Far better than any mirror. If you want to see the Real You, have a kid.

Only your own kids will be the authentic reflections of yourself.  No amount of natural sunlight or magnified mirrors could equate to the accurate reflection of oneself that one’s own offspring offer up.

  

We all feel we’ve got a pretty good grasp on “Who we are”, probably.  For instance, if asked about my personal traits, I might describe myself as generous, humorous, and passionate.  (There are more adjectives I could throw out there, but we’ll keep it short and positive.)  I feel I’m a pretty good judge of who I am, and how others perceive me.  But, having kids has made me realize just how wrong I may have been all these years.  It’s been a real eye opener to see through my children just how I possibly look and sound to the outside world.

For starters, I must use my hands a whole LOT during verbal communication.  This is a typical behavior for someone of Italian decent, but it wasn’t so noticeable to me until I began to see just how much my son throws his skinny little arms up and tosses his hands about like he’s whippin’ around a pizza dough when speaking.  Because his gestures are so all over the place, I’ve become way more cognisant of my own nonverbal communications.  If he’s this extravagant with his gestures, and I can see he must have learned it from me, then certainly I can stand to dial it back a bit.  (“Work in progress”.  Add that to the list of ways I’d also describe me.)  And, so began my journey to knowing myself on a different level.  So began the beginning of my new “self-analysis”…..

Have you ever really paid attention to how many words you overuse?  People often have a go-to phrase or word that they use frequently, like “Wow”, or “Oh my god!”, or “that’s crazy”.  Well, apparently, I say “that’s annoying” A LOT.  I also seriously overuse the word “seriously”.  If I had a nickel for every time my kids say to one another “that’s annoying”, “you’re annoying me”, and “seriously!?!?”, I’d seriously have a shit load of nickels!  I used to think that I had a pretty extended vocabulary and have always made a conscious effort to grow my word bank on a regular basis.  So to find out that I am not as articulate as I’d once perceived myself to be was a bit disappointing.  Although it’s a tad hard to admit, it’s right in my face on a regular basis so there’s really no denying that they’ve learned this stuff from their mama.  And if I’m this tired of hearing them utter those words, well gosh- other people have got to be at least minimally bugged by my saying them so much.  And, just as any good sitcom would have it- right on cue, another reminder of an annoying and too-often-spoken saying of mine has just manifested, courtesy of my children.  

At this very moment, my convenient sons brought to mind yet another phrase I could use some serious scaling back on: While playing a Power Rangers game on their computer in the other room, I hear one say to the other “turn it up, all the way”.  The multi-tasking mom within me doesn’t skip a beat while typing away here on this trusty old laptop and “No way, José!” I yell to them.  No. Way. José.   Yeah, I really just said that.  Really now…  Who the hell came up with that one?  AND, when the hell did I become so corny!?  I’m ashamed that my cool factor has plummeted so far that this is a phrase I’ve now got to literally train myself to omit from my vocabulary.  You know when I first realized that I even say this phrase at all?  Last Spring, at my oldest boy’s “Mommy and Me Polite Party” for Pre-K.  As the teacher pleasantly read a story about party etiquette and politeness, she polled the children on the right and wrong ways for the story’s animal characters to behave.  My son yelled out “No way, José!” each time the other kids answered with a simple “no”.  I can recall thinking to myself, “Holy crap- why is he saying this?”  There was some light giggling at him; as in, “Awe how cute” from the other mothers.  But inside I was kind of mortified and asking myself, “How often do I say this to the kid?”  Later that evening, I caught myself uttering the same phrase.  How lame.  I mean, seriously, what a lame saying…. Who says that?  (smh)  Welp….  Me.  Obviously.  And apparently, A LOT.  (Note to self, find cooler expressions to utter than something involving some unknown Spanish dude’s name.) 

It’s not all bad, though.  I’m pleased to report that I’ve projected some pretty fine words and ways onto these offspring of mine.  I’ve come to realize that I’m quite the Polite Polly, through them.  Because of my overuse in “thank you’s”, “Pleases” and “Excuse me’s”, my little guys are pretty widely known as two respectful lil dudes.  I’ve learned about myself that I value respect a whole lot, and it’s a proud moment for the hubs and I when our children are complimented on their polite manners.  They’re also very considerate of others and generous with their help and with their toys.  Something I’m confident that I’d instilled in them through not just instruction, but with my own actions in helping friends and through volunteer work.

Yes.  No matter how honest your family or friends may be, no one can relay to you the ways you authentically present yourself to the world better than your kids.  By emulating the first teachers they have, their parents, you are privy to exact attitudes, mannerisms, and words that you’ve been unintentionally instilling into them, day after day.  Many individuals describe children as sponges.  Perhaps, to some extent, this is true.  For me, my sons are more like mirrors.  Soaking in the true essence of me, and reflecting it right back at me: Ugly, Lovely or indifferent.

These little “Reflections” don’t have a clue that they’re actually helping teach me about bettering myself, or that they help navigate the way I parent them as well.  Every time I hear them sigh loudly out of aggravation and frustration, I am made ever more aware of my own issues with impatience.  And I work a little harder to demonstrate to them, and me, that a little patience and understanding go a long way.  And whenever I see them helping a friend on the play ground, or assist one another in cleaning up their crayons, I’m reminded about how important it is to be cooperative and there for others.

These two boys are actually a pair of mirrors this sleep deprived and disheveled mom won’t be avoiding any time soon.  That’s for certain.

Things I Miss......

Things I miss.....

Time.  (Time to ponder, time to read, to paint my nails, blow dry my hair, clean, shop, plan…)

Writing.  Writing clears my mind, calms my soul, and rejuvenates my spirit.  (Getting thoughts onto paper, or computer, happens so much less now.)

