...choosing favorites...

A friend of mine who doesn't have kids, likes to routinely ask me, "So...which one is your favorite?" I always laugh at this question. Partly because I know the two of us live very different lives, partly because I know they have their favorite and partly because they cannot understand the gravity of that question. Different times of day we all have the best or even better versions of ourselves...Some people are morning people, others do their best work as night owls and some have just your run of the mill "Pissy Pant" days. I quantify this into my answer for this question, and much to their dismay, I always say, "All of them..."

But as time moves across my face, waistline and navigates my old lady hormones, I cannot help but feel conflicted. I always sort of shook my head in disbelief at those moms who "mourned" their children getting older. Why? Why wouldn't you want these precious offspring to become more independent, less poop-pant-filled and grown up? But as I get ready for the next birthday in my house, I find myself becoming one of those sad-sacks, who just upon looking at a picture of my youngest child in a highchair, for what seems a million years ago, I get almost misty. I'm not claiming a favorite child, but I am recognizing that our relationship is indeed special.

In two weeks my Atticus, the little fellow with such a powerful name, will be turning 5 years old. How is that possible? It seems like yesterday I was coming home with him from the hospital. I feel like he is the best version of the youngest child, because he doesn't take any crap from his siblings. He is a straight shooter, who only tells it like it is when he feels it is necessary. He has developed this sense of humor that will carry him through life in a way that I know will be positive. But no matter what the calendar says, my mind races back to him at nine months old.

I used to sort of begrudge doing evening feedings at times with my kids. I felt like I was missing out on all the action as I attempted to put to sleep a child with a bottle in a lightly dimmed room. I was always strict with a routine when my kids were this little, and my control freak ways lead me to believe that if I didn't put the child to bed, it wouldn't be done correctly. CHUMP. But, be that as it may, that routine probably saved more than my sanity when I became outnumbered by kids. And all these years later, little did I know at the time, it was a therapy for me that will be forever unmatched.

I remember sitting in a rocking chair with Atticus, probably more than I remember sitting with any of my other children. I would feed him a bottle and pretty much mentally cleanse whatever it was I was dealing with at the time, and there was plenty. I would look at him and wonder about life. I would look at him and wonder why he was dealt the hand that he had been. I would hold him just as he was drifting off and think, how will he ever know normal? He was my alarm clock in the morning (still is) and my night cap at night. He was so little, but he helped me in ways I will never be able to fully explain. I believe he was given to me for this specific reason, well before I knew how my life would have ever been. He is more than just my child, he is my gift.

I love all of my children exactly the same, they are all my favorite...but in different ways. Oscar is my creative, contemplative, quiet soul, who has something to say, but usually thinks about it before he says it. When he laughs at my jokes, I take it as the highest compliment. Abe is my outgoing character, who loves to love with his whole heart and be in the mix of everything, dispensing comic relief when necessary all the while understanding when to deliver a punchline. Nora is my old soul, with a creative mind, unconventional and a heart filled with love. Atticus is this tiny power house, with a loving heart, quick with a compliment and the most unique youngest child. He might not have been my first child, but he will always be my essential example of why silver linings are more than a way of looking at life, as they were given to me in the quiet, of a dim lit room...

I'm still a chump...

There are those times in life, when you stumble upon what is referred to as a "life hack." Last night, while watching TV with my kids, in the hopes to wind them down for a nice night's sleep, we came upon an animated Lego show. They were babbling away and then this Lego piece came up on the screen. I said, "What is that? I have thrown about 15 of those away in the last couple of years...what's the point?" Oscar, not taking his eyes off the screen said, "...oh, that is a Lego Brick Separator...they come with every Lego set." So, I asked him to elaborate.

After 12 years of parenting, MILLIONS of Legos found, stepped on, swept up and thrown away, this little odd looking tool helps separate Lego creations, where possibly little fingers cannot cut the mustard. I found myself dumbfounded. What? When? How long has this been going on? How many other "life hacks" are out there that I am unaware of? What was I doing with my life?

Among the many things that I ponder in the late night/early morning hours, I constantly question if I am getting things done right. I wonder why I chose one selection of words instead of another. I question if I will ever walk away from one disagreement or another that I might have with my kids and think, good job. At the rate life is moving, I want to laugh at the chump who was raising kids in my house 3 years ago. She didn't know how good she had it. They were shorter, younger, slower, dependent and less verbal than they are now. I have told my mother recently on more than one occasion, how much I respect her for not selling me to gypsies when I was 12 years old. I know all about "The Strong Willed Child," but I haven't heard of the "Mouthy Pre-Teen Mantra,"...what I assume should be the companion book.

