It's been so crazy around here and it's about to get worse.... The other morning my husband came downstairs and said, "Have you looked at the calendar for May? It's just insanity." Did I look at it? I created it. I simply share it with him through the Cozi app. I sighed, "I know. At least you get to go to Las Vegas for a week."
May - gymnastics, band practice, band events, meetings, orthodontic appointments, dance rehearsals, dance recitals, end of the year school events, awards ceremonies, business trips, college exams.....my family is doing all the things in the month of May. We leave for vacation on June 3rd.
Which is good, I should be excited about it but I am FREAKING out. I checked in and submitted all of our paperwork for the cruise but we haven't planned any of our excursions, I only have $32 in euros, I need to arrange transportation from the airport, the kids need summer clothes, I generally need to just tie up my loose ends....
I made a packing list for what we need which meant that I needed to take the kids shopping. They need bathing suits, shirts, tops and some dresses. My 10 year was so upset about the dresses.
"I don't want to wear a dress."
"You need to wear something nice when we go to the Vatican. They have a dress code."
"I want to wear shorts."
"It's a holy site. The pope lives there, you have to follow the rules."
"Who even cares about the pope?"
"Lots of people. Literally like, a billion people. All the Catholics."
"Whatever."
So we set off to buy clothes. It is my most hated task because I don't like any of the things my kids like. I let them express themselves through their clothing choices (within reason) but it kills me inside. I want them to wear khaki skirts, collared shirts and Sperrys and they want to wear grungy, dark clothes. If we are at a store and there is an item of clothing that looks like it's been sitting in a garbage can since 1992, they will want it. The best way to describe their style is "gutter chic". They make clothes like that - torn apart, faded, HIDEOUS. I can't handle it. They look like they are trying to join the Sex Pistols.
They think that I'm "old" and don't know what "real style" is. Whatever.
These pants + tight ratty tee shirt + Converse = what they wear everyday
Some of their clothes have writing on them, which I don't always read until after my kid is wearing them, because apparently I'm a negligent parent. These are a few of my favorite.
Life Lessons
LOL
Anyway, we were out shopping and I let them pick out their own clothes. I make them try them on and I have "Ultimate Veto Power." So they go back into the dressing room and I'm waiting. My 10 year old models her outfits. Cut out shoulders, weird zippers up the front, belly button showing.
"No, No and No."
"Ugggh! Why?!?!"
"Because they are not appropriate for your age."
"Well, you aren't appropriate for your age. You got married at 18. People should not be getting married and having sex at the age of 18. That's inappropriate. This is an example of how you make horrible decisions. How can you make decisions about what I wear when you don't have good judgement?"
She makes some legitimate points, but I still wanted to rip her face off. "Stop being an a**hole and go pick out some clothes that I will approve of." I called her an actual a**hole, because I'm the Mom of the Year.
She picked out 2 dresses that would work. Black dresses, but appropriate and past the knee. My oldest did a little bit better, she accepts her fate more than her sister. They got some really cute stuff for the trip.
They each got a bathing suit but need 2 more. I am letting them wear a 2 piece this year for the first time ever. I am regretting this decision. Me when I saw my daughters in a two piece bathing suit for the first time:
I never understood what people meant about having daughters and how hard it is. Now I know why - because bikinis. My 12 year old looks like she's 15 and I am not handling it well AT ALL. Hate it. It's terrible. Even my 10 year old looks like she's 13, a short 13 year old. Ugggggh!!!! Puberty is stupid.
That's why they made wine. For moms of cute tween/teen girls. It's a real struggle.
May we get through May without incident. We will power through, tie up our loose ends, finish our shopping. We now have dresses to visit the Vatican, now just to lecture my kids about behaving at the Vatican...
Tomorrow is Monday and this week is.....Testing Week! Yay! It's that time of year when you make sure your kids get to bed EXTRA early and you make sure they have a SUPER nutritious breakfast and pack a snack so they can excel at all of those mandated standardized tests.
