...its epic, isn’t it?

That blissful moment when you catch yourself and realize…it isn’t the nudge of spring (don’t get me started on Mother Nature, clearly she was out too late last night). It’s not that world peace is near…not that all of the kids are asleep…not that you have mastered liquid eyeliner at the age of 41. The one quiet moment when you realize…you have all of the laundry caught up. It is a glorious feeling, so glorious so when I caught myself realizing it, I had to sit down and share…because it won’t probably last for more than an hour or so.

My life is filled with laundry…mine, theirs and at times the random Lego or action figure. I used laundry as an ever-present escape for a while, going to the basement to lug/fold/pretreat, time alone to my thoughts and the monotonous action of keeping my offspring clean looking and not smelling. As children grow, so do their clothes and this one time escape became almost an upper body workout of lugging, folding and pretreating. When my oldest children like to have about 4 wardrobe changes a day…not because they have that delicious B. O. that for some reason I can only smell, I went on strike. But I’ll get to that.

Then Mother Nature. As I afore mentioned, clearly she was tying one on last night, as we went from 60 degrees to a real-feel-temp of 22. Really? Just yesterday my children were cheering my name, honestly cheering, as they woke up in the morning because I declared it was a “short day”…obviously our kicks come easy around here. This morning? I was suddenly, enemy number one. Okay, well whatever you are all learning in your science classes at school? Yeah, the jig is up…that’s right, I CONTROL THE WEATHER…just one more perk of my “smother” title. But back to the bliss…

I miss the days of school uniforms. Polo shirt, khaki pants, white socks and done. The most I had to do was put them out and they would do the rest. But when you have a child, who thankfully buys most of his own clothes, but steadily mentions, “…um, that sweatshirt belongs on the gentle cycle, 20 minutes in the dryer with a dry towel and then hung to dry…”. UM….WHAT? I am sorry, I am not your maid or your entertainment director on this cruise ship of life. When it comes to laundry, I don’t sort, I don’t bleach and everything in the dryer if you are not of voting age. That is when the strike began.

Now, my OCD when it comes to life is sometimes like a mole on a person’s face. You see it, you know it is there, but eventually you don’t even notice it because of their sparkling personality or dazzling wit. So laundry was, my monkeys- my circus. But then, in hind sight quite symbolically, on Martin Luther King Day, it hit me…I want to declare, I need to declare, “Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I’m free at last…” And the craziest thing happened…it worked. Now we tweaked some things, I’ll be damned if I let a kid wash four things and call that a full load! I collect or ask for collection. I don’t sort. I wash everything together. And the only special attention goes to the ladies in the house and their unmentionables…because that crap isn’t cheap.

It took about a month but a strange realization set in. Suddenly, a few people in my house began to realize that the laundry is like a 24 hour factory, without the OSHA check-ins and the union meetings. Why were they folding laundry so often? How was it possible? They just folded laundry yesterday. As they were asking this, most appropriately it was cocktail time and as I answered them, looking over my cocktail, I responded with, “Welcome to my LIFE…its epic, isn’t it?”

Now, just to be clear, I’m not running a sweat shop out of my home. I just know that at times I’m spread thin, and any little task, otherwise known as a chore on the mean streets of America, that can offset my most convincing “Mommy Dearest” impression is for the greater good. And it was good. It was bliss. Did I mention that it is an early-out today? Someone walked in the back door, and immediately put something in the washing machine…nice while it lasted.

...heir to the thrown...

This is a cautionary tale... A letter to myself, not today but more like two years ago. Also, this is a reminder to anyone reading this, life is fleeting. Not in a "dooms-day" sort of way, more like an "enjoy-every-moment" kind of way...even the ones that aren't enjoyable, as those are the times you learn the most about who you are.

I was going through a couple of boxes today. Their whereabouts have been known for over a year, I just hadn't ever gotten around to getting them. The contents of which came from Jason's office. His day to day "stuff" he had cluttering his office. Pictures he had on his wall, frames he had on his desk. The rouge plate and fork that had gone missing from my cabinets years ago. DVDs he would play during a boring work day for background noise I suppose. Pictures the kids had drawn him over the years. Nothing on the surface that is that mind bending really, but clearly I was avoiding going through this stuff. In doing so, all I could notice is what was missing.

