It seems appropriate on this day in which we celebrate the passing of an old year into that of a new year, to reflect on the passage of time. Time is a funny thing. Time can be our friend or our enemy. Time can fly by so fast we can scarcely breathe or it can drag it’s feet like that of an unwilling child. More...
After spending much too long attempting to upload today's photo, I have decided that this week's Messy Monday will have to be described. You will be required to use your imagination and I will have to dust off my descriptive skills. You see, WordPress does not like me today, but it will not prevent Messy Monday. More...
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! We had a fabulous Christmas this year despite having a sick baby most of the week. I've been singing the Hallelujah chorus every time I give my sweet baby antibiotics. Thank heavens for modern medicine. More...
I would like to give you some tips and pointers on appropriate phone behavior. I could tell when I spoke with you that you are young and likely have no children of your own. Here are some things to keep in mind next time you speak with a worried mother: More...
From time to time, I look at my children and see their adult-selves. I catch a glimpse of what they may be like. It may be in an action, or a look. It's like I will have a moment to see the future, see who they will become. More...
I'm in my sexy mini-van, sitting at a stop light with the radio blaring. I am car dancing and I could care less who sees it. Over the din of the music, you can hear screams. I look over at the car next to me, and some young thing primping in her itty-bitty car mirror shoots me a wilting glance. The light changes and I drive off, singing along to Matchbox 20 and ignoring the toddler in the back. More...
I've been pretty good this year. I only yell at the kids once in a while and I try to be fun on occasion. I keep my husband happy most of the time and I haven't killed any pets this year. I don't know about you, but that's success in my book!
I don't really need a bunch more stuff. That would just require more cleaning and when you come down the chimney I think it will be painfully obvious that that is not my forte. No, the things on my list are fairly simple, really.
The first thing I'd like is for all of the socks in my house to have a match. My children don't seem to mind wearing mismatched socks, but it drives me a little crazy every time I fold them and the pile of single socks is greater than the pile of matched socks. Is that too much to ask?
Number two on my list may be a little harder, but I really think it's doable. I would like for my children to never be without a coat. Oh, they don't need new coats; they just need the ability to keep track of the ones they have. I almost super glued my son's coat to his head this morning, but I was afraid that would put me on the naughty list.
My third item is a bit more extravagant, but once again, I believe totally doable. I would like a laundry maid. I need someone to fold and put away my laundry once a week. My husband claims it doesn't bother him, but when he has to wrap a towel around himself to go in search of underwear, I sense a little dissatisfaction.
Santa, I’m all for world peace, but I need a little peace in my home first. So, for my last request, I want children who don’t beat on each other. Most specifically, the two-year old needs some help. Don’t put her on the naughty list; just give her a crash course in not beating on her sister.
P.S. There’s a pile of laundry and a few toys by the fire place, so watch out on your entrance this year.
This week's Messy Monday comes to you via the den. The den is No-man's land. It's the place of all the paper stuffs. It's Dad's room and I don't venture there except to add more paper. The pictures are a little blurry today due to a crappy camera and a helping infant. It's better this way. A sharp, crisp image would merely scare you away!
Where's your mess today?
P.S. To all of my readers, I have a bit of an announcement. (No I'm not pregnant!) I have been in the process of moving my blog. You can find me at www.staceysmotheringmoments.com. If you follow me here, come follow me over there. I'm not sure how long I'll post to both, so come join me! Happy Monday!
I saw red. I tried not to, but I did. HOW? How in the world do you forget a coat when it is 6, count them...6, degrees outside. Patience will elude me in this.
I shouldn't have lectured, but I did. I should have maintained my composure, but I definitely didn't. As we walked out the door last night to go see the Christmas lights, I was fuming. I know he's only 7, but seriously!
I thought back to my own childhood. I remember my mother insisting I take gloves to school. I remember taking them off as soon as I was out of sight of her car and refusing to wear them during recess. I'm sure I made my mother crazy. Common sense and popularity do not go well together. And yet, I survived, and I still have my hands.
I made my son wear his sister's old Cheer coat to school. I figured at least it's blue and he'll have something to wear until he locates his coat at school. He was mildly unhappy, but I'm sure he could tell there was no room for discussion. I made him take a hat and gloves. He may not wear them, but at least I'm giving him the choice not to freeze to death.
After the kids walked out the door, I returned to the laundry room. I put a load of whites in and picked up the random things off the floor to tidy up a bit. And then I saw it. The elusive coat was behind the door. Hiding. Refusing to be found. Insisting that it be thought to be at school on this cold, winter day.
I sighed a heavy sigh. I gave the wrong lecture. He needed the "put your stuff away" lecture, not the "don't leave your coat at school" lecture. Then again, I'm sure he could do without a lecture at all.