I hate testing week. My kids come home with all the life drained out of them.
My kids during standardized testing week:
It's so stressful. There is so much pressure. The other week, we were sitting at the dinner table and the topic came up. My oldest very matter-of-factly told me, "You know, if you don't do good on the tests then they won't let you go to the next grade." I wasn't aware that was the case in my state. "Ummmm.....I don't think so. Just do your best."
I'm not anti-testing or anti-achievement by any means but they do too many of them, they don't improve student achievement, every state has their own test and standards so comparing results nationally isn't comparative.....I could really get on my soap box about it and go on and on.
I took standardized test growing up and I remember teachers going over "tips" to hack the test. Literally, they would spend whole class periods talking about how the test would try to "trick" you. So, the whole time you were taking the test you would be constantly second guessing yourself. This is the answer, but it is the obvious answer. It can't be the obvious answer....that's too easy. This is a trick question..... Then you would have to write essays about the most boring s**t ever. It is the most soul sucking, mind-numbing experience. For hours, day after day.
Also, no one knows what's on these tests. They are sealed. Test monitors have to have monitors. If a teacher looks at the test questions while the student is taking it, they can be burned at the stake. Who even writes these tests? It's a little bizarre. Surely, I'm not the only one that thinks it's weird.
Every year at testing time, I am reminded of the time I revolted against the standardized tests. It still makes me feel satisfied.
It was my senior year of high school in May, testing week. I was already checked out. I was moving away and getting married in a month. I was working, like 50 hours a week and going to school. I was EXHAUSTED and hated everything. I suffered horribly from a bad case of the small town blues. I felt like I was serving a sentence, and that my time was almost done. Freedom was so close that I almost taste it. I was just putting my nose to the grindstone and doing what I had to do to get through. I went through the motions of life and tried to mentally prepare for the test - it was the last one of my public school career. I could do this. Monday through Thursday - then, I would be done. As much as I despised it, I was going to do my best.
That Monday morning we swapped classrooms with the one next door. I guess your teacher couldn't proctor the test, maybe there was a rule about it....I don't quite remember.
The German teacher proctored the test. She had a red face and broad shoulders and while I didn't know her, I didn't like her. She had a cold and serious demeanor that rubbed me the wrong way. I sharpened my number 2 pencils and set them down at the top of my desk as the teacher passed out the sealed white booklets. Then she stood at the front of the classroom and recited the same instructions that I'd heard over, and over again through the years. Fill in the circle completely, read the answer carefully, you cannot hear the instructions again, blah,blah,blah,blah,blah.....
I did the test and I filled in the bubbles. It was boring and irrelevant but I did what I had to do. Day after day until it was over. That Thursday afternoon, when I closed the test booklet for the last time, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. They were all done - ACT, SAT, AP, State Testing. DONE. My brain hurt but I had finished it.
On Friday, I showed up at school and we were assigned back to the German teacher again. Which was weird, because testing was over. The German teacher stood in front of the room with a pile of white booklets. "The State is looking at switching to a different test for next year and we have been selected to trial the test. You will be influential in determining what test is used next year."
I almost lost my damn mind. It was the final straw for me. I don't owe the State of New Jersey anything! I hate New Jersey, I'm getting out of here. I can't do this.I'm going to take a stand.
I was seething. She went around to pass out the booklets. "I'm not taking it." my 18 year old self said firmly. She looked at me with surprise. "That is not an option. It is mandatory."
"I'm not taking it," I said again.
She was not happy with me. "If you don't, you will get written up and we can and WILL withhold your diploma." She smirked at me, knowing she had the upper hand.
I was a good student, I was already accepted to college. I had served my time and this B was threatening to withhold my diploma. NO. It was on. "Okay," I said, accepting the test booklet. She finished distributing the booklets and stood in front of the classroom giving instructions.
