Wash, Dry, Fold, Repeat

I know you hear me complaining. I know you hear me when I sigh and say the laundry in this house never seems to end. It's true, you know, it doesn't. It started out small. Little socks for little feet. Tiny shirts for my two little boys. Blueberry stains, applesauce spots, orange juice spills. 
Wash, dry, fold, repeat. 

As the years moved on, the hamper seemed to fill faster and faster. Bigger socks for bigger feet. Larger shirts for bigger boys. Grass stains, ketchup spots, grape juice spills.
Wash, dry, fold, repeat. 

Before I knew it you had both grown so much that you needed your own hampers. Soccer jerseys, baseball pants, ski clothes. Different clothes for my boys who were changing and growing right before my eyes.
Wash, dry, fold, repeat. 

The truth is that behind my complaining is a mom who is desperately trying to remember the smell of your baby pajamas. I remember folding rompers and bibs. I remember losing baby sock after baby sock because there was no way something so tiny was surviving the sock monster that clearly resides in our dryer. 

I remember cleaning skinned knees and kissing boo boos, then hoping that the bloody knee spot would come out of your new cute toddler pants.
I cheer you on at your baseball games knowing full well that the hamper will be full of grass stained pants, ketchup stained shirts, and smelly socks. Sure I roll my eyes, but the truth is I will miss this. The other day as I grabbed all of your clothes out of the dryer I had a flash back to the days of the two of you lying in the grass, waiting for dusk so that you could catch fireflies. I remembered the smell of your clothes after a full day outside. I remembered folding the clothes of my two small boys and feeling happy and content about the day.

The truth is one day I will open that dryer and it will no longer have your socks, or your shirts for me to fold. The two of you are already helping so much with your own laundry, but late at night when you have both drifted off to sleep, I sigh and open the dryer. I sit and I fold your baseball uniforms. I look at the piles and I know that one day they will no longer be there. I look at the piles and I see the both of you. I see your hobbies. I see your favorite shirt that I beg you to stop wearing every other day. I see your pants that you are about to outgrow. I see your sweatshirt you begged for on vacation. I see you. I see who you are, and I remember who you were. As I drift off to sleep I see two little boys lying in the grass waiting for fireflies.
Wash, dry, fold, repeat.

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The Space Between

There was a time that I counted your little toes because the time seemed to allow for it. There was a time that I used to pull your head slowly into my neck so I could breathe you in. Oh how I miss that. There are pictures that remain in my mind, and they are full of baby pouts, chubby cheeks, and moments that seemed to move in slow motion.  They are moments I didn’t realize I should have been recording. They are the moments that defined me as a mother.

Somehow, despite the amount of warnings I received telling me just how fast time was going to move, I didn’t quite grasp it until I myself was caught up in the time warp.  So here I am watching you. Here I am trying to figure out this time we are currently visiting. There are all these people talking about babies, toddlers, teenagers, and college kids, but you don’t fit into any of those groups. You are somehow residing in the space between.

You are still a little boy, but you are trying to navigate a bigger world. You are holding onto your forever friends, while finding your crew.  You are still excited to see your mom and dad, but equally excited to wave goodbye.  The funny thing is, you’re aware that the wave goodbye makes me sad. You are still okay with making sure we are okay.

You are currently in the space between. You are not yet old enough to venture off on adventures of your own, yet not young enough to have us navigate them for you. These are new waters for all of us. No matter how prepared we feel there are moments that make us realize we fell short.

No one told me about the space between. No one told me how fast we would wind up here. No one told me that there was a time between chubby cheeks and teenage angst. No one told me. So here we sit in the space between. Here we breathe in. Here we breathe out. Here we talk about things that don’t involve baby toes or teenage love. Here we talk. Here we fight. Here we love. Here we try the best we can to navigate the next steps. Here we laugh. Here we stay silly. Here we teach our boys about forgiveness. Here we teach them about love.  Here we stay. Here we remain. HERE. Here, we embrace the space between.