I met someone the other day I had only ever known via Facebook. He had been high school friends with Jason. He complimented me on how he thought I was doing. He remarked that I always seemed to have a positive outlook on life. I told him thank you, that it always wasn't that way. I figured I should have to PAY a copay for a therapy session, and told him in reality I might owe him money. It's interesting to what degree perception has when you look at life. His comment lifted me up, and for a moment I reminded myself to ponder that when I'm just about to have a Mommy Dearest moment.

The grief I go through isn't for myself. I've said that many times, and I only hope I can convey what I mean. It's like trying to fix something that isn't even there, doesn't exist to the human eye. My grief, my struggle just isn't for me. I suppose I feel like I have so many years of memories, that I don't have to strain to conjure them up. For my kids, it's completely different. Today I was reminded of that fact. Today, I thought to myself, wouldn't it have been therapeutic to be able to tell myself two years ago what I would need right now...so here goes...

"Dearest Kate~ It's me, I'm you...older, wiser, more tired, more caffeinated you. I don't want to spoil the details of what your life will be, so I'm giving you some advice. Take it.

You are going to think this is crazy...take more pictures! No, I haven't been hitting the bottle. Take more pictures of the kids and their Dad. You wouldn't believe the stunning lack of pictures...of anyone with Jason accept the heir to the thrown, Oscar. His picture has been over taken, but seriously, there are three other kids in this house aren't there? They need to have a ton of pictures taken with this man, if for no other reason that to just spark up some memory. Who cares if you're having a good hair day? You aren't someone they will need to remember, you'll be all they see and it'll drive you AND them crazy.

Make memories for these kids. Some day soon, all you will be able to think of is the 'should-haves' that never happened. Then your mind will think of the 'would-haves' that could have happened. Then lastly, when you are seriously wrecked, the 'never-got-to-haves' set in...and well from there it's nearly rock bottom. Your memories are yours forever, but the ones your kids have, well they are fleeting at best. With every passing day, a scant picture doesn't bring back what was there, and it gets harder for them. Those memories, I hope will help them rally through the dark days.

Remind yourself that you have GREAT kids. They will be your rock and your reason for living even more than you would ever think at this moment. Someday it will just be them, and you need them fiercely. Involve their Dad in your routine with them more. Yeah, he might want to watch the game and yeah, you are a control freak. But, when you are asked in years to come how HE would read a bedtime story? And you come up empty answered? It sucks in such a way that is maddening. Also, on the 'maddening' theme, lose your shit once in a while. Doesn't make sense? Well, there will be times when people nearly EXPECT you to not be on your A-game...so lose it. Your controlling ways may help you out, but honestly, you won't get a prize later for 'holding it all together' when you had the chance...I'm just saying.

Lastly, pick yourself up, keep those legs shaved, and the cocktails coming. You have absolutely no CLUE what life has in store for you...I'm just merely amending your life's guide. Like you seeing yourself from behind in a department store mirror, hindsight isn't too lovely in that light either."

...prison break

I love my children dearly. I love that I get to watch them grow into such different amazing people.I'm lucky because they are great kids. I don't begrudge my obligation to be their parent. To be a guiding influence in life, to have short nights, early mornings and loud rowdy days. That being said, it has been three weeks since I have been out of my house WITHOUT them. Tonight, as most anyone I know already knows since I have mentioned it ad nauseam, I'm getting out of the house!

I've already mentioned to my little rays of sunshine that while I love them, when the babysitter steps one foot into the house tonight, I will be stepping one foot out. I try to reassure them it isn't that don't want to be here with them. It's that I have to actually leave them every once and a while for me to appreciate them more. Not sure what I'm going to do (well, I totally do but that's for me to know), but some time away is, at this point in my brain, "critical-need" status.