Creating.  (Interior design, scrapbooking, poetry, experimenting with styling.)

My pre-kids body (Looking at old pictures my mother’s been uploading to her facebook account can be frustrating.  But not even so much because I’m pining away for that old physique.  It’s really because I realize now that during the times some of the best pictures were taken of me,  I was the most judgmental and critical of my outward appearance.  So sad how this is just another way that youth is wasted on the young.  I really should have appreciated what I had, and been comfortable in my skin.)

My pre-kids mind (well, parts of it, crazy enough it’s actually gotten better in a myriad of ways.)

Free time (Different from just "time" in general.  Free time, empty minutes with which I haven't a clue what to do with, nor do I care how I fill it because "there's more where that came from!".  What in the world DID I do before kids?? No, seriously?)

The ability to purchase just about anything without thinking twice.  (I can recall days of marathon mall shopping, breezing through stores while tossing item upon item onto my arm without so much as glancing at the price tags … or even having to try the garmets on.  Or checking my watch to make sure I wasn’t there for too long.)

The carefree nature that comes with having no one who depends on you, but you.

Having virtually no one else to consider but my own selfish needs and desires.

The ability to pick up and go on a whim with little to no preparation or planning.

First’s butterflies.  And experiencing different kinds of passion, intellect, and men whenever I so desired.  (Not that I ‘got around’ too much.  I’m just saying…  The option was there.)

Girl time.  The gab fests, the chick flicks, the shopping sprees, the beach weekends, and “make overs”.  All without being interrupted a thousand times over by the demanding offspring of mine or my gal pals' and without having to plan this ladies only fest far in advance.

Rest.  Sleeping in.  Noontime naps.  Dozing off during reruns of Will and Grace sporadically.  All gone now.

But what I’ve gained is hands down incomparable. 

Love for life.  (I could stop right here.)

The monumental task of instilling values, compassion, and a love of life into two flawless new human beings.  (Because, while brain wracking at times, it’s an appreciated responsibility and the hugest privilege to have.)

The daily opportunity of learning some of life’s greatest lessons….  From children.  And when least expected.  

Unconditional love.  Truly.  Love- with NO conditions.  (Isn’t that what everyone’s looking for in life?)

Finding out that the heart could have feelings so vulnerable, so full of adoration, and drenched with a love so deep it feels as if it could burst wide open.  Daily.  (I mean, who knew the heart was capable of experiencing these emotions before kids enter the picture?  It is AMAZING!)

A new sense of “drive” in myself- because nothing I do is for myself any longer.  Nothing.  (They inspire me, they encourage me, they light a fire in me when before only a mere tiny flame existed that slightly flickered and for mostly the wrong reasons, ie competitiveness and self absorption.)

I could absolutely add more.  But I’ve covered enough right here….

I wrote this list because it’s so easy for me to fall into Debbie Downer mode sometimes or even have moments of nostalgia of days gone by.  I am faced with tremendous responsibility for these lives I created, and to be honest that can be overwhelming and stressful to where migraines and stomach ulcers occur.  Sometimes it’s as if I’ve got sunglasses super glued to my face, making it impossible to find the bright side.  Worry is the name of the game most days.  (“Will my child be accepted into this great school we applied to?”…  “When will our home finally sell?”).  Much different than the old pre-kids me who pondered life’s great queries such as, “Which movie should I check out this weekend?”    And, “Which shade of OPI do I pick at the nail salon this time, Your Villa or Mine Coral or I’m Really Not a Waitress Red”?)

 If single and childless me fails, it’s an entirely different beast than if married, mother me fails.  Now, when I fail- I’m failing them.  The choices I make weigh much more heavily on my mind.  The beautiful, smart, energetic, wonder-filled, blissfully happy, loving and adoring sons of mine are subject to deal with the consequences of my choices as well as me.  If I fuck up, they have to deal with the consequences either directly or indirectly (my bad mood.)  If I do something that puts them in distress, in a situation that is not conducive to their best interests, or sets them back from being in a place that fosters their unique qualities and opportunities- it’s devastating to me.  (Yes, I can be dramatic.)  The mental pressure translates to physical ailments at times.  And it's ever so unpleasant.

I knew that everything would change when I peed on that stick the afternoon of April 27^th 2006.   But no matter how many books I read, or how many TLC “A Baby Story” shows I watched- nothing came close to preparing me for the realities of being a mother.  The world is vast in information about birthing a baby, but what happens forevermore afterwards is all on you to figure out.  And what I've come to know is nothing I'd ever contemplated during those nine months of pregnancy.  

I’ve changed in countless ways.  What I once saw as strength, conviction or gumption before, I now understand to be immaturity, stubbornness, and foolish pride that I had.  I probably would have walked away from my relationship with their father a hundred times over the way I walked away from every man before him, if not for him being Their Father.  I’d most likely still be a member of our old church and religion, because I was too lazy to force myself to look at it without my blinders on, and instead stubbornly defended it to anyone who questioned it because I was immature and lacked a real reason to go on a quest for truth.  I volunteer now, because I’m compelled to be a good example for the kids, above other reasons I have.  I’ve omitted people from my life who are not in line with my values, and I’m much more cautious as to whom I allow in my life- because they’re also in my children’s lives.  I’m a self proclaimed “cat person”, yet now have the most lovable and cute dog that I can’t get enough of, and who can’t get enough of me.  All because the boys wanted a pet pup and I’d do just about anything to see them smile.  I’ve had much practice in honing the art of holding my tongue, and in knowing when to stand up for my convictions and demand respect now that I’m a mother.  The changes keep happening as I evolve as a woman with children and a spouse.  The experiences, all brought on by the birth of my sons and my marriage with their father, have shaped me into a much more authentic and careful person.  And even more exciting, is that as they continue to grow- I grow right along with them.