A Glimpse

I caught a glimpse of you through the window one afternoon. The sun was just at that spot where I had to squint to see. I watched you while you helped your brother practice his pitches. I watched you knowing that you wanted to do something else, but saw you were determined to help him feel successful. I remembered staying outside with you until the sun began to set as you tried to take your first steps.

I caught a glimpse of you as I walked down the hallway bleary eyed in the morning, rushing to get my first cup of coffee. I stopped in my tracks as you stood in the bathroom, tall, confident, and busy doing your hair for school. I saw you standing there and remembered the days when I washed that very hair.

I caught a glimpse of you laughing with your friends and it brought a smile to my face. It reminded me of how much your dad and I loved to make you laugh. Those initial baby laughs were the sound of pure joy.

I caught a glimpse of you as you ran around the yard pretending to be a professional baseball player. I remembered your tears after your first T-ball game because you were so tired and wanted to take a nap.

I caught a glimpse of you sleeping soundly in your bed with your long limbs, and feet that suddenly peak out from the bottom of the comforter. I remembered when you fit in my arms. I remembered when I would place your tiny little body into a crib and hope and pray that you would sleep for more than an hour. Now there are times I secretly wish you would wake up just to talk to me for a little while before I go to sleep.

I caught a glimpse of you. You are kind. You are smart. You are considerate. You are loving. You are a good friend. You are polite. You are gracious. You are thankful. You are curious. You are everything I imagined you would be when you first wrapped your tiny fingers around mine.

I caught a glimpse and it stopped me in my tracks because I have no idea how time could have possibly moved this quickly. As much as I loved who you were, I love who you are becoming more every day. I loved your baby feet. I loved your chubby legs. I loved your giggles. I loved the way you looked at me when I picked you up with your arms held up to the sky. I loved it all. I caught a glimpse of you though. I caught a glimpse of who you are and who you have the potential to be, and I'm excited for the next stage. I'm always going to love who you were, but I'm going to try to stop missing the stages that have passed so that I can start enjoying the stage we are in together.

One day you will understand. Parenthood is amazing, but it's hard. The hardest part is the letting go, especially when you catch a glimpse.

A Beautiful Mess

My youngest son is in first grade this year. The other day his teacher told me she had something she wanted to share with me. Immediately I thought, oh boy let’s hope it’s not too embarrassing. He’s a good kid, but he’s six years old so you know how that can go. She went on to tell me that they had been discussing heroes in class that morning. She decided to go around the room and ask each child who their hero is. Many of the kids named their firefighter father, police mom, nurse mom, veteran grandpa, and even some superheroes. When she got to my son she expected him to say my husband- after all, he is a firefighter. Instead he quickly replied, “My mom is my hero because she makes me feel safe and happy.” There I stood crying in front of my son’s teacher not because it made me sad, but because my son expressed what I have always hoped my children know. At the end of every day no matter how long or difficult the day was, I hope that my children feel loved. I hope they feel safe and I most certainly hope they feel happy.

After all that is what family is right? Family is both our armor and our cocoon from the rest of the world. Family is never perfect. Not ever. Family is messy, but it’s a beautiful kind of mess. Family is a big old mess of a morning. It is a one kid can’t find a shoe, dad ran over the garbage pail on his rush off to work, the dog stepped in the only mud puddle in the yard, and the other kid let him back in the house kind of morning. Family is mom getting her kids onto the school bus and coming back into the house to cry into her coffee about the morning she wishes she could do over. Family is the kids running off the bus in the afternoon with big smiles and hugs as if the morning is but only a blip in time on their memory, because it is.

