The Compliment

1d6ef9da0663b932627fdf1c74e9868eThe other day I had a fellow Mom tell me she struggles sometime with the craziness of mom world and that she thought I was always so put together and that I seemed like I had this whole Mom thing down.

As she was talking I would like to give you a rundown of my thoughts:

“Is she serious? She knows who she is talking to right? As of this moment I am trying to remember if I brushed my teeth this morning or if I left the straightener on and my house is burning down as we speak. My kids are currently wearing hats, not because it is a cute thing to put on them, but because I couldn’t get them to let me brush their hair. Speaking of hair, this morning I threw baby powder in my hair because I haven’t showered in three days and I needed to hide the grease. And to top it all off, my children, as per usual, are wearing mismatched socks.

Shoot, I can’t even match my own socks who are we kidding?

I mean I lock my kids in my room while I get ready because I am afraid of them falling down thehousework-or-fire_large stairs. But the result of this brilliant idea is having them throw my makeup in the toilet, chuck all of my cupboard items out of the drawers, and pretty much destroy my room. And then, because I am so exasperated, I just take the kids and leave without cleaning up the mess they made.

Does she know I am wearing toilet mascara?

Also, yesterday at the gym I had to go get an employee to break out the lock cutters because I absent mindedly threw my keys in my locker and then proceeded to lock said locker.

I have it all together? What?”

You know what the funny thing is my friends? I always thought she had it all together.

After I got through the torrential downpour of thoughts about how she was so wrong, I thought about how even through all the craziness, I really do enjoy being a mom. I really do love my kids. I mean I keep them alive and loved right? Apparently love really does cover a multitude of sins.

So in the end, instead of being so hard on myself, I decided to be gracious, say thank you, and compliment her on all the positive things I think about her. Because through all the craziness, I know she really loves her kids and being a Mom too. She is a good mom. And you know what,  I am a good Mom too.

Maybe that is just what we all need.

To accept and receive the compliments given to us… To tell others that they are doing a great job… To give ourselves a little grace…. And to just laugh at the craziness of life.

From now on if I think something nice about someone, I am going to tell them. Because maybe they will be as shocked as I was, and maybe it will brighten their day. So no I don’t really think I have it all together, but thank you fellow Mom for making me feel like I am doing something right. I will make sure to pay that compliment forward.

Tales from Sick Season

I have been absent due to sickness. The plague. Sick season this year has not been kind. My life has been a whirl of fevers, sleepless nights, lukewarm baths, coughs, and humidifiers. I have war stories. Stories of survival. Like the day I decided it was time to go to the doctor (again). MjAxMi05ZWIyYzlkZmYwYTRjZTVm

Tay and I had been up what felt like a month with the kids. Calming coughing babies, bringing down fevers, it had been rough. But one morning Holden started to cough so bad he couldn’t breathe (croup), and Mommy about had a mental breakdown. It was time to go back to the doctor.

Last time we went (2 weeks before), it was for a week of high fevers for Hudsy… who was better by the appointment… only to give his brother his sickness AFTER the appointment.

Sidenote: Why are kids never that sick when it comes time to go to the doctor? Does Mommy having to fork over the copay make a child magically feel better? I can’t count how many times I have called in with a sick baby only to show up with a bouncing, giggling child. Maybe next time I will just gather my children…  take $50… flush it down the toilet… and then see if they feel better. But I digress.

So I made the appointment. I swept my hair up in a bun. Wiped some unidentified (ignorance is bliss) smears off my shirt. Dug in the laundry basket for a pair of yoga pants. And attempted to compose myself.

As for my children, I left them both in footie pajamas. Yes, even the 2 1/2 year old. Holden is obsessed with his footie pajamas. He almost had a meltdown when I tried to put shoes on him, and I was too tired to care. So whatever, footie pajamas won.

(For those of you who do not know what a “footie” pajama is, it is a one piece outfit that has built in socks… with one zip your child is completely dressed.)

I threw both boys into the car and headed off to the appointment. Chaos ensued.

