The Mommy Wars

I went away for work last week which was a nice break from the routine but hard for me to leave the kids. I had breakfast with this lady who was so funny and delightful. We talked about being working moms and all that comes along with it. We talked about how when our kids were babies we would go to these new mommy support groups. She said, "There should be support groups for moms like us." She is SO right. When I stayed at home with my babies, I really enjoyed it but it can be so hard. I would meet up with other moms and we would go to the park and hang out together and lament about the laundry that needed to get done and how many times the baby woke up in the middle of the night and how if we watched one more episode of the Wiggles we might just lose our minds. We had fellowship and connection. We felt validated in our choices. I need that so much now at this stage in my life (minus the Wiggles).

Shortly before my youngest turned 2, I returned to work full time. It was time for me. I was ready. Being a stay at home mom can be stressful. It's not just the housework, and the crying toddlers and the stress of being a one income family. It can be so isolating. But being a working mom is no walk in the park. No one knows guilt better than a working mom does.The days when you can't get time off and you miss a class party. The lack of time to do basic things like doing the dishes and putting away laundry. Trying to let go of the fact that other moms out there are judging you for working outside of the home (I was one of those moms, yikes!). It's like you can't win no matter what you do. Everyone wants to be a great mom. The mom that all the other moms are envious of. The ones who bake and are at every event and have immaculate houses. I am not one of those moms. I am a good enough mom. I try my best and that's all I can do.

I soooo want to start a moms groups. Moms Of School Age Kids (MOSAK for short). Working moms with kids ages 5-12 hang out in someones dirty house and drink wine and vent and complain about our guilt and our husbands and the kids homework and everything else. We wouldn't judge at MOSAK, we understand that sometimes kids get dry cereal for breakfast, that we sleep in sweatpants and shave our legs very infrequently, that sometimes we ignore the children to get a moment of piece, that the floors may be sticky but the children are mostly happy. That it's okay and that no mom is perfect. If you want to join-let me know.

I am going to go to bed now instead of finishing the dishes, I'll probably feel guilty about it. Just add it to the list.

I'm Too Sexy for My Shirt

                 
My husband never buys clothes for himself. Never. I don't buy clothes for him because when I do he scrunches up his nose and says things like, "That looks horrible, I'm never wearing that." Some husbands let their wives dress them but not him. He likes to wear what he wants and doesn't want input. That's okay with me, I don't have time to shop anyway. I do always encourage him to buy things if needed and he can take my advice or not. Usually not, but I make an effort.

Last week I was in the area of his work and I stopped in to see if he wanted to take a break and have a cup of coffee with me. We don't often get time alone so it was nice. We walked over to Sonic and drank iced coffee. I mentioned casually that he needed new work shirts and he said, "I do need new clothes. Let's go this weekend and you can help me pick stuff out." I thought that he obviously had been abducted by aliens. "Really?" He nodded. I was so excited.

So we went to Marshalls because it is close to the house and we are lazy and don't want to walk through a mall or department store. As we picked out things our girls explored the kids section that was close by. They would come up to us holding dresses and tops and say, "Mom, can we get this?" "No, we are shopping for dad." They pouted. "Why does dad get everything and we get nothing?" I rolled my eyes, "Because he owns 3 shirts and you own 50." They really do. They have so many clothes that sometimes I find clothes in their closet that I forgot existed.

So we get the clothes and we walk over to the dressing room. The lady who was working the dressing room was not the friendliest. My husband said, "I have 10 items." She recounted everything and handed him a little number tag. Then she sat down in front of a desk and scowled. I was looking at her and she reminded me of something and I couldn't put my finger on it. Then I figured it out. She looked like a bloodhound. She had these big saggy checks and looked really sullen.
                                            
I am not trying to be mean and I'm not saying she was ugly. She just had bloodhound-like features is all.

The dressing room was right behind the shoe section and while my husband tried on his clothes the kids tried on shoes. They tried on every single pair of shoe that was on display. They would put on one pair and model them and then run off for the next pair. The bloodhound lady watched them and appeared annoyed. I didn't care. We were spending money in there, the kids weren't making a mess, and they actually weren't annoying me so I did not mind them sampling every pair of shoe at all.

