...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.

Nature or Nurture...

A couple of years ago I heard a first time dad sort of half question how I do things in this house. He uttered a phrase that, to this day, sends a chill down my spine…”That’s fine, but is it nature or nurture?” Wait…WHAT? Who the hell are you to question the manner I run my house or that I was blessed with one child who willingly says to me, “I’m ready to go to bed.” I have never forgotten that statement and at times I want to find him (actually hunt him down) and ask him how his parenting is going. I would utter the fact that parenting, or ADULTING for that matter sucks at times. How I handle it, or anyone for that matter is relative and considering I haven’t yet picked my kid up from the county lock up, I say I’m winning! In the meantime, these are the things that I ponder on a daily basis. I’ll let you decide if they are nature or nurture…enjoy.

That look my cat gives me mid-day, when I walk into my room and find her laying on the bed. It’s a look that says, “That’s nice…would you please leave, I’m trying to sleep…”

The fact that my four year old MUST painstakingly remove all toe jam that he has before entering the shower, but cannot wipe the toilet seat when he pees all over it.

The attention to hair, second only to what Vidal Sassoon must have dealt with on a daily basis, but yet has to be reminded that deodorant is not an option.

The point that someone has to say, ever, do not crane kick your sister.

The moment your kids hear a song, and it is “their JAM!!!”

The great detail someone will put into a paper sweater for a stuffed animal, but loses all creative ability when faced with writing a thank you note.

The fact that you hear one child call another a control freak…you don’t know if you should be terrified or proud.

The fact that someone feels the need to dramatically fart.

That moment you catch yourself counting down to a night out, knowing that there will be nothing short of an apocalypse you will have to endure in the meantime.

The fact that you possibly wash and dry more Kleenex in the laundry than is actually used to blow a nose.

The ability to repeat any given thing you have said AT THE WRONG TIME but has no recollection of being told to brush their teeth.

The point where you no longer care what your Tupperware cupboard looks like, but become completely anal retentive to if there is toothpaste in the sink.

The fact that you know your 4 year old will leave more toothpaste in the sink than he ever got in his mouth.

The moment you realize the cat is STILL NAPPING…and become jealous.

The ability to justify going to a wholesale store at lunch time either for the $1.50 hotdog or the free samples to feed your kids.

The fact that my 4 year old could write his own chapter in the book The Art of the Deal.

The point where you are about to tell one kid to stop picking on their sister, and her youngest brother chimes in with, “You guys be quiet, she’s a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!”

The point when one child appreciates another one’s talent, and actually says it to their face.

The moment when you realize that a magazine has an article on achieving the perfect “O” and you know the safest place for it is in the trashcan.

Having friends with no kids, not only because they are the breath of what your life once was, but further because they see all the things in your kids that you take for granted.

The fact that you know where your kids socks are but have no idea where your own have hidden.

The notion of a sticky residue on your floor, will always, ALWAYS be claimed by no one.

The point of the day when everyone is in bed, you survived another 18 hour day, you really just want to get in bed and watch TV and you lock the cat out of your room.

 

The take away from this is simple...Life is tough but so are you...and cats sometimes stink.

...the rookie mistake...

Snuggled under a blanket on the couch with Atticus. He turns to me  and says something, putting his head on my shoulder. I speak his language, but the kid is hard to decipher. To the untrained ear it sounds like, "...blah, blah, blah..." I turned to him and said, "...did you just say you're so pretty?" He looks at me and plain as day he says, "...No, I said I have a boogie. See?" Rookie mistake, right?

All day long the phrase has been in my head. So, to end the evening like I did wasn't happenstance. It got me thinking of the 'rookie mistakes'. They are at times hard lessons to learn, and at times they are possibly our greatest blessings in disguise. They can happen at any time, bouncing in to secretly shape and form who we are or who we will become. I think about the 'rookie mistake' I made sitting next to a guy at the first frat party I ever went to...it wasn't a mistake. It was my fortune yet to be unearthed. Four kids later, I'm grateful for that frat party, and the After Shock that was being consumed by some. That rookie move shaped who I was in an instant, and I am forever in his debt.

Being overly verbal, rookie mistake? Maybe, but I can carry on a conversation with all of my kids, even the one I only understand. They get a joke, and can deliver a punch line...If that's wrong, I don't want to be right. New found rookie mistake? Grounding two boys might actually be as much punishment for me as it is for them. I'm out numbered 24 hours a day, how would I have known? We are in the final stretch of said punishment, the light is glimmering at the end of the tunnel. While they have driven me NUTS, I feel like they have truly learned a lesson. So, we'll call it a draw.

Catering to my kids whims? Rookie mistake. I think I have hidden under the guise of 'choose your battles, or just avoid them completely'. I'm here to tell you, that's bull shit, and I now know it. I have created a diva of a monster, who has literally been quoted saying, "...I cannot eat peas (or anything green), they make me shiver..." Her mini-cohort also has an arsenal of tricks. The tiny terrorist won't eat, throws a fit, telling you he's leaving the table. But, if you completely ignore him, he bores himself into eating. Who's rookie mistake is that? (insert evil laugh here)

Then there comes the trinity of rookie mistakes that every parent makes. I'm no different, and they wouldn't matter at all if I wasn't doing this alone. So, these are named ÜBER ROOKIE MISTAKES. Mine are as follows: Not asking for help. Freaking out (on myself and my kids). Over planning, and being scared to meander off said plan. I've been told my house could possibly resemble a Nazi camp...not proud of that. Now, like I said, these aren't really that big of a deal...but, when you are the only drinking age adult in the house? They can add up QUICK. Here is where the "Mental Jenga" comes into play, and sometimes I just don't have it in me. Stock up on the Ginkgo Biloba and hope for the best?

Putting myself out there, after losing Jason, rookie mistake? Hardly. I have been reminded of some of my greatest friendships from 20 years. Most importantly how very lucky I am and  how very valuable they are. I have been so very blessed to have new friendships. Some people I've known, some I have met out of my new circumstances. Letting these people in who love me and all of my flaws, and at times can even toast them! I'm grateful to all of the above who have reminded me of not only who I can be, but what they see in me.

Lastly, the start of blog writing, rookie mistake? What started out as just a way to not seek therapy or get a 'club card' at a liquor store, has become a great release. I did however make a rookie mistake taking the first offer to get it published. It was a scary concept, thinking this may be my only chance. This was on my bucket list. And when it fell through, it was bitter sweet. However, it forced me to go back and read...and edit...and remember. Remember what I've learned. Realize how much we have all grown. And finally, know that even a rookie mistake can be the beginning of something adventurous...

...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.