I filled in the bubbles for my name and gender. Then she let us start. The first section had 50 or so questions. I filled in A from 1-50. It took me 30 seconds. Then I shut my test booklet. I laid my head on the desk. "You need to read the questions carefully and try to do your best," the German teacher said. I smiled at her, "I did." Then I took a nap. It was glorious. I had worked 3-11 the night before, I was tired.
The next section, I filled in all Bs. Then all Cs. I napped all day. I filled out bubbles for only 2 minutes in total. The German teacher glared at me with the most evil look the whole time but there was nothing she could do about it.
I'm pretty sure she wanted to murder me, throw me out the window. I was just some punk-ass kid rebelling against authority.
I walked out of the room that afternoon with a spring in my step. I had choices. I had some control in what I wanted to do. It was one of the most liberating things I had ever done in my young life.
As an adult, I feel bad for the German teacher. She was just there, trying to do her job. Counting down the years until she could run away and collect her pension. I can't blame her at all. She wasn't the enemy in all this, she was only the messenger.
I will think about her this week as my kids pack their number 2 pencils into their book bags and head off to school to fill in their own bubbles. I'll make sure they have granola bars and a bottle of water and we'll survive this too.
I was so looking forward to spring break. I thought it was going to be so relaxing. I am a damn fool. It was really awful actually. We made the gut-wrenching school decision, there was a loss of my daughter's acquaintance, my youngest injured herself in gymnastics and I had to shell out $250 for medical bills and crutches for her (it was just a sprain, thankfully). This was right after I just paid to have my timing belt and water pump replaced in my car. I also had to replace a tire that had a nail in it. Last week was expensive. Very expensive.
I called my girlfriend to vent. "I just so damn weary. Plus, I haven't even got my Easter stuff together yet!" It is very unlike me. I am always ahead of the game. "I need to get some Easter stuff to. I'll come with you. You need a friend," she replied.
I picked her up and we went to the dollar store. I was not feeling it, at all. I literally put in minimal effort. I usually will buy books, Bath and Body Works lotion, thoughtful things.... This year I was like- jelly beans, chocolate bunny, peanut butter egg, tooth brush and a $20. The slackest Easter baskets ever. I didn't even feel bad.
I decided that if the kids acted disappointed I would tell them that God is disappointed that they don't appreciate that he gave his only son to die for their sins. I'm a good mom like that.
After our excursion at the Dollar Tree, my friend needed to stop by Walmart. We were walking through the store and it felt like I had gum on the bottom of my sandals. Something did not feel right. BOTH of the soles of my shoes were cracking. "That's weird." We continued to walk around the store and then my heel just fell off, unexpectedly, right in the middle of the aisle.
I looked around, no one saw it happen. "Run," I said to my friend. We did. With each step, more and more of the soles came off. My shoes were literally disintegrating before my eyes. Both of them. It was the strangest thing. "These shoes are a metaphor for my life right now," I said, decidedly. We laughed so hard that we were crying. I left a trail of foam behind me in the parking lot as I walked to the car.
Look at these things:
Unacceptable.
The next night was Easter eve. I stuffed my sad, mediocre baskets and hid them. Then, I painted bunny prints on the ground. "You know that the kids don't believe in the Easter Bunny anymore," my husband said (as if I needed the reminder). It is a force of habit. I am not ready to let it go yet. They are still kids, after all.
There was no early morning waking the next day. In fact, my husband and I woke up before the kids. They were not overly enthusiastic about finding their baskets or about the candy. There was no delighted shrieks when they emptied all the chocolate. They did appreciate the $20 bill, though. I watched my daughters, almost as big as me now, sitting on the couch and rummaging through their Easter baskets and I wondered-how did this happen?
Your kids are little....until they're not. Of course it's gradual but you don't even realize it until one day you wake up and it's your reality. It's as if it happens over night. I love my big girls but I do miss my babies.
We had breakfast and then got ready to go to brunch with my family. "Listen guys, you have to dress nice. A dress or a skirt and blouse...." I was met by a collective groan. My 10 year old rolled her eyes. "Why do we have to pretend like we are fancy or something?" We have this argument EVERY TIME they have to dress up for anything. It's super annoying.