My husband would emerge periodically from the dressing room and let me say "yea" or "nea". He looked so handsome. The kids were like, "You look so nice, daddy." Finally we were ready to go. The kids asked for shoes, of course. I didn't give in. I did buy gummy worms for us to share instead. Red and clear gummy worms = heaven. It was a good day.

Weirdos

                      
My kids had a friend sleepover this weekend, which was a blast for them. They were exhausted by yesterday evening. They got out of the shower and I was braiding my daughters hair and we were all sitting around talking. I asked the girls if they had a fun time and they said they did. I asked if their friend had fun and my daughter said she did. Then she said, "I don't know if she was used to us because we're really weird." I thought about that for a minute, "What does that mean?" "We just act like weirdos. I like it that way. We are very funny and we laugh a lot. It's better than just being normal." I turned to my 6 year old, "You think we're weirdos?" She looked up and gave me a big joker smile and screamed, "YESSSS." She is weirdness personified.

I never really think about the fact that we are a little strange and eccentric but my kids are definitely right. If we are going to get milkshakes, we will make up a song about milkshakes. We make up songs about everything.  Sometimes I sing out loud in public and I often talk to myself. It is not usual to see someone randomly break out in dance at my house. We put pretzel sticks up our nose and in our ears and chase each other around. We have a different sense of humor. I have a very dry and dark sense of humor. That's why I love my husband. He finds me incredibly amusing, he laughs at my jokes - he gets it. You have to be slightly off to get my sense of humor.

 I was born into it. I never had a chance. My father is incredibly eccentric and funny. His personality is over the top, he is like a character from a movie. I always tell him that he should hire someone to follow him around with a camera because the things that he does and the things he says are comedic gold. He could legitimately have his own reality show. When you live with strange people, you become strange too. It stays with you. It becomes part of who you are. Consequently, all of my siblings are weirdos and their children and spouses will be destined for the same fate. My husband was relatively normal when he married me but the weirdness has begun to creep in and now he fits in with the rest of us.

I'm glad my daughter likes the fact that we are a little strange and quirky. It does make life funny and interesting. Normal is definitely overrated. Weirdos unite!

Money Again

                                      
The other day I was sitting next to my kiddos while they did their homework and I was going through the 1 million papers they bring home and there was a note that we owed $9 for my 6 year old's field trip. So I got my check book and started to write it out. My 8 year old looked up at me and said, "Oh - that reminds me, I need you to add $5 to my lunch account." "I just gave them a check for $20 last week." She shrugged. "Are you buying extra things at lunch?" She told me she wasn't. I need to call the school because I'm not sure I believe her. "Oh, and I need $20 for a yearbook and if you want me to get my name on it then it's 5 more dollars AND we just got Scholastic catalogs and I REALLY, REALLY want this. It's only $12.95." She opened the catalog and pointed to a diary with a lock. "You have 4 diaries already." "But this one is for BFFs, so my friends and I can write in it. My other ones are boring. Please can you buy it? I only need like $45."

Only $45? On a random Thursday you come up and ask me for $45? You are in 3rd grade. I looked at her and said, "Why don't you just go pick some leaves off the money tree that's growing in the backyard?" She rolled her eyes at me. "You have the checkbook out, why don't you just write a check?" I explained to her that you can't just write checks, that there needs to be money in the bank. She was like, "So?" and then she whined about all the stuff she wants and needs. I lost it on her. "Don't ask me for anything again tonight." She scowled and was angry.

I always thought babies and little kids were expensive. Sippy cups, diapers and all that jazz. The truth is, the older my kids get - the more expensive they get. The birthday parties they attend are a fortune. A $15 gift times 4-6 per month is a lot. Not to mention school lunch, and events.... Summer camp is coming up and that will be painful. They are also now at the age where they don't get into places for free anymore. They just will get more and more expensive and then I'll get to pay college tuition. Hopefully my student loans are paid off before that. I'd put these kids to work if it was legal. They could stock shelves, pack boxes, be a bathroom attendant. They have usable skills..... I'm just kidding. Seriously though, I am tired of writing checks.