That's the thing about my life...I miss spontaneity. I never appreciated it when I had it. I never actually took advantage of it ever before. I miss someone saying, "Get dressed, we're going out..." or even, "...no, you head out to the store alone, I've got this...". That's where my 'control-freak' button kicks in. It's cleverly hidden behind my left ear. Not because I enjoy having it, it's necessary for survival. For me to do anything alone, I have to not only plan ahead, make phone calls, try not to sound too needy, and line up everything else in this house so that I can leave seamlessly...and...I hate that. I hate asking for help (I know, this is constantly said, but really I need to wear a sign).  I hate that I can't just slip out and have some alone time. I hate that by the time I actually get out of the house, my brain has already checked out DAYS before. I hate that I might be giving my kids the subliminal message that at times I can't handle...life.

In a perfect world, I'd be independently wealthy. Care.com would actually find someone to help me babysit my kids one day a week. In a perfect world, I wouldn't feel like someone needing a PRISON BREAK...In a perfect world I could handle all of this, well, better. I feel pretty empowered by what I have mastered so far in this new life of ours. I have figured out how to get stuff done, not like I would have done them before, but oh well. My house is 'clean', my kids are fed, the laundry is still getting done. I keep thinking that with more time under my belt, I'll figure out the "getting out of the house" business...you know, before I'm mentally squealing the tires out of my driveway in my minivan screaming FREEDOM!!!

...where June Cleaver meets Mommy Dearest..

Snow. Snow. Fevers. Tantrums. Cleaning. Popcorn. Movies. Snow...honestly, I'm not like the rest. I don't mind the snow days we have been having. I'm lazy I suppose. I'm grateful not have to leave my house. It's a verified reason to wear your P.J.s all day long, sport some rockin' bed head, and basically be slovenly...at least for a little while.

So, with snow days and sick kids a bound a very rare occurrence happened the other day...I took a nap. Doesn't sound earth shattering but that's how rare it is here. While asleep, I had this very real dream, where I was speaking to someone I know on social media, but have never actually met. She asked me a question that so fired me up! It's a harmless question really, but at times when asked, it does feel as if it's loaded. I was sitting across from this girl and she asked me, "So, what do you do?".

Now, in the moment, I became slightly dictator-like in answering the question. I will preface this by saying, I believe I was born into the wrong era. One lone light shone on me, and the questioner far back on the other side of the room. I felt as though I was answering this question how I've wanted to answer it the millions of other times I've been asked, but chickened out. I was answering it with not myself only in mind, but for the millions of other women who also have to answer this question. Not sure why it enrages me, perhaps the frequent response to my answer is what triggers it...usually some indication that I don't have a 'real job'....that's where June Cleaver meets Mommy Dearest...

I answered the question in such a way that doesn't elude to the fact that I'm so well to do that I can stay home with/for my kids. I answered it in a way that right now, I make wise choices, follow a budget, go without luxuries, and still get to be home with my kids. I answered it in a way that didn't portray me as a mother when I started my time nine years ago. Rather a mother for  2+4+8+9 years...because in reality that's how you should add up the accomplishments of a mother...and you've lived to tell the tale. I answered the question, making sure to include that if I did work outside the home, I'd be handing a paycheck over to someone else. That someone else was also rewarded by seeing all the milestones that I missed out on for a job that wasn't as important to me...at least as important as the job I'm doing now. I am proud to know mothers that work outside the home. I marvel at their dedication to something they love to do as well as being a mother...I just haven't found it yet. I know this bubble I live in will very soon become more expensive to live comfortably in...

So, I answered the question, of this woman whom I've never met face to face. Again, not really understanding this dream, where it came from or how it came to be...other than maybe being reminded to keep answering in the way that I did, as long as I can...My answer was very simply and to the point,  "...oh, I'm a stay at home Mom..." and then I woke up.

...un-scactioned nudist colony...

Most days in my house aren't really unlike that of any other house...with the exception of maybe the volume, high levels of drama, and well today...nudity. While everyday isn't going to look like the idyllic notion that you might project to others that it is. There are those days when you look around and think...what the hell is going on in here today?