I went into my bathroom to get dressed. When I emerged, my girls were dressed. My youngest was wearing a nice dress paired with BLACK COMBAT BOOTS and my oldest daughter was showing more cleavage than Jessica Rabbit.
They know. I have pretty low expectations but they know not to show up to Easter with combat boots and cleavage. NO, NO, NO. So we all had a huge argument and they went back to their rooms to change. They came out looking much better but were not happy. I got dirty looks. Again, I didn't give a shit.
On the way there, I gave the speech. "Make sure to be polite. Don't make any off-color remarks. If someone asks you a question you don't like, give a vague answer. Try to act happy and let's pretend like we like each other, okay?"
The girls nodded and my husband smirked. That's how we roll. Happy Belated Easter!
It's certainly been a while. For good reason. I have been in survival mode. Sure, it's been busy but it's more than that. I've been pulling into myself, gathering my inner strength, resting. This school year has not been easy for anyone in my household. I think I'm going to have PTSD. This was me at the start of the school year:
This is me now at Spring Breaktime:
I can't. WE just can't go on like this anymore. We have made the extremely difficult decision not to send my oldest daughter back to her school next year. I'm not sure about my youngest yet. I think it has almost killed me. I can't sleep. I wake up every night at 3 am in a cold sweat and can't get back to sleep. I'm breaking out. I'm just overall feeling stressed about the whole thing. I've prayed on it and think that is the right decision but it is not easy for many reasons.
Last night, I was just done. I was so tired and achy. I put on my sweats, pulled my hair into a ponytail and looked in the mirror. I am all pimply along my jawline, I've dark circles under my eyes. I've recently started sprouting random 2-inch long gray hairs in the middle of my forehead. Weird, right? They just show up overnight. I truly cannot believe my husband still wants to sleep with me.
I went downstairs and made myself a giant slice of chocolate cake. That wasn't it though- I pulled anything sugary out and spread it on the cake. Extra icing, caramel and chocolate syrup. I poured myself a big glass of milk and sat down on the couch next to my husband. He's not doing much better. He's back in school, work is busy. "Wanna watch Unsolved Mysteries?" He knows my heart. We shared the cake and watched our show and it was so nice. This is marriage - two tired, stressed out, fat parents sitting on the couch watching Robert Stack in a trench coat tell scary stories while sharing chocolate cake. That's romance.
The kids...they're okay, I guess. My oldest is grounded for life right now. I took her phone and she is not allowed to have access to internet or any of her electronics. She is so pissed but is taking it well. She's been a lot more productive. She is the one who baked the chocolate cake we were eating.
Anyway, I have had her phone and every time she gets a text or a message - it pings. Since Saturday, she's had 3 boys ask her out. Since SATURDAY. The texts go something like this, "I really like you a lot. Will you go out with me?" Where the hell do they think they will go? I am so triggered. I texted them back. "My daughter is punished and doesn't have a phone and NO she is not allowed to go out with you." I like you a lot, yeah - I know what that means. Go take a cold shower and read the Bible or something. Am I allowed to say that to random kids? Probably not.
Even my 5th grader came home on Friday and said, "Yeah, this kid asked if I would be his girlfriend. I just laughed and said, "No way!" Well, way to let the kid down easy. The hormones are just out of control. Christ Almighty!
As I was saying, my oldest has no electronics and she was trying to get us to give her one of our old phones so she can listen to music. Does she think I was born yesterday? I said, "I'll get you some music." I went into the garage and pulled out an old CD player with a radio tuner on the side. It's not even digital. I went into her room and set it down. She looked at me like I gave her an ancient relic. "I don't even know how to use this," she said, turning up her nose. "Well, you better figure it out because we gon party like it's 1999 up in here."
She was crying. "I miss my friends. I need them." I rolled my eyes, "Write them a letter. That's what I did when I was your age."