Family is the ups and the downs. Family is dedicated to celebrating the ups and finding our way out from the downs. Family is full of surprises. Some are good and some are not. Family is sitting in a waiting room for six hours while your husband undergoes open heart surgery and praying to God that if this all works out you will most certainly be a better person, because you just can’t even begin to imagine your life without that man. Family is holding the hand of your dying Grandmother because she has done it for you from the time you were a little girl in pigtails until the day you had your very own child. Family is jumping for joy when your sister tells you she’s having a baby. It is crying when you hold that baby for the first time because somewhere in your memory bank you remember the day your parents brought her home as if it was yesterday. Family is looking at your children and feeling ever so grateful for your own parents because you realize that without them you wouldn’t be the mom you are today.

Family is sitting around the dinner table and listening to two little boys talk and talk and talk. It is catching a glimpse of my husband and promising him with my smile that we will catch up at some point. We will have time to talk to one another even if it’s as we start to fall asleep. It is listening to the stories that these little boys are telling us in the hopes that they will never stop talking to us. Family is a hug in the kitchen to remind us how important we are to each other and that talking isn’t always necessary, it’s the listening that counts. 

Family settles into the night with a story. It’s a tired mom trying to stay awake while her six-year-old reads the book because he’s so very proud. It might take longer but she knows it’s worth it. It’s a dad stressed about his day at work tomorrow but hiding it so that his nine-year-old can tell him all about the game he played at recess. Family is those two tired parents making time for one glass of wine and a five minute adult conversation. It’s a wife telling her husband not to stress and a husband telling her he’s sorry he has been so busy lately. 

Family is honest.Family shows up even when you tell them not to. Family drops everything. Family is all in. Always. With no questions asked. We figure it out, together. We fight loud but we love big. We get on each other’s nerves. We say sorry. We say I love you. We laugh. We cry. We celebrate. We grieve. We embrace the mess because somewhere within that mess lies the beauty of life. And at the end of the day no matter how good or bad it was we feel safe and happy because of the love of family. So jump in and embrace the beautiful mess. We will catch you if you fall. 

This piece was featured on the TODAY Parenting Team

Sometimes I Forget The Milk

You caught me staring. I quickly looked away. Moments later I couldn’t help but look again and immediately you saw me. I smiled. I could sense your stress. I could sense your urgency to move along as quickly as you could. I could sense that you felt you were on the clock. You fumbled in your bag for a couple of minutes and finally pulled out some crackers to hand to him while you moved along to select a couple of peppers.

It feels like yesterday that I was you. Today I move at a slower pace throughout the store than I did back then. Today I calmly choose my selections. I stop to look up a recipe on my phone and make sure I am getting all the necessary ingredients. You however, stand in front of the bagels and ask him which one he wants. He points at the blueberry and you place it in a bag for him. You lean over and kiss him gently on the forehead and he giggles. It is in that moment that I am flooded with memories. I know all too well how annoying it is to be stared at with what can only be described as the “enjoy it mama because it goes way too fast” stare. Yet here I am staring at you and thinking that exact thought.

I have no idea how I got here. As I walk down the aisles with no one to entertain with each stop of the shopping cart, I wonder where the time actually went. When I was in it I felt like I was never going to go the grocery store and remember everything I needed because someone was always crying. Luckily it was rarely me, but shopping with a baby and a toddler is pretty much the equivalent of taking the Bar exam while running a half marathon, IMPOSSIBLE. I never came home with everything I had intended to buy. I was just thankful that I came home with both of my children and that I remembered the milk.  

I remember smiling nervously at people behind me on line as my tired child began to melt down. I remember feeling like the checkout belt had to move faster than it was moving. I remember feeling like I should not be sweating so much from a simple trip to the grocery store. I remember loading groceries into the back of my SUV in the pouring rain, and strapping my youngest into his car seat all while hoping and praying that he would not in fact fall asleep on the short car ride home because I really needed him to nap. I needed him to nap so that I could unpack all the groceries and cry about the fact that I had forgotten to buy the flipping milk.