The mother who was raising kids in this house 3 years ago, was more trying to keep up with a toddler than policing social media, arguing about who is in charge and more over having to mentally fight the urge to say to one or more of my kids, "You are not always RIGHT!" I know lately, I have routinely also uttered the phrase, "...well, you need to just let that go." I have said it to bickering kids, almost bickering kids, kids who cannot stand the sight of each other and also to myself. But when does that mantra become effective? Where is my LEGO BRICK SEPARATOR?!


I love my kids more than they will ever know. I am ultimately hoping that this rut in the road of parenting will become easier, more manageable, and at some point less stressful...maybe we just need spring? I know, I'm a still a chump. There are no life hacks for raising kids I'm figuring out. There are no magical mantras or cocktails that will make things easier. I have been told that one day, I will miss these trying times of parenting. Get ahold of me in 20 years, sitting on my front porch with not a thing to do, and I'll let you know.

...short girls...

"Remember, no man is a failure who has friends." ~ It's a Wonderful Life

 

They are the people who lift you up. They are the people who call you out when needed. They are the people who stand by you through thick and thin. Friends. Whether you have known them all of your life, or only for a blip of where you currently reside, friends are the family that requires no bloodline. Friends are the people that you are blessed to have in your life. Friends are the ones who make sure you are okay after peeing your pants.

I am blessed. Every morning when I wake up, no matter how sleep deprived or crummy I feel, I sit up in bed and think, I am blessed. The silver lining of what I have been through is friendship, some were reaffirmed while others popped up wonderfully unexpected. While life sometimes hands you things you would rather not touch, there are these people that stand by you and help you through. I am blessed to have the friends that I do. More locally, I am blessed with these particular two women, who without which, I would be miserable. My life is fuller, my sanity is intact and my heart wells for these two women, my short girls...it is not a slight, we're all just short.

When you have kids, you can only hope for them. You hope they succeed. You hope they make good choices. You hope they have caring friends. Boys will be boys, but I worry about Nora when I think of friendships. Will she meet people who can see how unique she is? Will she make a friendship that makes her a better person, instead of try to conform her? Nora is an old soul, which is the best way to describe her. She doesn't have to be a leader, nor does she have to follow. She's not big on standing out, but also doesn't feel the need to conform. This makes finding a friend circle difficult. She talks about the boys she plays with at school, but never the girls. She has confidence in herself so maybe worrying doesn't really matter. Then last week something happened that struck my friendship heartstrings...

Picking her up from school, I noticed that she was wearing different pants. Oh my, I thought to myself, that cannot be good. My mind raced trying to remember if I had ever wet my pants at school...nope. Once in the house, I asked her what had happened, and she said she just couldn't wait the five minutes the substitute teacher asked of her. Five minutes? I couldn't wait that long if I had to go! I ushered her to my room to take a shower. I asked her if she had gotten upset, to which she quickly changed the subject to how much she loved the dry pants they gave her to wear...okay?

My phone notified me of a message. It was from my friend, one of the short girls, saying that her son was very worried about Nora and was checking to see if she was okay after being upset at school. Wow. My eyes almost welled up as let Nora know that her friend wanted to know if she was okay. The look on her face was priceless...in that moment I knew, I didn't have to worry (at least for now) about the friends she had at school. She clearly is making good choices.

Why am I writing this? You only have this one life, and if you aren't filling it with people that will check on you after peeing your pants...well, then you aren't living it to the fullest. Here is to the people I'm blessed to call a friend, a sister and undoubtedly a short girl...you make my life better, and I just wanted to thank you.

...turning a cell...

DO YOU HEAR THAT? It is a splendid noise, like the first birds of spring, chirping their little hearts out or a gentle breeze of a new season playing the wind chimes that hang by my back door. It is me, doing TWO LESS PEOPLE'S LAUNDRY...of course, they don't really know what has hit them yet...meanwhile, I lie in wait.

Taking a page from Sun Tzu's Art of War, I have waged a silent war in this quiet house in little Canton, Missouri. The war is being fought in the name of all adults who painstakingly perform the task of...laundry. My rage, slightly less seething, has reached its plateau. While I have not so silently threatened the "laundry strike" before, today I am carrying out what countless others have dared to threaten before...I'm finished.

Of course I have threatened before, "Where was that stuffed? That's it, you are doing your own laundry from now on, maybe you will understand why my eyes are yellow and the vein is bulging in my neck!!!" All spoken on deaf ears, with a look of, yeah sure...she's a control freak and will never let it get to that. Well, that day has come my friends...and it has been a long one coming.