She's accepted her fate and has learned how to use the radio and CD player. We were out and about today and stopped by a thrift store that had a bunch of CDs. "Ohhhh! Mom, can I get some CDs?" They were a buck so I said she could pick out a few. These were her selections:
She has good taste in music. I hope she enjoys them because it's just her and that CD player until the end of the school year. As soon as the school year is over, we are leaving the country. I can't wait - I need it.
Whoa! Where has the month went? Things have been crazy around here. We've had the usual children's activities, I'm working part-time now, my husband decided to go back to school (you know, in his spare time) and has been busy getting of that together, I've got volunteer commitments and various social engagements. Life is good, but man-o-man is it full. My cup runneth over.
I sat down this evening and realized that tomorrow is the first day of spring. Already! That means that spring break is right around the corner which means it's almost the end of the school year. The end of the school year always makes me a little melancholy. Another school year has come and gone in the annals of my children's lives. *sigh* Time marches on and with every passing year they slip farther away from me.
With children, it's so subtle at first. When they start to walk, the first time they wave good-bye, when they start school.....Then adolescence hits and it's not so subtle anymore. It screams in your face. It's a time when your kids start to realize that you aren't perfect and that you haven't really got it all figured out. When they question if they really NEED you? Besides financial support and chauffeuring, they know they need you for that.
This school year has been downright traumatic for me. My 10 year old has done the separation-thing and it has nearly killed me and broken my heart. I don't hold it against her and I realize that it is completely necessary and normal....but it is not easy. It's different this time around. When my oldest daughter began to be this way, I still had an 8 year old who thought I was the best, who insisted on me laying down with her every night and rubbing her back, who snuggled next to me whenever I sat. It made it easier, that I still had a little one left.
Now, here I am. It feels strange sometimes. The other night, my husband and I were sitting on the couch for almost 2 hours and didn't even see the children. They were in their rooms - doing whatever kids their age do - probably listening to music we wouldn't approve of and taking pictures of themselves. "I feel like I'm neglecting the kids right now," I said. My husband laughed, "More like they are neglecting us."
I had a good week with my youngest. She only rolled her eyes at me 9 times instead of 56. She didn't look at me like I had 3 heads when I asked her how her day was. She didn't call me a pervert when I told her she looked pretty. The other day, I was taking a nap and she came in and crawled onto me and laid her head on my back. I was so happy, like
There are so many things that we deal with that I can't even talk about. For all the things I do share, there are tons of things I don't because I DO value my kid's privacy. I could write an entire book about the horrors of puberty, the text messages that have been sent by boys, some questionable things they say...... It's the worst. Most days I walk around like
For instance, here are some sentences came out of my mouth recently:
"Guys, we don't listen to songs about cooking dope in a crockpot. Crockpots are for cooking chili and lasagna."
"I can see your entire bra. No, you can't wear that to school."
"You cannot have Dr. Pepper and a bag of popcorn for breakfast."
"Who is that boy and how old is he?"
And I have GOOD kids. I think they just like to see squirm. I don't just pray every night - I have a running conversation with God all day, every day. "Dear Lord, please protect these children....lead them in the way they should go....give me strength...."
The other week, I made jerk chicken for dinner. I purchased a new marinade and sliced fresh limes and cooked them in the crock pot. It smelled delicious and my mouth watered as I scooped it onto the plates. We all sat down to eat and the moment I bit into the chicken I knew it was a miss.
My oldest said, "It tastes like you marinated this in....hand sanitizer." I was so disappointed. "Don't worry, like, 90% of your food is delicious, mom." I do try. "Screw it!", I said, "Let's just go to Moes. It's Moe's Monday."