It’s not easy to be where you are. If someone tries to tell you it is they are lying, but I want you to know that despite the difficulty it is a sweet spot in time. You don’t need me to tell you that this time will pass because you know how time works, but if you will allow me just for a moment I want to tell you to get the bagel, kiss his forehead, and take a deep breath. The world will keep moving despite the fact that you forgot the milk, again. The people on line behind you will forget about the fact that your child was whining and crying the entire time you were checking out. You will look for a fast forward button more times than you can count on what seems like a simple grocery store trip. I promise you though that one day in the future you will look into your organized cart, full of food and milk, and you will miss that bagel eating buddy.

I have always known that times moves fast. Nothing proves this more though than having children. The ironic part of parenthood is that most of the time you don’t realize how much you loved a stage until that stage has passed. I have yet to encounter a stage of parenthood that I would describe as easy. They all come with challenges, but I have yet to look back upon a stage that has passed and not missed it. Sometimes it’s from a distance that we realize just how perfect that horrible, difficult stage of parenthood was. Sometimes I forget the milk just so I can go back with one of the kids after school. We might happen to stop for a bagel on those occasions. 

Let Them Feel

When I was a kid I thought my parents knew everything. By the time I was a teenager I thought they knew nothing. Now that I’m a parent I realize I was right, both times. I think knowing everything while knowing nothing is pretty much the reality of parenthood. Parenthood is basically getting thrown into the deep end of the pool and struggling to make it to the ladder.  When you feel confident and you master swimming in the deep end of the pool someone throws you into the ocean.  Parenthood is a constant struggle of convincing your kids that you do in fact know what you are doing all while doubting yourself every single day.

If you don’t doubt yourself are you really a parent?  Don’t ask me. I spend most days flying by the seat of my pants. I tuck my kids in at night and I hope that I did an OK job. That’s right an OK job. When I had my first son, the idea of being an “OK parent” was out of the question for me. I was going to be a phenomenal parent. Sure. I was swimming in the pool and I was good at it, only the pool was calm and no one else was in it. Once I had my son I realized that the pool was full of tons of other swimmers and all of those swimmers had opinions on my swimming abilities.

To be honest now that my boys are out of the baby stage I find myself wondering more than I thought I ever would if I am going to be able to navigate each new unchartered territory of water we enter. The hopeful answer is yes, but the honest answer is, I’m not always so sure. Facebook has been kind enough to remind me on the regular with my “Facebook Memories” that the baby years are long gone. Gone are the days of napping, snuggling, snacking, and giggling within our own little bubble. We are in the elementary school days now and I have to tell you, they are going faster than I could have ever imagined they would. I’m not naïve; I know middle school and high school will be here in a hot second. That’s how this parenting thing works. The days are long but the years…well the years move fast.

Lately I’ve noticed that our family is so busy that the days are flying by and the months are moving at warp speed. My oldest son is eight and my youngest is five. There is something about my eight year old that has changed in the last year. I can see that a big change is upon us. I can see that I am about to get thrown from the pool into the ocean and I’m terrified.

He’s almost nine years old. Nine. Yet somehow I can close my eyes and remember the nurse putting him on my chest like it was yesterday. I can remember his little hand wrapping around my finger. I can remember whispering to him that I would never let anything or anyone hurt him, and I meant it. There is a change in the way both my husband and I treat him now. He has shifted from being a little kid to a boy. We expect more of him. He has responsibilities around the house. He is expected to get his homework done or baseball practice will just have to go on without him. He is expected to clear his plate after dinner. We remind him about doing his best and making us proud. We tell him not to cry when he is fighting with his brother about basketball.  We tell him to toughen up. We tell him to be the big brother and give his brother a turn. We tell him not to get angry at his brother. We tell him not to cry. We flail around in the ocean making mistakes and hoping that we will be given another chance to learn how to swim.