Laundry has ALWAYS been my nemesis. At times it has quieted my mind, given me a reason for being or just been another bullet point on my unwritten resume that I can fold a fitted sheet. In a house with four kids, the laundry is something that always has to be done, always collecting and something I'm always trying to get ahead of. It is a love hate relationship, laundry and I. While most women take a secret moment with something they really desire at a clothing store, cut to me at Home Depot where I want to whisper sweet nothings to a shiny new washer and dryer package. I know, I need to get out more.

I found myself, last week "Turning a Cell," so to speak. A tiny bit of fear strikes into the heart of my children when I get that look in my eye, knowing their room really needs cleaned. It's akin to a prison show, where the Warden decides the start "Turning Cells" to find any contraband. So, I decided that I needed to check up on the Talls' room to get some things picked up. It was there, as I was putting away their clothes, found jammed into every corner of their dressers, which I found a few articles that I had ironed. Really? I ironed this, for what? I ironed this, told them that I did, and told them to hang it up so the twenty minutes it took to do it wouldn't be wasted. Wow. That...well, that sucks! What the hell was I doing with my free time besides making sure they didn't look as if they had gotten dressed in a van down by the river? Then, besides a few choice swears that I muttered under my breath, I said three words. I. Am. Done.

So, like Sun Tzu, I have silently waged my war on laundry. What the Talls are blissfully unaware of is that I stopped doing their laundry. Done. Finished. I have done laundry, trust me when I really say it never stops...but not theirs. When I warned last evening about my strike, Oscar eluded to the notion that he thought that was some sort of child abuse, to which I almost spit out my coffee with laughter. This morning, Abe was looking for something in the dryer. I said, you're not going to find it there...He looked at me. After informing him that I no longer did their laundry, he looked at me. I told him that if he didn't want to be wearing his bathing suit to school by Wednesday, he had better collect the laundry and get to it.

The next battle will be the pissing match between the Talls of whose turn it is to launder their unmentionables...but that isn't my fight. My battle, forever ongoing, experienced a small victory today, flushed with the notion of a lesser load of laundry and a mom's most important aspect of warfare...sticking to her word.

...hey jealousy...

Awe...its pissy pants Monday here with one of my precious offspring, I wish I had gotten the memo or for that matter even know how to quell it. But alas, I sent him off to school flushed with the hope that it would somehow go away by 3:30 this afternoon, I pre-apologize to his teachers at this moment. Some days you just get the "Pissy Pants" card, but some notice or even cause would be appreciated once in a while.

While I was sipping my coffee in the predawn hours of my kitchen, I came across a story on my social media feed. It was entitled "The 5 Things You Should Know About Dating a Single Mom." I'll admit, upon seeing it I was intrigued. I got about half a paragraph in and thought, what the hell? I don't need to read this, I live it. After thinking about it, all the things they could have put in that first paragraph, I wonder if I should go back and read the rest.

Fact of the matter is, IT IS TOUGH. If any one man knew the inner workings of my brain upon looking at me, he should RUN not walk away. My control issues...my hang-ups...my anxieties. If I knew 12 years ago that I would end up a single mother, I probably wouldn't have had the courage, moxie or the self-confidence to do it. Any mother who chooses to do this is either psychotic or has their shit together way more than I do. It is one thing to get married, start a family and the marriage does not work out. You came, you saw, you tried, it didn't work and you made the decision to end things. But what about someone who didn't get to make that decision.

Dating is difficult at any age. The beginning is thrilling, getting to know all of the inner workings of another person that you are excited to be around, talk to and think about. The simplicity of wanting to spend time with someone who makes you a better, nuttier, loving version of yourself. There are no other factors to consider besides being happy. Fast forward 20 years, you are older and now have more people to take into consideration on just about every choice or decision you make, even down to what kind of toothpaste you purchase. How does your brain and your heart work in the single-mother-dating-category?

Nora has been on the prowl for a grown man in this house since nearly the beginning. She would check out men at the grocery store, look them up and down and rate them even at 4 years old. To her it's more than just wanting to marry me off, to her it is trying to find a man to look to and up to for security. No person will ever replace her father, but I found it interesting that her coping mechanism was just as simple as putting together a puzzle...if one piece is missing, fill it with another.

Maybe my brain could more easily traverse around this beautiful vista of dating if I had chosen it. Maybe I could put aside my anxieties about what I may or may not be doing to all of those of whom I am responsible. Maybe I would be able to make a decision for myself outside of wanting what is best for all involved. Maybe I could just trust myself and let myself be happy before turning tail and running. I have seen dozens of people get married in the last 4 years, some of whom I have been lucky enough to introduce. While I am genuinely happy for them, to find that person that completes all the wonderful things that make them who they are, at times I am jealous. Of course, Ryan Gosling isn't going to show up at my door and start a life with me, he already has one.