It's payback really. I went out with friends last night. It was the first time in nearly two weeks that I had been out of the house without children. The earnings of those days start early, and at some point you look at the clock and think, how many hours until the babysitter gets here?! I love my kids, with every ounce that I am. However, getting out, being with adults...it's heady. It's this experience that seriously is more than just getting away from my house, it's an escape from worries, drama, and debates.

So, that being said...today, well, it was a nice cosmic wedgie, reminding me that , "...hey, guess what? this is your life..." Like a cold splash of water to wake you up? Yeah, mine started with a naked toddler, who decided to start potty training himself, in his crib. He was naked as the day he was born, so very proud telling me what he did, and that indeed these were his 'frank-n-beans' pointing downward. That's a lot to take in at 6:01 in the morning. Little did I know, that we now live in an un-sanctioned nudist colony...I just kept finding him, nude. Not all laid out or running through the house...going through the video cabinet, reading books, talking to his Elmo doll. Seemingly as if, he didn't even notice the slight breeze he was getting. And with every naked adventure, came the gift of bodily fluid. At one point I actually asked Abe, "...do you think it would be wrong to duct tape his clothes on him?" 'Cause you know, asking an 8 year old that kind of stuff makes sense...I needed feedback I guess.

There were fist fights, arguments, declarations of 'you're the meanest brother ever' or 'you wish'...it was making me twitch. The drama queen who sat for 68 minutes at the dinner table refusing to eat one sugar snap pea. Finally, when I told her that her time was up, she succumbed. Afterward, she marched through the house so proud of herself, as if she'd just taken down the CRACKEN. Meanwhile, headgear mysteriously broke...at this point, I look at the Talls smiles, and it's like a cartoon, all I see are dollar signs. So, it looks like we'll be loitering in the office of Dr. Paul Miller, DDS within the next few days...

I love my kids. I'm grateful to be their mother. I'm blessed to have the challenge of being their parent. While it's a challenge, I'm fortunate to stay with the ones who are still at home for now. I'm gratified at the end of the day that we all survived to do it all over again tomorrow. I at one point today, I looked out my kitchen window and thought...so, did you have fun last night?...two more weeks until it happens again.

...TODAY'S THE DAY I GO OFF...

New adventures. New year. New evaluation of your life...you see it everywhere. Everyone starts the year hearing/seeing that this is the time of year to become what you've always dreamed of. This is the fresh new start that you deserve. It's every where from the television programs you watch to the advertising you subliminally listen to. The fact is...it's difficult task, that's why in June you aren't as inundated with such messages, as most have either given up or moved on to the next task at hand.

The other night I had to write a short biography of myself. It seems pretty self explanatory...what you've done, where you've done it. Honestly, I dreaded it more that seeing the gynecologist. I have no problem telling the exploits of my children, or giving my opinion on something. Writing about myself, I was stumped. I went back to what I learned in high school writing: just the facts. The fact is, my life has been what it has based on the experiences I've had, not on the jobs I've held or the promotions I've been given...

The thought of "...it's a quarter past I don't know what the hell I'm doing" crosses my mind more than three times a week. After mentioning this out loud earlier this week when my friend April was here, she looked at me straight in the eyes. Meanwhile Oscar had walked into the room. And while patting him on the back, as he was reaching over her for some snacks she said, "...but look how well they have turned out". Oscar sort of looked at her, snorted and walked away. Cut to April and I dying laughing...

Last spring I was accused of being a witch, as I taught above mentioned seriously organized friend how to fold a fitted sheet. She was astonished and had never seen it before. I was on cloud nine, thinking I might know something about the world...then realized such accomplishments weren't resume worthy. Fact of the matter is, in my overly verbal brain, I have little to nothing that I could actually put on a resume...unless throwing a cocktail party is now a section on a resume in the new millennium. My skill set is skewed for either an elderly companion or someone likely to join a cult.