First, I went to the wrong office. This was a new doctor and stinking google maps took me to the office she had in 1975. I got the kids out of their carseats and walked around the medical center for nothing.

I then realized that my phone was dying. I had moments before radio silence. So in a panic I burst into the nearest medical office and begged to use their phone before all was lost. Luckily, I found out that my doctor’s office was in the next building over, but this still required me to strap the kiddos in again. So much for being early… or even on time.

When I arrived at the correct building, I rushed to get the kids out, but something was terribly wrong.

The lower half of Holden’s body was completely soaked.

Did he spill his sippy cup?



It was not his sippy cup.

The kid had peed through his diaper and pants in less than an hour.

Hydrate sick kid? Check.

Now the problem was that I had no clothes for him. He is 2 1/2. I thought we were past having to bring an extra pair of clothes everywhere. Furthermore, I had no shoes because, well, he was in footie pajamas.

He could not go in naked, and I couldn’t exactly take him in drenched in pee… Hello social services… so what was a Mom to do?

I looked at my watch and furiously tore through the car looking for any clothing I could find. I found a pair of Hudson’s 6 month shorts and a nice yellow onesie to match. That’ll do.

So picture this.

A doctor’s office full of sick children and parents. So many that they spill out into the hallway. And in walks a frazzled mother with two boys on her hips… one child is frantically trying to escape her grasp… poor thing… and then you look at the other. She sets this one down before she collapses. He is barefoot, wearing short shorts, and a yellow onesie with the button end sticking out. Hmm.

She takes out crumpled papers from her purse to give to the nurse.

You think to yourself, “Well at least she came somewhat prepared.”

And then you hear it.

“I filled these out at home. I hope it is ok that there are coffee stains all over them.”

If that doesn’t say it all, I don’t know what does.



What Day Is It?

Quotation-Tina-Fey-mom-happy-Meetville-Quotes-271152I am not going to lie. I feel tired. I don’t know why I am tired, but I am tired. It feels like everything I do is exhausting. Between the future mechanic toddler who is determined to run in the parking lot and touch every tire rim, truck, and “metersicle” in the vicinity, and a infant who, like all infants, just wants to be held, nursed, and cuddled, I find that my energy tank gets emptied pretty early in the day.

I feel like part of my day is spent in a daze. I thought I was forgetful before children, but I really have reached a whole new level of absent minded-ness.

The other day I was at BJ’s restaurant and the waiter asked if anyone owned a red Charger. I own a red Charger. Apparently I had left my keys sitting on top of my car. I had presented the perfect opportunity for someone to live out their “Grand Theft Auto” dreams. Thankfully someone brought them into the restaurant instead of driving off with my car. The funny thing is the first thing I thought of was that if my car was stolen, my expensive carseats, baby carrier, and double stroller, would be gone. Take the car, but leave my ridiculously expensive baby items!

I can not even remember the last time I bathed the infant. The toddler gets a bath every day because I use the bathtub as a baby sitter, but I can never remember when the baby was washed last. I now have to schedule a day to give him a bath because I am afraid two weeks may be too long to go without one.  I schedule everything on my calendar now. It is the only way I can remember to do things. I have little symbols I put on the calendar because I am embarrassed about some of the things I have to schedule.

Pretty soon I will probably forget what my calendar symbols mean and the baby will start to look like Pig Pen from the Peanuts comics.

There is nothing like a trip to the doctor for a well baby check up to remind me that I may be losing it. When my doctor asks how many diapers the baby goes through or how many times he eats, I look at the toddler as if he can help me remember, and then throw out an answer when my brain starts to hurt too much.sleeping-mom1

I have no idea when my little guy released himself last. I can not even remember what day it is… some days I do not even know what year it is.

I graduated with my BA in three years, but somehow I struggle to keep my life organized with two kids.

I now understand why when my Mom yelled for one of us four kids she sometimes had to say all four names before she got the right name. I get you Mom. I get you.

By the way, would you like to watch your beautiful grandchildren while I sleep?


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