Most of my children have a lovey: a treasured stuffed animal or blankie that is slept with and loved to bits and pieces. M's lovey is a stuffed dog that was given to him by his aunt when he was a toddler. It was aptly named White Puppy, though now days, it should be Gray Puppy.
He drug it around when it was bigger than he was, and it still goes with us to all important events. White Puppy is well traveled and has been camping, to the Caribbean and to Yellowstone, just to name a few.
About a month ago, White Puppy was taken to the basement to help with a fort the children were building. When I tucked M into bed that night, he informed me that he didn't know where White Puppy went. I asked if he was in the basement. He shrugged and I told him he was welcome to go look.
He never went and looked. White Puppy was lost to the depths of the basement and apparently, if you are a child, you can only venture down there with a willing sibling. The last month has been a very busy one, and there hasn't been a willing sibling available, and M never remembers until bedtime.
Last night, as I was tucking M in, I noticed that White Puppy was still MIA. I asked about it, and M teared up. I said goodnight and went to the 'oh so scary basement' and found White Puppy quite quickly. I walked into my sons room with White Puppy behind my back. He instantly sat up and tried to see what I had. When I showed him, he started to cry and he hugged his beloved dog. I sat and hugged them both and he thanked me while tears ran down his face.
"I thought he was gone forever", he whispered.
As I left his room, I realized that I was my son's hero. He was too scared to go rescue his dog, and too stubborn to ask me to do it for him.
I smiled to myself as I went downstairs. I'm glad I could brave the deep, dark basement for the lovey that was lost.
This week's Messy Monday is, once again, a two-fer. First, I bring to you the toy bucket that has turned into the toy corner. And will most likely turn into the toy room if I'm not careful. You see, toys multiply and replenish themselves in the night. Toys and socks get together in the dark and PARTY.
It seems no matter how many times I go through the toys, they get spread through the house and are never in the place they are supposed to be. Where is YOUR toy mess?
Part two comes to you from a very mischievous two-year old and is actually from yesterday morning. This is what I found when I came to get her ready for church.
Isn't she lovely? It was pink marker that I scrubbed and scrubbed and still didn't get off completely. She was also covered in red juice from these little red candies she got into. She got a bath that we didn't have time for and we were nearly late to church as a result of her escapades. Nothing like a little Sunday excitement.
I also have to mention that M turned 7 yesterday. We had a successful birthday party at home, complete with presents and cake. He received a lego set, the requested movie, and some bakugans from us. Due to anticipation, we let him open his grandparents gifts on Saturday. His birthday was declared a great success!
My husband had a work party last night. I was so excited to get out. I had arranged babysitting and was determined to enjoy an evening with my spouse. Of course my little sidekick got to come, but after toting six children, toting one didn't seem like a big deal.
I've been feeling a tad frumpy, so I decided to go shopping. Now when I say shopping, I mean: go to Target, pray I find something cute, try it on in the largest dressing room so that the cart fits, change fast enough that the toddler unlocking the door won't expose me to the world, and get out as fast as humanly possible.
We had good luck at Target and I successfully bought myself a new sweater, new slacks and a new blouse. I was ready for a night on the town!
I had to get the children to the sitter's house (which happened to be my sweet sister-in-law) by 5:30, which meant I had to leave my house by 5:20. I had decided that I would have time to feed the kids dinner before hand, which meant I would have to be dressed by 5. It seemed reasonable when I planned it. But of course, chaos reigned supreme.
4:20 Kids mostly had homework done and I was nearly ready to go primp. O decides she wants to poop in the potty. I haul her in and sit her on the toilet. She spends the next 5 minutes declaring "poopoo all gone" even though nothing had exited her body.
4:30 I give up on O, put a diaper on her and carry the baby football style up to my room so I can get dressed. On my way up the stairs I holler to A that he still needs to practice the piano.
4:35 The baby is fussing in her jumper. She usually loves it in there, but not tonight. I pull her out and brush my teeth with her under my arm, once again football style. I determine that this will never work, so I put her in her bed, knowing she would cry, but needing five whole minutes to myself. I then run downstairs and pop a frozen chicken pot pie in the oven.
4:40 I am now dressed in my new clothes. I consider this a major victory. I slap some nail polish on my toes and proceed to walk around on my heels trying to find some perfume. I know I own some.
4:42 O comes in and informs me she "pooped again". I can smell her, but I send her out. I still need to curl my hair and put on make up. K comes in crying about some injustice, I pat her head and send her out.
4:45 My toes are mostly dry and I'm curling my hair. I hear piano music, if you can call banging on the piano out of frustration music, and am glad that at least some of my orders are being heeded. L walks in holding the baby.