 

In the end, it helps to tick off the impossibly fortunate aspects of your life.  Corny as it may seem, I feel better already.  I’ve got a lot to stress about, sure.  But I’ve got more to celebrate.  The “bright side” is lookin’ pretty darn bright.  Maybe today I'll put on those figurative sunglasses for another reason- our future together is so bright is blinding! Thanks, Julian and Lucas.  You fellows keep me on my toes, make life worth living, and brighten up even the darkest nights. And thanks to my sweet hubby.  You do a pretty good job with those things, yourself. ;-)

“I brought children into this dark world because it needed the light that only a child can bring.” ~Liz Armbruster

Me and my Three Pairs of Blue

Today I'm posting a Poem about the three loves of my life: My husband and our two sons.

I wrote this quite a while back- (Friday, January 30, 2009 at 1:50am to be exact).

 

I've been especially sentimental and emotional lately.  My youngest just turned the ripe old age of four.  His bother, also four, will be the Big 5 Years Old next month.  I can remember things about my own fifth birthday.  That means, he's most definitely not a baby any longer.  He'll have actual, legitimate memories of this time in his life now.  He's a full fledged, impressively functioning, human being (as is his wiser-than-his-years little bro). 

 

With the changing of Summer to Fall, I always feel a bittersweet ache in my heart.  It's the time of year that brings with it the most family-centered holidays, and it's also the time of year my first niece was born.  A year later, my own first child was born, and the following year- my second.  To sum it up:  I turn into one big emotional mush ball each Autumn.

 

It's a reminder of such truly magnificent times in my life.  But it's also a very pivotal reminder of how quickly time is passing by.  A part of me wishes time would slow, just a bit.  There are all of these mini-milestones taking place nowadays that are proving much harder to accept than I would have thought.  Just yesterday, I gave myself a minor heart attack when my firstborn rode on a school bus for the very first to his very first field trip.  It was so fascinating and wonderful for him to experience.  I was ecstatic for him.  Truly.  But for me, it involved a sleepless night before, and terrible chest and stomach pains the day of.  I tortured myself with visions of him wondering off in a pumpkin patch somewhere and not making it back, or of an accident happening in the extreme fog we experienced yesterday morning with this stranger school bus driver and the dimwits on the road without headlights on.  The worry was so physically exhausting that I felt fatigued in a way I was not accustomed to.  Afterwards I couldn't squeeze and kiss the boy enough.  The relief that washed over me cannot be described in words, the moment I saw his bright smiling face come around that corner at Pre-K yesterday afternoon.  No one drives my babies.  No one baby sits my babies (other than my mom, really...).  It's me and them.  For all of their lives.  Things like this field trip are all foreshadowing what's to come.  The boys will continue to take more and more steps away from me, with their own two feet.  I'm so proud of them, and their independent nature.  But I cannot help my need to be there with them... for them....  It's such a struggle to put my trust in others that they're looking out for my children when I'm not there.  I'm now understanding why so many mothers opt to go on Xanex.

 

Another reason I become so emotional (and sad) is that I desire incredibly to have more children, although like many others in our current economy, our situation doesn't allow for it.  And the older the boys get, the further away we get from the idea of adding more siblings to our brood.  I do not wish to have children eight or ten years apart.  The family I envisioned would be close, and "grow up" together in the same household.  If money were no issue, I'd have had another child by now.  It saddens me.  I wonder when that will end.

 

Don't get me wrong, I'm more than content with these two angels.  I simply just love being a mom, and I want for them to have a large support system of siblings to share their lives with.  I dream of being surrounded by all of my children and grandchildren in my senior years, with a home filled with love constantly multiplying and laughter pouring out through the windows.  I struggle with "quality over quantity" in terms of what we can afford to give them in life, and what they'll have to sacrafice if we were to add another child to the family.  Afterall, there are already tons of experiences John and I wish to provide them with that we're unable to.  Private school being number one on our list.

 

For now, it's just me, my beloved John and our two perfect boys.  And today, I'm counting every single blessing they continue to bring me.  I just adore the hell out of them!

 

 

Three Pairs of Blue

Three pairs of two
The most beautiful I’ve ever seen
Each a different shade of blue
Not brown, hazel, or green

The windows to each one’s soul
So I’ve heard my whole life
Two pairs to mother and mold
To the third, a supportive wife

The depth and the beauty of each pair’s hue
One tip of the iceberg to what lies inside
Of each magnificently unique pair of blue
For which I hold the utmost of pride

All six eyes of blue twinkle, dance and shine
I’m so fortunate to look into them each day
Beyond lucky am I that those blue eyes are mine
Making life more spectacular in every way

Those three pairs of blue make each smile more bright
And each teardrop more deeply felt
They brighten up a dreary day, and light up the darkest night
And with just a mere glance from them, I melt

The first pair grabbed me at my first look
With intensity and flirtatiousness I won’t soon forget
First my attention, then my heart those eyes took
Giving me a feeling of intrigue the moment we met

The second pair came on a December afternoon
And was like seeing love for the very first time
My joyful emotions filled up the room
His blurry, blue newborn eyes seemed to chime

In the middle of the night last Autumn
I met the third pair so big and brand new
Glaring up at me, yet another blue-eyed son
Speaking to me, “Mama, I love you.”

Three pairs of blue to cherish and love
They give me hope, strength and meaning so true
Together our family fits like a glove
Me, and my three pairs of blue.