I thew the dinner in the trash - $7.98 worth of chicken. It hurt my heart. We ordered our food, sat down in a booth and chatted about our day. The girls were both in a good mood and were chatty. It was just a normal, delightful evening.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a lady and her family. She had two boys who were probably 3 and a half and 18 months old. She appeared to 5 months pregnant. She was quietly melting down on the 3 year old. She pulled a chair out from the table and put him in "time-out" and was talking sternly under her breath. The 18 month old is eating but getting his food everywhere. The dad is just sitting there eating, oblivious. Before long the mom lets the 3 year old back to the table and she looked so cross.
Then the 18 month old picked up his pacifier and I thought he was going to put it in his mouth but instead just threw it on the ground. That was the last straw for mom. She picked up the pacifier, threw it angrily into the trash can and said to the baby, "There! Are you happy? Now it's gone!!!"
She sat down at the table again and stared out into space. She looked tired. Her husband got the hint and got up, cleared the table and left with the kids. She sat there for a minute, looking defeated. Then she got up and struggled to collect her purse, a diaper bag, a sippy cup, a toy and left.
I felt bad for her and as she left, I said a little prayer for her strength and sanity. I know her life. I've lived that life. I had a 3 year old and a 1 year old. Kids are great and beautiful. Being a mother is amazing. But is it easy? Hell no! She probably had a rough day. This is the day in the life of a mom with two young kids: Wake up at 6 am and lament that you haven't had a good night sleep in 3 and a half years. Your husband gets ready for work, where he gets to talk to actual adults. You get up and change your first diaper of the day. Then, you make breakfast for the kids. The 18 month old will throw more food on the floor than they eat. The 3 year old will scream and cry that you gave them milk in the minion cup when they wanted the Mickey Mouse cup.
You sit on the couch and drink a cup of coffee while your kids watch Calliou and wonder how you will make it through the day. So tired. So, so tired. Plus, you hate Calliou, he's such a whiny b**ch. Your 3 year old needs to go potty, you help and supervise the butt wiping. Because, that is a parenting thing. While you're doing that, your 18 month old found a pen and has scribbled on the couch and her face. Where did that pen come from?
You clean up the kid and get both children dressed. You are going to take them to the park. It beats having to stay in the house and entertain them. Maybe there will be other adults you can talk to. First you have to pack a bag: diapers, wipes, change of clothes, sippy cups, water, snacks, changing pad. You've been doing this EVERY time you leave the house for 3 and a half years.
You go to the park and you push the kids on the swings for an hour. You catch them at the bottom of the slide. The 18 month old will fall in wood chips while running and will cry like her legs were cut off. You will wipe tears and console. Then you will go home to make lunch.
You make the kids lunch but your oldest refuses to use utensils. The youngest is cranky and throws food on the ground. You pray for strength. Then - nap time. The 18 month of falls asleep right away. The 3 year old fights and wants you to lay with her. You do, for 20 minutes, before she falls asleep. You WANT to fall asleep too but you can't. You have breakfast and lunch dishes to do, laundry to fold, and you have to scrub the pen off the couch.
You get all of that done and when you do, you breathe a sigh of relief, and sit down on the sofa for a moment of silence. The exact minute your bottom hits the seat, the 3 year old comes out and asks for a snack. Then your 18 month old wakes up too. While you are getting snacks, the 18 month old hides behind the couch and takes a dump.
You change the diaper and think, I can't wait until you use the potty because I'm tired of these man-poops. You let them watch Dora while they eat their snacks. You watch it too - because, f**k it! you have nothing better to do with your life. Dora goes on more adventures than you now-a-days.
After Dora, TV is off. The pediatrician says limit TV to an hour a day. You sit on the floor and play blocks and read them a book. You leave them to play with their toys while you fix dinner. While you are making dinner, the phone rings. It's your husband. "I'm going to be half an hour late tonight." FFFFFUUUUUUU, really?!?! REALLY?!?! "Okay, that's cool."
"Maybe we can, you know, tonight."
"Maybe."
Let's be honest - no one is doing anything tonight. You only have sex once a week, in the hall bathroom for the 3 minutes your kids are distracted while they're watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.