"Why did you get her out?" I ask.
"She was crying mom, here." L tries to shove the baby at me, but I inform her that if she gets her out, she gets to play with her.
4:50 Hair is curled, makeup applied and the stench from the two-year old is overwhelming. I abandon any further primping I might have done ten years ago and go change her diaper. I take the crying baby from her sister, get her dressed and sit down to nurse her.
4:55 M comes in and shoves my phone at me. "It was ringing." Then O comes in and decides she wants her pants on. She wouldn't let me put them on her when I changed her. I told her she'd have to wait, or go ask her big sister. "NO!! Me do it." I then got to watch her struggle with them. She ultimately gives up, gets out some stretchy grey pants which she proudly wears inside out.
4:59 I'm finishing up nursing when I hear M start to holler that the pot pie is done. I holler down that somebody needs to pull it out so it doesn't burn. Nobody listens to me. When E pulls off, I declare her fed, and run downstairs to salvage the pot pie. Thankfully, it's still edible.
5:05 I start slapping frozen waffles onto plates for everyone who didn't want a pot pie and holler at them to eat. I go in the piano room and play for A a section of music that he can't get right and I go find my shoes.
Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, I feed children, pack a bag so they can get PJ's on later, pack a diaper bag, and get everyone in the car. Everyone except for K who is wandering the house crying about socks and shoes. On my way out the door my husband calls to see if I've left yet and if not, can I grab a few things for him. Sure, why not. I'm only insane now.
5:40 As I stand beside the car, finally ready to leave, I take a deep breathe and realize that despite my best efforts I feel more like 'Mom' than 'Sexy wife'.
The evening itself was a tad anti-climatic. It was fine. It made me miss pre-kid dating for sure.
M turns 7 on Sunday. His birthday is apparently all the rage and he has his siblings counting down with him. He's a difficult child to shop for because he wants it all. He wants the toy store and every ad on TV. A couple of days ago, he walks in the door from school and hands he his wish list.
1. TV 2. PSP 3. More games 4. Hot wheels 5. Night at the Museum 6. ipod 7. Rabbits go to home 8. XBOX
Your guess is as good as mine on #8. #5 is a possibility because I've actually heard that one more than once. #4 is odd seeing as how he's never played with Hot Wheels, but whatever. And to the majority of his list I say it's always good to dream!
**For those not versed in Internet lingo, SAHM stands for stay-at-home mom and I will use it throughout this article. It's easier to type!**
I love that I am able to be home with our children. I love that I don't have to work and that I am the one responsible for our children's care. It is a blessing and I will never deny that.
There is, however, a downside to being a SAHM. There's this thing that happens called guilt. I get tired of the constant-ness that is my life. The laundry is always there, the toys always need to be cleaned up. No matter how sparkly clean I can get my house, I can guarantee it will all be undone tomorrow. And every once in a while I have a day like today when I just don't want to.
Don't want to what?
I don't want to do any of it. I want to watch TV all day and eat bon bons, by golly!
That's where the guilt creeps in. There's this nagging in the back of my mind. I keep thinking how I haven't done ANYTHING today. I'm so lazy! I start itemizing all the projects that I've left undone. My bedroom is a mess. You can't walk through the basement without breaking a leg.
As I was contemplating my "lazy" day and all the things I haven't done, I decided to figure out what I've actually accomplished today.
1. Got the older kids off to school 2. Ran 4 1/2 miles 3. Did 1 load of laundry 4. Swept the floor 5. Took out the trash 6. Fed children 7. Got a shower 8. Put breakfast away 9. Changed diapers and dressed the little girls, although I've yet to fix anyone's hair
But then I *gasp* did "nothing"! I watched the news while playing on the computer. And I'm currently contemplating having chicken pot pies for dinner from the freezer. No, not the homemade kind. And guess what, it's OK. The cops aren't going to bust me for being a bad mom because I didn't complete my to-do list. And I've learned from experience that the bedroom and basement will still be there tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.
My post today ends with a question. Where does this pressure come from to "do it all"? At my house, it doesn't come from my husband or my mother or anyone else, for that matter. And yet I feel it. It taunts me.
I am a stay-at-home mom to 4 drama-queens, 2 grubby little boys, 2 cats and a tortoise. I constantly threaten to move to Africa and change my name to George, but I secretly love the chaos my kids create. Life is rarely boring and these are our adventures as recorded by me!
A~ 10 years old and loves to torment his sisters. L~ 8 year old drama queen gymnast. M~6 years old and terribly precocious. K~4 year old sweetheart, but she cries, a lot! O~ 2 year old holy terror. E~ 5 months old and the yummy baby.