 

 

Our Halloweens, Past & Present ☺

And if you want a reminder of just how quickly change happens all around you, just take a look at children....

This is Halloween 3 short years ago... My little Lion and Scarecrow in our ensemble of the Wizard of OZ. 

(Yes, that's me in the background, Dorothy.  And no, that was not a wig- but my Real Hair.  I went through a red phase...  Shouldn't every gal? 

My Tin Man Husband was busy painting his face Silver in the bathroom, and this shot was taken pre the crying and screaming that his scary face caused in the children.  They had no idea who he was and in turn suffered frightened meltdowns before heading out to Trick-or-Treat.)

 



Halloween 2009:

We were each an element that makes up a S'more...

Our Marshmallow...

& Our Chocolate Bar.... 

(And you can assume that my husband and I were each Graham Crackers.  So sorry we have no family pics on our laptop files...  as they were taken my my mother with her own camera.)

This is them as a Vampire and a Pirate from the same year, for their aunt's Halloween Bash....

Finally, last year they broke away from our "Family Ensemble" and chose their costumes based off of what they found most interesting in a Walmart aisle....

The Magician and his Bunny Rabbit. 

(A little too big to be pulled out of the hat, but cute as a bunny just the same. ;-)  You should see the view from the back, his tail was the cutest part!)

And this year, Halloween 2011, the kids will dress up as their favorite super heroes.  (And Dad and Mom will join in on the fun again, as the villains!):

Our Brave Spiderman and Batman.... 

I will dress as (a very less sexy) Cat Woman-think kitty ears, a tail and drawn on whiskers with black sweats.  And my hubs will dress up as The Joker.

Even our new pooch will join in on the fun this year...

Super Dog Rocky, at your service!!!

Hard to believe these are the same kids...  they grow so fast.  And each Halloween comes around more quickly than the last!

So cherish every moment- the pumpkin pickin' and carving.  The dressing up.  The decorated spooky treats, and rooms.... Knocking on cheerful neighbors' doors. Bonfires (with S'mores, of course!).  The Halloween movies, scary music, and sugar highs!  The whole nine yards!  These are memories that both kids and their parents alike will recall and cherish for years to come. ♥

*Added:

The family photos on our buffet table.

At least you get a sense of how big and scary the Tin Man was for these little kids.  :)

Let's Get Back to Meaningful Conversations

When did we become a generation of people who shies away from having serious discussions?  I’ve got a hunch I’m not the only one who has noticed this growing trend of folks steering clear of any topic they think could potentially turn ugly.  I find myself wondering more and more often why this is, and if it’s everywhere or just here in my small state of Delaware. 

Whenever I try to speak about say political, spiritual or religious beliefs with family or friends, the overwhelming majority either doesn’t want to touch the topic with a ten foot pole or they immediately go on the defense.  I’m not someone who goes around perpetually seeking out this kind of conversation.  It’s just that it sometimes come up.  A news story may come onto the television, an article on religious wars is featured on the cover of a magazine, the new political election season or something to this effect will come up in some way, shape or form.  And when I comment on it, or ask the views of the person I am with, I usually get the same reaction.  An uncomfortable expression takes over their faces.  They either flat out state that they don’t want to have the conversation or they take on an automatic argumentative tone if they feel I’m not coming from the viewpoint that they are.  Sometimes, in rare instances, I’ll hear an opinion but it’s rarely ever backed with an explanation or facts, which I find equally irritating.  And now with more corruption in our religious institutions, with a plethora of new political campaigns being launched, and an endless supply of thought provoking news stories on a wide range of topics all right at each of our fingertips, why are we reduced to “small talk”.   Why can’t we intellectually discuss controversial issues anymore? 

I know there is a time and a place for everything, but the question of when that time is and that place is begs to be answered.  Do we need to schedule meetings with one another to talk about thoughtful and social issues, on such and such a date, and at an agreed upon time?  That would just never happen.  I believe the fact that we can generally only converse about “safe subjects” with those in our families and in our social circles is incredibly damaging to our society.  But I’m reduced to discussing the “safe” things with them all out of fear of a falling out, and hard feelings taking place.  And, quite frankly, because almost no one wishes to ever have these discussions.

I see that these important discussions often take place on the Internet, where people feel comfortable expressing their true opinions from the safety of their anonymous computer screens.  That’s great that important issues are being discussed in different forums online, however; it’s online where it tends to go down in a seriously less ethical way.  Perhaps the words “humane”, “fair”, and “mature” could all be equally interchangeable with “ethical”.  It’s on the Internet that many individuals turn to nasty remarks; mean-spirited posts and hatred fueled discussions ensue.  These discussions lack merit in the end, because instead of sticking to facts and being civil, there’s always those “trolls” who sling figurative mud at the others whom disagree with them.  I’d love to see these conversations taking place face to face, in a civil manner, with people we actually know, love, and socialize with regularly.  Especially intriguing, is when you can talk to another person who believes completely opposite of what you do.  So I can’t help but wonder:  Why can’t we all just “agree to disagree” as the cliché goes?  I’m asking myself more and more, “Where’s the passion!?”  Sure I hear the same griping about how our politicians could do better, be better, how there are no jobs, how inflation has gone through the roof, the housing market is corrupt and unjust.  But show me the thought process behind how you feel things could be made better!