You put dinner in the oven and then you corral your children to come in the bathroom with you because you can't leave them unattended. They try to inadvertently kill themselves all the time. They sit on the floor in front of you and you read them Hop on Pop while you take a crap. Because, multi-tasking.
You try to finish dinner. Your 18 month old keeps coming in, opening the cabinet and throwing pot lids on the floor. Then your 3 year old has a melt down because the 18 month old took the red block. The 3 year old hits the 18 month old in the face with said block. They both start screaming. You console the 18 month old and put the 3 year old in time out.
You grab a boo-boo bunny from the freezer and apply it to the 18 month old's forehead because she's going to have a bruise. The kids are settled again. You are putting dinner on plates when your husband walks in. The kids run to him like he's a movie star, like it's the best thing that happened all day. You feel like chopped liver.
You put the 18 month old in the high chair and the 3 year old in the booster seat. They are actually eating it. You are surprised. You ask your husband about his day and he tells you about how the fax machine broke and how Lenny in HR is getting a divorce. You are jealous of his interesting life.
After dinner your husband rough houses with the children while you clear the table and do the dishes. Then it's bath time. Your husband goes to take off his work clothes and "relax". You fill up the bathtub with water and put both kids in. While you are washing the 3 year old, the 18 month old stands up and takes a piss. In the bathwater. You are too tired to even care. Isn't urine supposed to be sterile anyhow?
You take them out, dry them off. The three year old runs naked through the house as you diaper and clothe the 18 month old. You have to chase down the 3 year old to get her pajamas on. You feed them their evening snack then brush their teeth. Will the help of your husband, you have to physically restrain the 18 month old and pry open her mouth to brush her teeth. You wonder, Did I brush my teeth today?
You let the kids each pick out a book. If You Give A Mouse a Cookie and Goodnight Moon - AGAIN. You don't even need the books, you know them by heart. Goodnight, bowl full of mush....who the hell eats mush anyway.
You settle them into bed. You call your husband in. You kiss their heads and tell them goodnight. They smile and say "I wub you" and you know they are going to sit there and kick the wall before they actually fall asleep.
You take a shower for the first time today. It's one of the small luxuries in your life - a hot shower after the kids have gone to bed. You might actually FLOSS tonight - you are really getting your shit together. You get out of the shower and put on your pajamas. You tiptoe into the kids room and gaze at your children's sleeping faces in the moonlight. You melt into the floor. I love you so much. You are so beautiful and worth it.
You join your husband on the couch. "You look exhausted," he says. You ARE exhausted. When will you NOT be exhausted? You don't know - possibly never. Certainly not tomorrow or the next day. "I am too tired to play the piano, but you can touch my boobs if you want," you say. You have to throw a bone out there every now and then.
You try to watch a grown up show but you nod off at the commercial. Your husband wakes you at 9 pm and you shuffle to bed in a half-dreamlike stupor. Then you do it all again, the next day and the next and the next.
I never judge a mom with young kids. It is so incredibly hard. Insanely difficult. To the mom in Moes - you can do this. It's okay to melt down and be exhausted sometimes. Tomorrow is a new day.
I relayed the story of the Moe's mom to my husband and children after she left. "That sounds horrible!" said my 10 year old. Then I told some of the stories about them when they were that age. The time I was peeing in the stall with my 2 year old and she broke free and ran out. There I sat, with my pants down in front of two strangers, yelling for my daughter to come back. The time I let them hold a loaf of french bread in the grocery store and they were hitting each other with it, I ran over it with my cart after they dropped it and then ate half of it and I didn't realize until we were at check out. The time my daughter lifted up my skirt in front of 10 people at a random pharmacy.
The time my daughter was screaming "Stop hurting me!" over and over again in a library when I made her stand next to me because she was literally trying to climb shelves. The time my oldest daughter body slammed by youngest into the dairy section at Publix or when one tried to kick the other and her shoe flew off and went over the next aisle....That is just a small sample. Horrible, horrible things. It's shocking that I ever took them out in public.