While April was visiting, she walked me through a few things I needed to set up online. With every click of the laptop, I felt like some 80 year old, who had never used a computer before. I kept apologizing for acting like such a dolt. To which she said, "...why would you know how to do any of this? It's not in your daily skill set...I do it everyday." She held my hand setting up author pages, twitter accounts (still don't know what the hell I'm doing), and understanding why certain passwords might get me flagged in some bizarre way...I like creative passwords, but my brain is lacking it's vital dose of gingko biloba...

I'm three days into 2014, and I'm tired of people showing me the 'skinny version' of a recipe. I want more things on sale that yogurt. I'm stubborn enough to want to make those 'resolutions' later in the year, when the sight of my backside in a swim suit terrifies me properly. In the meantime I plan to look at some opportunities I have been given. While my job for the last 9 years has been motherhood, and at times it's seriously two minutes from being chaos here daily. Today I actually heard Nora exclaim, "...TODAY'S THE DAY I GO OFF!!". Even though that is my nearly everyday,  I'm grateful everyday that I have done things the way I have. Now, it seems time to change things up a bit, put on another hat, get out of non-yoga-practicing-yoga-pants and look at what else life has to offer. Take in every second of new opportunities, learn from them and about myself. Happy 2014!

What the what?

...sometimes, I catch myself...sometimes, I actually have to remind myself...I live in a hilarious, ironic world, where I'm not much taller than those who I am in charge of...I have to laugh at the notion that I'm the grown-up.What sort of twisted world is it, that I am the one in charge of these gaggle of blue-eyed 'charmers'? It's as if I was attempting to step off an elevator at the wrong floor. Everyone I'm with subtly saying, "...um, chick, this is the wrong floor...you couldn't possibly be in charge of those kids..."

I was discussing with Oscar an issue he had had at school. He began to try to 'set me straight' on the issue. I kept calm and while I didn't appreciate his tone, it didn't make me jump from a 2 to a 10 on the Mommy Dearest Scale...so I didn't think anything of it. All of the sudden, Abe comes into the room and gets right into Oscar's eyes and says rather sternly, "...that woman has a college degree...she puts a roof over your head and food on your table...you will can it, and listen to her because she is your mother...". Then Abe turned around, and walked out the room. What the what?...I got off at the wrong floor?

I am an unlikely parent. My views, while shaped by the experiences I have been lucky enough to have, are unlike that of most parents, or even my own. I believe that I am the most important example for these kids, if they end up train wrecks- I might have had something to do with it. But, their lives will be further shaped by the choices/decisions they make. I always cringe when I hear kids talking about going to college. I value a college degree, please do not misunderstand me. However, who knows what they want to do for the rest of their lives, with a $15,000 a year price tag until they figure it out, at 18? I don't feel like every kid should go directly to college, if they even should at all. I encourage my kids to go to a trade school first...electricians, plumbers, barbers...I can't do any of those things.

In the van the other day, Nora started one of her MANY talking points in the 13 mile excursion that we take once or twice a week. That day's talking points where: Hibernation, why bother? Why does red mean stop and green mean go? Did I know that she knew how to play the bass guitar? Why isn't my favorite animal and elephant like her since we are related? Lastly, she finished with a rousing discussion about how she really didn't know what she was going to be when she grew up...there were so many choices. I told her that she didn't have to really decide today, and that she should just enjoy being 4 years old. She then says to me, "...so, what are you going to be when you grow up?....or is this Mom thing probably it?"...speechless.

I'm not the most conventional woman. I never really 'sought out' a career. I never really felt the need to become a goal setting employee. I entered the adult world, not really knowing what I wanted to do other than be a mom. Instead of fitting my kids into my career life, they became my career. I feel like I did the important things first. Now, I do realize I live a charmed life. This stay-at-home-life won't be lasting too much longer. But, I'm grateful that I made the choices that I have, not only for myself but also for my kids sake. The 28 year old me, would have never imagined the world in which the nearly 38 year old me resides. Ironically, I wouldn't want to be 28 again. Thankfully, with age comes some knowledge of not only who you are, but what you are capable of. I have managed to keep four rowdy blue-eyed charmers alive as the 'adult in the house'. My aspirations become all that more important...I keep learning from them.