Maybe it is just me.  I like a good debate.  Challenge me on my thoughts.  Make me question my beliefs.  I’ll either come away from it clinging more strongly to them, or I’ll be enlightened by the other side of the argument.  Only, that’s just it: these conversations need not be actual arguments.  I know I can’t be the only one who’s noticed a growing trend in people feeling personally attacked if you question why they feel the way they do.  The reality of it is, not everyone agrees with everything you think and believe in.  And I’m beginning to feel like the minority because I truly believe that’s a wonderful thing.  The fact that there are so many different people in this world keeps things interesting and keeps us as a people progressing.  I strongly believed in what Barack Obama and Joe Biden stood for in the last presidential election, and I had no qualms about broadcasting that.  An email conversation back in 2008 regarding the candidates running for office and their platforms took place among several individuals with different political beliefs during that time, and sadly it quickly went south because not everyone could respectfully disagree.  It’s very frustrating when people cannot remain calm, cool and collected (or at least refrain from insults and personal digs) during these debates of ideas.  Personally, I can still like you even if I think your opinion on the Jobs Bill is ridiculous, or if your ridicule of our Commander in Chief seems unfounded.  You can believe in a god that I find baffling, practice Judaism, Voodoo, Christianity, or be a Hippie Child, and as long as you are authentic, good natured and friendly I will judge you solely on your core.  Likewise, your view point on the immigration laws or the Wall Street Stand In may completely differ from mine, yet I will still show you respect and hear your thoughts without slandering you.  I may still question your decisions and feelings on these topics, but that only means I find interest in people and their behavior and because I’m curious as to why we people do the things we do and believe in the things we choose to believe in. 

I’ve been told, “I don’t want to have this conversation” when I casually bring up an article I read on Christianity, with a close relative.  I read constantly on social networking sites, statements such as “There are certain things that should never be discussed, like religion and politics” by friends of mine, and their friends.  I also see many poorly thought out responses made on these social networking pages to postings about one’s personal beliefs, instead of a thoughtful and respectful reply.  It’s infuriating for me to see. 

My own sister told me a few years ago that she thought I was an “extremist” because I called up my state representative and let my opinion be heard on an upcoming piece of legislation.  Why are regular folks being labeled as extreme when they show passion for something more than their immediate families?  Since when did it become over-the-top to demonstrate interest in more than shopping, media and celebrities, and our kids’ little league games?  And is there anyone else who feels the way I do about the lack of conversations taking place about the more profound and important issues in life?



If we all ceased to have these types of conversations, what will happen to our future?  If religion and politics and everything in between had never been discussed in the past, and if people like myself and a handful of others I know didn’t speak up and not only cast their votes but make certain to do what they can to make their voices be heard amongst their friends, families, and neighbors as well as their representatives- where in the world would we all be right now?



It’s a terrible thing if we “regular” adults aren’t having these imperative conversations, being that we are the ones who are responsible for making things happen in our own lives and in the lives of our children.  If our kids don’t hear us having these talks, these healthy debates of ideals and beliefs, how can we expect them to be passionate, proactive and caring individuals that will take responsibility for the ways things happen in their world?  These conversations can be thoughtful, respectful and a wonderful lesson in passion, civility, acceptance and accountability for ourselves and for our children.  They help us to grow, they aid us in understanding one another, and they give birth to new ways of thinking.  It all starts with conversation.  Let’s get back to meaningful ones.



Unpredictable Chaotic Bliss

You never know what the day will bring.  Even with the predictability of being a stay home mom of two toddlers, this is true.  While I must admit our “adventures” are limited.  (Say like… to the park, grocery market, or nearest Chic fil A play area.)  There are still a plethora of places and situations one can find herself in when she’s running around with little kids as sidekicks.  The randomness of being a parent of young kids is constant.   You wake up thinking you’ll scramble some eggs and bacon, and instead its pancakes and sausage they want.  Sure, this is one miniscule example.  But this is just the first five minutes of your day.  You believe you’re ahead of the game with their outfits picked out the night before, only to be met with pouty lips, and watery eyes because it’s the wrong shirt you’ve chosen.  (You pick and choose your battles, but with just fifteen minutes left to get to preschool, I’d be willing to bet you’d swap that striped shirt for the Batman one, too.   You’d probably also feed your kid whatever it is (within reason) that will get him to eat, just so that you can follow through with brushing of the teeth and the hair, doing the dressing, the putting on of the socks and shoes, the back pack, etcetera etcetera etcetera – just to get out of the freaking door!)  Then….. someone’s got to poop.  ALWAYS!  Poop never ceases to come at the most inopportune times!  Just before the movie starts at the theatre, right as you’re about to stuff that fork full of pasta fasul into your mouth, and always when you’re rushing out the door to get somewhere on time!  So, after doing his business and, attempting to wipe the tushy himself, he flushes the poo along with twenty pounds of toilet paper, causing the toilet to over flow- soaking more than just the floor.  Time to pick out a third shirt, and grab your good towels to clean up the stinky, soaking wet mess happening on the bathroom floor.  (Because the good towels are the closest to you and because the only things you care about right now is trying to NOT be locked out of the preschool building.)   All in a weekday morning!  See?  Hectic situations ensue on a daily basis with these tiny, chaotic people.  Schedule things?  Ha!  The very idea of scheduling laughs in my face.

How about you’re rolling along the highway at 60 miles per hour heading to a doctor’s appointment, when one of your kids projectile vomits.  The flowing liquid in the rear view mirror catches the corner of your eye, and the screams or horror from his sibling next to him render you so off guard that it triggers your foot to slam on the brake.  In doing so, the airborne mass of disgustingness propels forward at an even higher velocity, covering your face just as you turn backwards to see what exactly this disgusting looking levitated matter is.  Now you’re swerving off the road, where you vehicular manslaughter a baby turtle, and narrowly miss a billboard sign for some kind of erectile dysfunction medication in the middle of Interstate 95, wondering what the heck happened, and how the hell you’ll ever be able to afford the nine hundred dollar ticket for reckless driving you now have because the cop who came to your aid is single and childless and has no sympathy whatsoever for what you’ve just gone through! 