But, here we were. Both children in public, eating dinner and enjoying it. No one was crying, no one was hitting each other, no one decided to randomly sit underneath the table, no one was throwing tortilla chips on the floor on purpose. When did that happen?
My life with older children is easier in a lot of ways, but harder in a lot of ways too. I'm still exhausted. I've been tired for nearly 13 years now. This is my new normal. My life is hectic, I am a mom. With bigger kids, come bigger problems. Your kids begin to deal with things that are out of your control, they have problems that you can't fix, they deal with heartbreak and disappointment and in those moments, I think that I would much rather have sleepless nights and wipe asses. I didn't appreciate how simple life was then. In 5 years I will probably feel that way about the stage I am now.
The point is, that being a parent is not easy. It is demanding. It is hard. It is wonderful. It is confusing. It is heart-breaking and heart-filling all at once. Somehow, we survive it and our kids survive us. It's kind of a miracle.
Wednesday started out as a normal day. I went about my normal routine and at 3 o'clock went to pick up my 10 year old to take her to gymnastics. I watched her walk out of the school but she wasn't smiling or talking to anyone.
She opened the door, plopped down in the passenger's seat and laid her head back. "Mom, I don't feel good. I've been achy all day, my throat hurts and I'm burning up," she groaned.
I reached over and placed my hand on her forehead. She was hot.
"When did you start feeling bad?" I asked.
"This morning," she replied.
"What the heck? Why didn't the nurse call me?"
"I didn't tell my teachers, I didn't want to bother them."
"Well, you have a cell phone. You could have just texted me," I said.
She shrugged, "I didn't want to bother you either."
I was so upset, thinking about my feverish child suffering all day long. Poor thing.
"Listen, if you feel sick EVER - you need to tell someone or call me and I will come get you. That is not bothering anyone."
"But I knew I could make it."
She is tough cookie. Meanwhile, my 12-year old texts me once every 2 weeks like, "My stomach hurts. Can you pick me up?" I fell for that one time. Picked her up from school and then she had the nerve to ask me if I'd take her to Chik-fil-a.
I drive my daughter home and the whole time I'm feeling like a horrible parent because my kid was ill all day and I was just going about my business. Bad Mom Award.
As soon as we got home I took her temperature - 101.2. Not alarmingly high, but high enough. Her baseline temperature is 97.5. It used to freak me out, but apparently some people have lower body temps. She must be some kind of reptilian shape-shifter or something. So even when she has a temp of 99, she presents as more ill than your average person.
I told her to take a shower. I made her a healthy snack and got her some medicine. She crawled into bed and I sat on the edge as she took her medicine. She looked up at me with her glazed eyes, "Thanks so much for taking care of me, mom. I love you so much. Will you lay with me?"
What?!?! Something is wrong with this child she must be REALLY sick. Somebody call 9-11.
She slept for a long time. Her fever went up and down and kept her hydrated and medicated. I took her into the doctor this morning and she tested positive for flu. The doc prescribed her Tamiflu and told me to keep her home and resting until next Monday.
She was supposed to participate gymnastics competition in Savannah on Friday. She had tears in her eyes. "Mom, I really wanted to go and now you wasted all of your money. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. You need to get better, there's no reason to be sorry. Sometimes things like this happen."
Besides, when you are a parent of a middle schooler, you constantly are just throwing money down the toilet. I was more upset that she wasn't going to get to go. She works so hard.
We drove to the pharmacy to drop off her prescription and she asked, "Can we go to Sonic and get corn dogs?"
Really, you have a fever of 102 and are barely holding your head up and you just want to go get corndogs?
"How about a Powerade slushie instead and I'll make you chicken noodle soup when we get home?"
She rested all day and she is in better spirits. Her fever is hanging out around 100. I just went in to check on her and I reached out to feel her forehead. She gave me a dirty look. "Stop trying to touch me, you pervert!"
I would say she's starting to feel better and getting back to her normal self.