"Hey Jealousy," one of my favorite old songs, and I know I'm showing my age, has a line in it that my psyche reminds me of from time to time. "The past is gone, but something might be found to take its place." Who cannot relate to this phrase? The fact is, I'm jealous of those people who can be in a place to let their heart take the wheel. I have been so very lucky to have the people in my life that I do. I am so very lucky to have these children, pissy pants and all, to raise and watch become such interesting aspects of their father and myself. I am so very lucky to know what it was and is like to be loved. Now, I just need to get around my own issues that are holding me back.

I write this not because I want sympathy, frankly that is the last thing that I want. I write this because I want to add to the article that I almost read this morning. Dating a single parent isn't about who might get in the way of it, even if it was chosen. Dating a single parent is understanding that there are a million needs that need to be met before the single parent ever gets around to their own. This single parent just wants to get around the subconscious stuff sometime soon, and be able to share all the crazy, fun, heartfelt moments with someone else. Even if Ryan Gosling isn't knocking on the door, I want to be ready for whoever is brave enough to.

...the Green Bean Standoff of 2014

The two worst words you could say to a control freak? IT'S FINE... What's fine? Are you even fixing the problem? Do you know that I possibly know 3 ways to fix it? Do you know that "its fine" didn't even really answer the question I asked you? Hello, my name is Kate, and I am a control freak. Everyone has flaws, no one is perfect. Some flaws you have to embrace, some flaws you work at hiding and others keep you awake at night. I chalk it up as being human, everyone feels this way. However, when you see your worst traits in the humans you are trying to raise into upstanding citizens of society...

Talking to Abe about his birthday, I asked him what he wanted. He is at that age where toys aren't really on his list, clothes while appreciated are kind of boring and he really doesn't need another pair of shoes. I told him that even his Christmas list was a little skint, to which he agreed. He looked at me and said,"...don't take this the wrong way, but I really would just like some money." Eleven years old. Interesting, as I was probably still playing with Barbie at his age, but I kind of get it. But the control freak in me had me worried for a minute. Could I be raising someone who only longed for the almighty dollar?

I pondered his response and I said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's not about just wanting money, more about you really don't know what to say when someone asks you what you want, right?" He said, EXACTLY. I totally get it. I too am the same way. I'm not sure if it is the control freak in me, indecisiveness or just the feeling like I want to really think it through. What I want? No one really asks you these questions when you get older, and when they do it is sort of a letdown as usually what you want is something practical. The reason no one ever says "Lousy with adulthood."

Stubbornness...it runs rampant in this house. I wonder where they get it. At first in my journey of motherhood, it was about ridiculous things like vegetables. Don't get me wrong, the Green Bean Standoff of 2014 is still discussed, mainly in hushed reverent tones. Those "stubborn tendencies" are more about not wanting to do something you know you should. But lately, stubborn has a less cute-and-cuddly connotation to it. It is now the standoff of who can proclaim their independence the best. While some things you just have to walk away from, cross your fingers and hope that they'll forget why they need/want/desire to wear only their underwear around the house...some others, well I'm sure there is a therapy session that could possibly help. I keep telling myself, this is supposed to happen, the sooner you ignore it, the sooner they will move on to some other equally annoying phase.

The ability to say, I'm sorry. Words fly fast around this house full of fast talking, quick witted, slightly sarcastic individuals. I'm glad they have the ability to "use their words" so to speak, but I'm vigilant on constantly teaching them that the two most important words they will ever use are, I'm sorry. Act quickly. Be sincere. Learn a lesson. Move on. Sometimes it goes in that order, sometimes it doesn't, but it is something that keeps me up at night wondering if they will ever learn the right order.

Pack mentality. I see it all the time. I'm not sure if it is because of what they have been through at a young age or if it is just the survival of the fittest. When my kids get around other kids, sometimes it is like they speak another language. They're not quick to include others in their game. They'll make pleasantries with a person, and then they're off, playing someone they see nearly every minute of their day. Why is that? Why wouldn't you want to mingle? Make a new friend? I've asked Nora before why she does this, and her reply is that she shy and has enough friends. Wow, there's a Hallmark movie waiting to happen.

All of these things, while not that big of a deal to most, leave my inner control freak mentally chewing on her nonexistent hair and rocking herself under the kitchen table. Every day, when I drop my kids off to school I say two things, slightly to embarrass them, but mostly to have them walk into school and think about what I said. Today, I realized that I need to say the same things to myself. So, in 2017 I have to try to let some of these things go, "make good choices" and remember "life is tough, but so are you."