No.  This did not really happen to me.  But it’s entirely possible, give the fact that kids are so damn unpredictable and have a knack for making things happen that you couldn’t have possibly foreseen in a million years. 

And oh the questions I’m faced with explaining to these inquisitive boys and the things we get into because of those incessant inquiries.  It’s a domino effect, and there’s no end in sight!  This morning, for instance, I found myself answering the question from my four year old as to why some people call the beach the desert.  Undoubtedly a question brought on by some cartoon episode I had entertaining the kids while I attempted to cook breakfast.  (Who says tv doesn’t teach?)  Out came the laptop, up came the Google screen, and in a nano second there was a map of the US, which aided me tremendously in my explanation of how sand without the ocean is not a beach.  ….Whiiiich brought us to finger painting pictures of the sand and surf per the kids’ requests.  A filthy kitchen, two color-covered little dudes, and a whopping mess of paint, papers, brushes, toilet paper rolls and plates later…. I’m exhausted, and I’ve spent my whole morning and afternoon doing something that I didn’t anticipate I’d be doing when I awoke this morning.  This, of course, means that I got nothing else of any importance done today. Like, organizing the bills (Me?  Organized? Ha!), calling to have some erroneous charge removed from my checking account (PI work, aka those dang websites claiming free trials to look up legal documents on people but who really jip you by charging ANYWAY, costs money), making one single bed in this house (Oh well, we’ll just mess ‘em up in a few hours again anyway), or finishing any one of the hundred unfinished house projects that have remained unfinished for months (What’s one more day?)…. But to be fair, making a mess painting with two lil cuties in the kitchen is way more fun than doing adult chores.   Any day.

Point is: 

If you’re an anal retentive, scheduling crazed, orderly, clean, hectic-life-hatin’, methodical, precise person- do not have kids!  Or.  Have them anyway and embrace your newfound chaos.  You’ll be kissing goodbye this idea of an actual clean and structured lifestyle for a good long while.  But if anything is worth it, kids are!

End note:  Literally, just as I was about to post this, my four year old came running out from his bed screaming "Bloody nose!  I got a bloody nose!"

I couldn't make this stuff up.....  Unpredictable, indeed.



Here comes the.... Divorcee

I’m a twenty-something Caucasian chick from the suburbs.  And I’m a minority.  In several ways.  Presently I’m focusing on the fact that I’m a minority amongst my friends.  And not because of my race, or age, or gender, or because of where I reside.  But because I’m one half of a married couple who has somehow managed to STAY married.  Think about that for a minute.  This may be no big deal in today’s world if I were middle aged, perhaps.  But as I’ve already stated, I’m not.  And neither are my friends.   My coupled friends are around mine and my husband’s ages, and they are ending their marriages left and right.  “Till death, do us part” has overwhelmingly become, “Till I can’t take anymore of your bullshit, do we part”.  And even though we’ve all been hearing for quite some time now that approximately half of all marriages end in divorce, didn’t you always think these couples were at least making it a little longer than a few years?  This isn’t Hollywood here….. Ugh. It’s so saddening to see.  Especially because small children are involved.  And what I also find particularly bothersome is that it’s the woman in 99% of these marriages who were the ones done dirty, who have given up the most, and who yet still stand to lose the most.  Do I seem bitter?  Maybe a lil bit…



We women have a habit of leaving our jobs to raise the children and care for our husbands and homes.  We’re known to put off going back to school, so that our breadwinner husbands can work longer hours or go back to continue his education because he’s the one who will reap the financial benefit for the family and more quickly.  (Did ya hear?  Women still make approximately 70 cents for every dollar a man earns.  And here in my home state of Delaware that gap is even larger.)  Wives and mothers also often find that their friendships suffer because they’re too busy with the laundry, and the cooking, and changing diapers, and helping with homework, and playing chauffeur to the kids.  These wives give the biggest thing they could possibly give to their husbands and children:  Themselves.  And when things go sour, they’re left in the wreckage, struggling to deal emotionally, with the added financial burden weighing them down as well.  This is the norm among the couples in my social circle, anyway.  It reminds me of the great Feminist Gloria Steinem’s famous quote, “Most women are just one man away from welfare.”  I’m a Feminist.  Did I mention?  Well, I am.  At least, I consider myself one.  To a point.  (Everything in moderation, I like to say.)  Having stated this, I’d like to also mention I in no way feel that in order to be “pro woman” one needs to be “anti man”.  I’m just callin’ it like I see it here.  The ugly truth is that all but a few of the men in these broken up unions were unfaithful and dishonest.  Some repeatedly.  And the uncanny part of it, is that even after their indiscretions were found out, they still behaved smug and difficult to work with when it came to attempting to repair the marriage.  What gives!?



Recently, it’s been proposed in Mexico by a left wing political party to change the civil code in allowing temporary marriage licenses to be issued.  Two years would be the minimum “Marriage Contract”, a contract that would be renewable if the couple remained happily married.  These would incorporate provisions on how the married couple’s kids and property would be handled, as well, if they chose not to continue with the relationship.  This makes some sense if you take a moment to ponder how every other contract we enter into has an end date.  We can lease our vehicles, at which point the lease comes to an end and we can decide whether to buy or not.  This is also the case when we lease our houses, and we have terms on our mortgages.  What other contracts can you think of that you’ve signed, that binds you for life?