4th Grade

                                     

A few nights ago I was laying with my 8 year old and we were having our nightly chat. I asked her how many weeks of school she had left and she said, "Just 5." "Oh my gosh, then you will be in the 4th grade." She was like, "Yeah, I'll be the oldest in the school." Their elementary goes up to 4th grade and the middle school is 5-8th grade. So after next year I'll be dropping her off at the middle school. Holy Hell. My kids are getting to the age where I can actually remember being their age very vividly, which is so cool and weird. She asked me to tell her a story (like she always does) and I asked her what about. "When you were in 4th grade." I thought for a minute and laughed to myself. "Okay. Well, my fourth grade teacher was a very plump woman and she had short, red, curly hair. She always wore pumps but she had really fat feet and the there would be a big fat bubble coming out of her shoes, like she tried to squeeze them in and they were too tight." My daughter laughed. She really did have fat feet. I used to watch the fat bubble around in her shoes when I should have been paying attention to the math lesson. It was very distracting. "I was very afraid of her because she was often cross but she was okay if you did what you were supposed to. She had the desks lined up in alphabetical order by our last name. I was near the back of the class and I sat in front of this boy named David. David was nice but he was one of those kids that ate glue, paper, pencil erasers and shavings. His desk was always in disarray. What I remember about David was that his nose was always running. I always had to pass papers back to him and he would smile at me with his big glasses, snot just dripping out of his nose, pencil eraser residue around his mouth and I would be grossed out." She laughed, "Really?" "Seriously, this is a true story." "The teacher would always yell at David and tell him to stop eating glue. I felt bad for him. One day the teacher asked David to come up to her desk and he was standing directly in front of her. She was talking to him about something and all of a sudden he let out a huge sneeze right in her face. Snot went everywhere on her face and everything. She paused for a minute,in shock. She turned red as a tomato. It looked like steam was going to come out of her ears. She growled under her breath, "David, blow your nose and go sit down." He did and then walked back to his desk all dejected looking. It was pretty classic." My daughter giggled - "Mom, that's gross." It was.

I thought about David for a minute. He was one of those kids that didn't have it easy in school. I hope that David is out in the world somewhere - good looking, cut, driving a Benz, married to a smokin hot wife with some obnoxiously smart and good looking kids. I wish that for all the kids who get dealt a crappy set of cards.

So, my daughter will be in the 4th grade. What a fun time that is. It's old enough to start being aware of the world, kids that age have a great sense of humor but are still pretty innocent. Boys aren't really in the picture yet (uggh-boys better stay away from my daughters for another 10 years). Fourth grade is mostly uncomplicated. I wish it could stay that way always.

Mo Money, Mo Problems

       

This morning my 6 year old came up to me and asked, "Mom, how much money do you have?" "Why?" I asked. "Just tell me." "I have 7 bucks in my purse and some change." She threw her arms in the air exasperated. "NO! I mean how much money do you and dad have all together?" I didn't know what she was getting at. It's not that simple of an answer. I said, "Well, we have some money in a checking account. That is for food, the house, your after-school, bills...that kind of stuff. Then a little bit of money in savings but we can't spend that money unless we have a big emergency. Most of our money is in retirement and we can't spend that until we are old. So basically we only have $7 leftover." That was too much of an answer. I didn't want to give her a dollar amount because I know that it would be used against me anytime she wanted to buy something. She thought about my answer. "What is retirement?" "That is when we are old and don't work anymore. You see, we have to work now to save enough money so that someday we don't have to work." Seems legit. She said, "Well when I grow up I am going to give all my money to my family." I thought that was so sweet. "Awww - you want to give your money to mom and dad?" She looked at me like I was crazy, "No - MY family. You know, my kids and my husband. But I might give you and dad a dollar...once a year."  Gee thanks, I'll try not to spend it all in one place. I am going to remember that when she wants me to pay her college tuition. She walked off satisfied. I never did discover the origin of her question but she didn't ask me to buy her anything so that was a win.