... like talking to a cabby who speaks broken English

Oh...the New Year! So many rare and wonderful things to discover, so many habits to be broken, so much hormone-drama-riddled-madness...and we are only two days in. Really, I try to look at every New Year as a chance to not only kick some bad habits, but more over a time to adopt new attitudes. Looking at this year ahead of me, I'm making a conscious effort to remember that 2017 is a glass that is half full. Those silver linings that I've always cherished need to be written down or furthermore noted at the end of each day. At times they have been hard to see lately, but like I said, it's a new year so here we go.

There have been some subtle changes happening in this house, well not subtle, but everyone is getting older, acting older and more independent. There would have been a time when I longed for such things, but when they creep up on you like a cheap pair of underwear, instead of appreciating it, I have been taken off guard. It's the end of  the "veggie tray" era in this house. My children are "manure-ing"(aka maturing) as my parents put it when I was younger. I now see the hidden meaning in it, because sometimes it stinks. With maturity thrust among us, there have been a few things we have decided to banish, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was reminded by Abe the other day in the car, "It's less than a month until my birthday, and we haven't gone out for our special-pre-birthday-day..." CRAP! Dang-it! I totally forgot about that. I started it last summer as a way to take each kid out before their birthday for some one-on-one time with them, because let's face it, in this house-it's rare. We go out for a meal of their choice, they get to pick out an outfit and we just do something, just the two of us. With every kid it is different. With some of the kids, I was shocked to find that I needed to get to know them more, their likes and dislikes. With most every kid, the time is spent with a little indecisiveness as usually we run our show like a democracy. Who knew choosing a place to eat would be so frustrating? Initially there is a lull in the conversation on this outing, because like I said, it's rare. Today, was my day with Abe, and it was no different.

Thirteen miles. Thirteen miles from our little town to the next bigger one down the road. Thirteen miles of attempts to start a conversation by me, to which I was given the response, "...I don't know?" Whew. I'm not going to lie, I was worried after the ninth response of "I don't know?" These weren't tough questions. What are your likes? What are your dislikes? What do you want to be when you grow up? Finally, I just asked, "Ever shot a man in Reno just to watch him die?" To which I at least got a, "...huh?" With every date, I am bluntly reminded that I possibly do not know my kids the way I thought I did. The conversation usually picks up with time, but man, that first hour is like talking to a cabby who speaks broken English. Rest assured my next 'birthday date' will be much easier because he spends more time with me than anyone. Atticus has already told me that we are going to McDonalds...cheap date, I like it!

It was around Christmas that I started to notice there were a few phrases, habits and behaviors that really need to be banned in 2017. We're not talking devil worshiping, but just some things that really, if they could be replaced or outlawed all together, life would be a little easier. Here are the following things put on the "NOT IN 2017 LIST" this evening:

1. "I didn't know..." Last I checked, we all speak English in this house, there is no language barrier. If you DON'T KNOW, simply ask, I guarantee someone does.

2. "I tried..." I believe in trying your best all the time, but if it is your go-to answer, and you know the truth, don't go there...do some soul searching first. "I tried to clean my room, but I couldn't..." not buying what you are selling. Go try to shower, please.

3. YOUR OWN NAME. If someone says your name, do them the courtesy of looking at them or responding after the FIRST time they say it. If someone is required to say your name 3 times before you can answer, it's time for a Miracle Ear.

4. "No one told me..." Really? I mean, really? No one told you that you shouldn't put soda in your water bottle before bed? No one told you that you shouldn't light things on fire in my living room? No one told you that you shouldn't tie things to the cat's tail? You see where I'm going with this.

5. "I'm going to make sure I pee in the toilet today, mommy, as a special Christmas gift to you..." said in possibly the sweetest voice, but I digress. My response was, "Sweetheart, every day CAN BE Christmas!"

6. COURTESY FLUSH...or become a plumber.

7. If you complain about the processes of the management, you will be given the job to do for no less than one month...think hard about what a control freak the management is...this could be painful.

8. There will be respect, and not every thought you have HAS TO BE UTTERED. If I teach my kids nothing in 2017, I will teach them when respect is given freely, life is much more pleasant. Every word, every thought that passes your lips, you cannot take back...choose wisely.

We are ready and eager to see what 2017 holds, armed with our new list of habits to be broken. Here is to you and your 2017, hoping you find every day's sliver lining BEFORE sitting on a wet toilet seat!