What about the old adage, “All good things must come to an end”?  Hmm?  Or ponder for a moment, if you will, the fact the you are a different You today than you were even just a few years ago.  And undoubtedly, so is your spouse.  The dreams you had for yourself, number of children you wished to have, life goals, and hobbies of interest, they may have very well changed also.  If you’re anything like me, they’ve changed and seemingly keep on a’changin’.  Say, hypothetically, that you and your partner had bonded over a shared love of country music, the same social group in college, and that you both fell for one another over a shared love of rock climbing.  Fast forward to married life now with two kids,  minimal free time, stretch marks and stretched bank accounts…  Not only are you both stressed to the max.  But!  You now can’t bear to hear the country music being played on the radio today, ya only see those old college buds’ faces through a social networking site now, and you are so tired all of the time that you couldn’t physically force your twice-the-size-it-used-to-be ass up a small hill let alone the side of a mountain, if you’d wanted to.  This scenario doesn’t seem so far fetched to me.  What happens when all of the “perfect” reasons you’d been “perfect” for one another have dissipated?  Aside from one spouse betraying the other- there’s a myriad of reasons that marriages don’t last.  These things may seem small, but they add up over time.  There are probably literally hundreds of factors that evolve us all on a continuing basis.  How can you possibly grow together in everything?

The idea of marriage proves to be different than “actual” marriage, with examples of this truth all around us.  In the media and in our own families and neighborhoods we see firsthand how quickly and how nasty the demise of a marriage can be.  The wedding is fantasized and romanticized.  Then shortly after we’re made aware of the dirty details of deception, abuse, addictions, and mistresses.  More folks are beginning to see the unrealistic expectations of “till death do us part” for what they are: Unrealistic.  And many are choosing cohabitation over marriage.  In the United States, rates of cohabitation among heterosexual couples have more than doubled since the 1990’s, (finds a recent study by the Pew Research Center).  June Carbone, a law professor at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, stated in a New York Times piece that today females with college degrees are actually more likely to marry than those with just high school diplomas, the opposite of several decades ago.  (Think these “blue collared” ladies are trying to break the cycle of depending on a man?)

I could ramble on forever about this topic of marriage. Like, for instance, how marriage first came into play when societal changes began to evolve.  Ironic how marriage starts out with the man, and typically, ends with the man.  See, men didn’t give two hoots about monogamy and marriage until material possessions came into play.  Once males began to acquire personal physical possessions, they began to care about who their offspring were.  Before this time, women and men mothered and father multiple children by multiple sexual partners, not caring who the parents of each child were.  It just wasn’t a matter of importance.  And all shared a communal responsibility for supporting each other: “the tribe”.  But as we evolved (there’s that word again) as human beings, and structured society took over, the need to know who should rightfully get the father’s earthly belongings became an issue.  Bring the need for “order” into the picture, and you now have things like man created religions that favor marriage for their own purposes as well….

Believe it or not, I’m a happily married person.  It may sound like I’m advocating for divorce, or against marriage. But I recognize full well the advantages to marriage- the monogamy, emotional support, the benefits to the children, having that special someone to be there through thick and thin till the end, to share a lifetime with, and I know that the list can go on and on.  It’s just that I’m a realist.  My husband and I are up today, but could just as easily find ourselves down in our friends’ places tomorrow.  We’ve worked on our marriage, a lot.  But then, so have many of our friends.  There are just certain things that marriages can’t come back from…. Each union is unique and complicated beyond anyone’s wildest imaginations.  This is undoubtedly true.  I’m just so damn sick of these women being the glue that’s held their marriages together for however long it lasted, then getting the short end of the stick when their husbands allow for it to crash and burn.  It may take two to ‘tango’, but it only takes one to break the trust forever and destroy a marriage- leaving the lives of their children and of their once beloved wives in shambles... Their exes now faced with the struggle and uncertainty of how to move forward with their new lives, in the rubble that remains.......



Don’t Play Ball with Mean Girls

In my recent Internet travels, I came across a most poignant story written by another woman and mother.  Liked it so much, I shared it on my facebook wall.  In a nutshell, she’d been discussing the topic of how to deal with difficult people, slash situations, with a girlfriend of hers.  Some folks are inherently difficult.  And mud-slinging types are obviously everywhere.  Sometimes it can feel almost impossible to not be sucked into their drama.  Her friend told her she just doesn’t hit the ball back to these kinds of people.   That adhering to the phrase “don’t hit the ball back”, has gotten her through those tough times when someone’s batting (and I’m paraphrasing here) a Ball full of BS at her.  The author of this piece concluded that the phrase has stuck with her.  Even though there are numerous other adages pertaining to these kinds of situations, such as “take the high road” (very commonly used around my parts) and “don’t stoop to their level”, (timeless), “I don’t have to show up to every argument I’m invited to” (clever), and “the world’s full of cactus, doesn’t mean I have to sit on one” (one that’s sure to bring a chuckle), this ball analogy one just stands out most.  Perhaps it’s because the others are played out.  When we hear something enough times, we cease to hear it anymore.  The audible sound is there, but the meaning’s lost.  Faded from its overuse, it slowly comes to hold no weight.  That’s one theory.  And personally, this new phrase also resonates because I’m a very visual person.  The mental picture that it conjures up works for me: When someone is slinging mud (the ball) at me, I can let it lie there, instead of ‘batting’ back.  I like that.  It’s my choice.  I can keep the ball game going, or I can see it for what it truly is, and walk off the field.  (One that sometimes, I wasn’t even aware I was standing on, for a game I didn’t know I was even in, in the first place.)