We are blessed and we make do. I can turn a little bit into a lot, it's a skill I acquired when we first got married, those were the lean years. A week before we got married my husband requested leave but his sergeant wouldn't approve it until we attended financial counseling on base. It was in this little building that looked like it was ready to be condemned on the top floor in the back office. The gentleman was a big, stocky African American man with a bald head in his battle dress uniform. He was a tough looking dude and he had this deep commanding voice. He had us sit down and he just looked at the two of us for a minute. "You are getting married next week?" We nodded, like the stupid teenagers that we were. He began to tell us all the things not to do. Don't get payday loans, don't get into credit card debt, don't gamble. He encouraged us to have a joint bank account and make a budget. He regaled us with a story about a soldier who kept a separate bank account from his wife and he gambled their money away. She found out about it and attacked him with a knife, slashing his face. This man began making a slashing movement with his hands and in his booming voice yelling, "Where's the money? Where's the money?" I was scared. He looked us both in the eyes and said, "Do you understand?" "Yes, sir." "Do you have any questions?" "No, sir." He leaned back in his chair. "Well, good luck." We walked out and walked down the hallway silently. I recall turning to my husband and saying, "We will never have separate bank accounts EVER and we will never fight about money." He agreed and it's been that way ever since. It's worked pretty well, there has been no face slashing thus far. We never have fought about money either. I have a girlfriend who used to say, "My husband and I don't fight about money - we both agree that we don't have any." I love it, that is my motto. Although, I can't say we don't have ANY. I still have that $7 in my purse.

Date Night

                                      
This week my daughter asked if she could have a friend over after school. I called her mom to make arrangements and she was like, "Actually, I would like to have both of your girls over this Saturday for a sleep over." Say what? That sounded amazing. My husband and I have not had a date night in quite some time so this was a lovely surprise. The kids were excited, so it was a win-win. We dropped them off in the late afternoon. They gave us a quick kiss and ran off. We talked for a few minutes and she asked, "Will your kids be okay at night?Will they cry because they miss their mom?" Yeah right. "No, they will complain when it is time to go home." They really have no problems leaving me. I am glad about this in a lot of ways. They are independent,  well-adjusted kids. They can have fun and be away from us and know it's okay and we're coming back. But a little piece of me thinks they are traitors.

After we dropped them off we discussed how we should spend our evening. I was like, "Let's walk around in our underwear, eat junk, say a lot of curse words and watch a violent movie. Then, we can sleep like crazy. Sleep like we never have before. Sleep all-night-long." Those are all restricted things when you have kids. It seems almost forbidden and dangerous to do them now. My husband laughed and said, "You wanna go to Barnes and Noble?" "Sure." So we did that. I looked at the new releases, I browsed through beauty magazines until I started to feel ugly, I looked at cook books. I was getting hungry so I said, "Let's go eat." My husband was like, "It's only 4:40." I didn't have a problem. "Great. We can beat the crowds." I instantly felt lame when I said it. Who goes to dinner at 4:40 besides senior citizens? I don't care though, I'm not that cool. So we went.

We sat down and ate bread and talked. We discussed work and the news and were generally boring. Friends of ours are due to have a baby this weekend and my husband works with the guy so we talked out that. "Yeah, I was telling him a bunch of horror stories about when the kids were babies. Like how C was in the car seat." I forgot about that. Our oldest daughter was horrible when she was in the car seat. Literally, every time she was in the car, she would scream. She would scream until she was red. She would scream until she would gasp for breath. We would drive 10 miles and then pull over and take her out and calm her down, then we would drive 10 more miles and we would nurse, then drive 10 more miles and take her out again. Sometimes I would just cry with her. She would scream and I would turn the music up and just sob. I had to emotionally prepare myself every time I left the house. When we finally got to our destination I would hold her in the back seat and she would catch her breath and tears would run down her face and she would look at me with her accusing baby eyes that said, "Why do you always torture me?" She did this for an entire year. I shuddered just thinking about it. I will file that memory away the next time I have a moment of insanity and feel sad that there won't be anymore babies in our house. "You are bad for telling him that." My husband laughed, "You think that's bad, one of my co-workers said all 3 of his kids were like that." Those poor parents. We enjoyed our meal and surprisingly talked about other things besides the kids. It was nice.

We got home and were trying to decide on a movie and I agreed to watch Hemlock Grove with my husband. It's a new Netflix series that's kind of creepy. I don't watch movies that often and when I do they are pretty tame so it was pretty shocking. Extremely gory, lots of f-words, 17 year olds doing cocaine, erroneous sex scenes every 10 minutes. They were going out to eat a lot, and I'm not talking about McDonalds. Colonel Angus made an appearance many times. I turned to my husband and said, "I actually really like this show and I kind of feel wrong about it." It was so bad it was good. It was the perfect pick for a non-kid night.

We went to bed and the house was quiet. The energy in the house seemed different. It is weird when the kids aren't here. It's like something is missing or out of place. I then remembered that I could sleep until 9 am and besides, they aren't missing me anyway.