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

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.



Oh the Joys of Boys

If ever there was a Girly Girl, I was her.  I didn’t start out that way.  It evolved over time.  A fabulously diva-ish older sis whom I always looked up to, and an always put together beautiful mother, my Tom Boy ways slowly but surely vanished away.  Over time, I went from accompanying my father on trips to the hardware store, and playing with the rocks and dirt, to donning hot rollers in my hair, and blowing on my freshly painted finger nails.  I evolved from the “son my father never had” to the prissy captain of the cheerleading squad with flowing blonde hair and the trail of boys who followed.  Labels on my clothing, heels on my shoes, Brad Pitt posters on my walls…  Transformation complete.  Never looked back.

Not in a million, billion, gazillion years did I ever envision myself being the mother of a boy.  Having had no prior experience with boys- no brothers to speak of & the aunt of a perfectly gorgeous niece- when I saw the identity of my own little bambino’s gender show on that small black and white screen, you could have knocked me off of the table with a feather.  What the hell was I going to do with a BOY!?

Once I held him in my arms, I of course embraced it.  “Mommy’s little Boy… ahhh.”   I vowed to work my hardest to grow him into a sensitive, compassionate, SAFE, little man.  He’d be astute, and cautious, proper, courteous, demure even.  Did I mention, safe and cautious?  Oh was my number one priority to keep my new little prince safe!   To the point that I’d sometimes drive myself to the point of hysteria just thinking about all the possible ways he could feel hurt.  The thought pained me to the core.  I denounced the talks of four wheelers, dirt bikes, trampolines, and the like that I’d heard from my husband and his family.  Eleven short months later, along came another little boy.  Me, with two boys!  If there is a god, he or she certainly has got a sense of humor. 

I enjoyed the purchasing of preppy clothing, books, blocks and the like, and remained steadfast in my view of keeping them away from anything potentially dangerous or vulgar as they played in a completely baby proof environment.  There was no budging on this rule.  Even talks of all the mischief my little angel babies would get into, by jokesters in the family, pissed me off. 

Well, just as all things cycle around- so too have I.  That prissy person I’d evolved into has been steadily chipped away at.  Fast forward six years.  I’ve got two little boys that will be turning four and five years old before this Christmas, and sometimes I amaze myself with the gifts I look at for them.  I can’t even help myself.  I want them to embrace life!  Their smiles and laughter because of the joy they get out of living is priceless to me.  Last year, I purchased mini skate boards for them- MYSELF.  The husband couldn’t believe it when I’d brought them home.  The prima donna, sheltered gal who wasn’t ever allowed to jump on a trampoline growing up and never once wore a pair of roller skates actually purchased dangerous skate boards for her little angels?!  Yep, and I also allow them to bounce on my in-laws’ trampoline to their little hearts’ content.  I get excited looking at dirt bikes in Toys R Us, and count the years until they can enjoy the thrills and joys of cruising on one of them themselves.  (In full protective gear, of course.)  I go fishing with them, although I’ll confess I never will place a worm on a hook.  I play the “Nilock” in our pretend games of Power Rangers, running around making monster sounds and hiding in closets and behind nooks and crannies all over the house, waiting to jump out and scare the bejesus out of these boys.  Outdoor games of baseball, football, digging in the sand to find sand crabs.  You name it, I’m probably doing it.  I’ve become a Tom Boy, yet again!  And I love every minute of it.

These are things I’d never be experiencing, if not for these sons of mine.  It’s true what they say- that when you become a parent, you get to relive your childhood all over again.  Only this time, it’s even better!  Oh how I love them, and all of the joy that they continue to bring to me.  And this is why I sigh as my heart leaps with joy, and I say, “Oh, the joys of Boys”!