At this point in my life: a mother of two, a wife, a pet owner twice over, home owner and multiple bill possessor… nearing the big 3-0, I’ve learned quite a few surprising life lessons.  This specific post will focus on one of those.  (And if you’ve fallen off track with my “big 3-0” comment, spare me the head shaking and dramatic commentary.  I know that 30 isn’t “old”, but it is a landmark birthday for any woman.  And while I’m aware that people over thirty may be reading this and could potentially find it laughable or find it insulting- it’s not meant to be taken that way.  If you’ve passed your 30^th, I’m sure you didn’t do so without at least batting an eyelash.  It’s kind of a big deal.  Therefore, I feel I’m entitled to the use of the word “big” when referencing it.  So, let’s get back on track.)

At the age of 25, supposedly, the part of our brains that understands consequence is supposed to have matured, allowing us to adequately choose between good and bad behavior. This one lesson I’d like to focus on presently is: Immaturity fades, meanness however, does not.  Plainly put: Women do not outgrow Mean.  Immaturity fades away with most of the life changes I’ve listed above.  But true mean girls just grow up to be mean women.  Sure there may have been unfortunate incidents where we females can recall with cringed expressions a time in our adolescence that we dropped the ball and acted unkind, snarky or even mean.  Hell, we may have even been bitchy as recent as last week to a brawd that cut us off in the parking lot of the grocery market.  But that’s not what I’m talking about here.  I’m addressing perpetual meanness.  You see it on tv: Hello Real Housewives!  You see it in the news: Female politicians publicly dissing their opponents based on the other woman’s appearance.  And probably, you’ve seen it in your own social circles.  I see it time and again, thus I’m convinced it’s got to be true.  Heck, even a recent study done by Indiana University in Bloomington found that children who are remorseless bullies usually go on to develop “severe behavioral problems such as fighting, lying and stealing” well into adulthood.  There you have it!  Scientific data to back it up!  But, seriously, they could have just asked almost any lady out there, and we could have told ‘em all about it.

Just recently, I’ve been made privy to the most heinous remarks made by a female in a social circle that I “travel in”.  I gasped out loud.  Oh the stories!  Somehow they can still manage to blow my mind!  But nothing is like seeing it with your own two eyes.  A very kind woman I met a couple of years ago is the latest victim of a few Grown Mean Girls, and I’d had the opportunity to see the exact email correspondence that ensued.  The words that these GMG’s used, one in particular, are ones that I could never imagine uttering to another woman.  (If you don’t know me personally, I should point out that I’m no soft spoken wall flower of a chick.  I curse.  Regularly.  I’ve got hot head Sicilian and Italian blood running through my veins and I do not allow myself to be walked on-Ever.)  With that cleared up, I would think that at a certain age and point in ones’ life, unless you are complete trash or under the influence of drugs, there are particular words you’d steer clear from “throwing” at other adults.  And certain topics we should refrain from, as well, say like family.  I’m of the firm belief that you can very clearly get your point across while maintaining your self respect and dignity.  Although, one could certainly argue that these types have no dignity. 

A reoccurring theme I see in some of these, er, situations… is when one person becomes the target after refusing to participate in the meanness.  The aforementioned friend is one of these people.  She’d had it with the manipulative undercurrent of a set few within a larger circle of friends, and she called the nastiest GMG out on her bad behavior, using specific examples that had accumulated over quite a long period of time to explain why it was people were beginning to exclude her.  The accounts of lying, manipulating, back stabbing, two faced trash talking and outright bullying, were laid out by my friend on a silver platter.  (Speaking of “balls”, not a lot of us women could have found the courage to be so forthcoming and honest.  I applaud her.)  This GMG undoubtedly took the message as a threat, instead of a lesson in “How to Treat Others 101” and began work on another web of deceit and damage control with the few women she had left in her corner.  One by one her minions clicked the “delete” button on their facebook friends lists on the woman who dared go against the “ring leader” of the GMG’s.  And one even had the “balls” to throw some truly ghastly messages her way.  I haven’t heard yet, but I know how much class this friend of mine has, so I’m fairly certain she let those balls lie right there in silence.

Once, in middle school, I’d refused to go along with the birthday girl’s idea of doing something catty to another girl at her sleep over party.  This mean girl plotted and planned and roped some others in on doing one thing or another to her poor unsuspecting victim, once the gal fell asleep in her sleeping bag.  I outright refused.  I don’t find humor in laughing at others’ expense.  I come from the school of “laughing with you, not at you”- of course this mentality completely goes out the window if you fall down steps, or break a chair upon sitting in it.  Then you’re free game.  (I’d still give you a hand to help you up- but let’s keep it real, funny’s funny.) I digress…  I think you can see where I’m going with this story.  An “insider” proved her loyalty to me by informing me that I’d ticked this birthday meany off so much by not going along with her evil scheme (which in turn, caused some others to not go along with it) that she’d changed her target to Me.  I vowed to stay awake ALL night, and succeeded.  Hymph.  Point in case- these mean asses are of the mind that if you’re not “with them”, you are “against them”.  And watch out then, because when they throw their balls, they’re aiming for below the belt!  …  It also makes me believe that some of these GMG’s ‘friends’ are just afraid of being on the other end of the stick, and so they follow the old “Keep your enemies closer” mentality just like they did in middle school.

These days I’m being very cautious as to whom I will call a friend.  ‘Sticks and Stones’- say what they will, these GMG’s will not get to play with me.  They can throw enough digs my way to have dug a hole large enough to burry themselves in, and they still will not get the satisfaction of a response from moi.  No sense in “hitting back the ball” with these types.  I’d had my fair share of experience with this kind of person, and seen enough of other’s dealings with them.  There’s no changing them.  Puberty has already proven this point.  And they don’t deserve the attention from the rest of us.  Just “don’t hit the ball back”!

(Photo courtesy Getty Images)

Now, mess with my kids and that’s one ball I’ll grab with my hand and throw back at ya- hard enough to bust your nose.  But that’s a different ball game entirely…………