best you can. Imagine that you play it perfectly. Thoughts become things." She nodded, gathered her flute and I walked with her to the room. I patted her on the back. "Just try your best. I'll wait for you in the cafeteria."
I went back to the cafeteria and waited nervously. I played on my phone and chatted with the mom sitting next to me. After a while she walked through the double doors. She had a defeated look on her face. As soon as she saw me, she broke down into sobs. I walked over and hugged her. She sobbed into my shoulder. "I messed up the first measure," she cried. Band probs.
Her friend had followed me over and rubbed her back. "What did you get?" she asked. "I didn't even check. I don't even want to know," my daughter replied between cries. Her friend pulled the judge's sheet from her music book and looked at it. "You got a superior," she said, excited. My daughter wiped the tears from her eyes, "Really!?!"
"Yeah, look."
And just like that, she was better. Not before a bunch a people had made their way over concerned. Her band teacher rolled his eyes. "Are you going to cry when I give you your medal too?" Probably. She is my daughter, after all.
We had over an hour until her next thing so we cut out and went to lunch. She was happy and in a good mood. We talked about her plans for next year. They let kids join the marching band in the 7th grade and she told me that she REALLY wants to do it.
Of course she does, I've talked about how awesome marching band is her entire life. I was in the marching band all through high school and LOVED it. It was my favorite thing. So much fun. It is hard to explain the awesomeness of marching band to people that have not experienced it themselves. Marching band is not just an extracurricular activity, it's a religion.
I never actually played an instrument. I got into marching band by mistake. I was sleeping over a friend's house and she was telling me about how she had band camp in the morning. "You should come," she said. "It's really fun." I did. I just showed up and went up to the band director and was like, "I don't play an instrument but I want to be in the marching band." He told me I could play the cymbals.
The thing was, he never actually taught me how to play the cymbals so I just crashed them whenever it seemed like a good time. Which, was never actually at a good time. I was not legit, I was pretty much a big joke but I did not care. It was so much fun. I later graduated to the bass drum. Drum line forever, bitches.
I think it will be good for her. She loves to play the flute and the band kids seem to be her "people." I also love marching band competitions and now I would have a legit excuse to go to them instead of just being a weirdo. I'll still be a weirdo, but you know what I mean.