Today I read yet another article about a heartbroken mother who lost her son to the epidemic of heroin. When I tell you it scares me I don’t really think that it accurately portrays how I worry about it. I know that no matter how much we try to protect our kids this is the one thing that can reach out and grab them without discriminating. Drugs don’t care that you took your child to toddler music classes. Drugs don’t care that your child was gifted in reading. Drugs don’t care that your child was a soccer, baseball, hockey, dancing, fill in the blank star. They don’t care. Drugs don’t care that in elementary school your child had everything going for them. Drugs don’t care that they were in the school play. Drugs don’t care that you used to be able to talk to them about anything and everything. Drugs don’t care that at one point you thought your ears were actually going to fall off from how much your child went on and on and on about anything and everything. Drugs literally don’t care about your Facebook memories.

Today when my son came home from school I talked to him for a while about his day. I took the time to listen. I really listened because if the OK parent in me is being honest, I don’t always listen. I often multitask. I look through their folders and empty their lunch boxes all while nodding along to the stories of the day.  I give my kids a snack and have them do homework. I break up fights and tell them to stop crying.

I’ve been thinking about something a lot lately. Why are we telling our kids not to feel? Maybe you’re not guilty of this. I am though. I am so guilty of this, only I didn’t even realize it. It hit me like a ton of bricks that every time we tell our kids to stop crying, to toughen up, and to stop flipping out over what my husband and I perceive to be silly, we are in fact telling them to stop feeling. We are telling them that their emotions are not worthy. Every time they tell us they are bored we try to fix it. Maybe this is some of the problem. Maybe. I say this because obviously as I walk slowly into the water from the beach I can’t possibly already know what the parents out in the deep are dealing with.

I can’t help but think that kids need to feel boredom. They need to feel still. They need to feel the difference between being busy and being relaxed.  Our kids need to feel sad. How can they ever appreciate being happy if we don’t allow them to embrace being sad? We all need a good cry every now and then. We need it. We are humans. We are meant to feel. Kids are anxious for a reason. We are telling them to stop. We are telling them to sit still, to be quiet, and to do their best. Their best? Their best is to be a kid. Their best is to be curious, anxious, sad, happy, angry, overwhelmed, silly, loud, and quiet. Their best is to be comfortable with who they are and know that we, as their parents will embrace them for it.  Drugs allow people not to feel, the question is why are so many people afraid to feel? Let’s allow our kids to feel. Let’s embrace them for it. I’m not suggesting we allow kids to cry and punch, shout or laugh through their entire day. I’m suggesting that we allow them to navigate the baby pool in the best way they know how. I am suggesting that we allow them to feel scared, that we allow them to admit they don’t know if they are ready for the deep end and when they do, it may help to tell them that we didn’t always know how to swim. 

The Picture Book

If you have a Facebook account you are well aware of the See Your Memories feature. If you don’t have an account here’s a brief rundown. Facebook gathers your memories from that particular day from a year, two, five or even six years ago and reminds you of exactly what you did that day all those years ago. OK so in the grand scheme of life five years really isn’t all that long ago. Most high schools don’t even host a five year reunion. I mean what would be the point am I right? Five years post-graduation doesn’t allow you to miss people enough to care about asking them a million questions about what they are up to now. Just me?

Unlike the President of your graduating class, Facebook doesn’t want you to miss a memory so they don’t care if it was a mere five years ago. They want you to see your memories and they hope it’s going to make you feel all the feels. Sometimes my memories make me feel nothing because it’s just a whole day of things I shared that I thought were funny, or maybe a recipe I wanted to make or a picture of a bird. Why the heck did I take a picture of a flipping bird? I apologize to all my friends. I digress. Other times Facebook succeeds and makes me feel all the feels. ALL. THE. FEELS.

This tends to happen when I haphazardly pull up Facebook on my phone while my boys are busy getting their backpacks on (also known as wrestling until I lose my mind) and BAM it’s a picture of my seven year old as a newborn. Oh it’s like a kick to the gut. Then wham a video of my almost five year old learning to crawl. OH FOR THE LOVE! I love reminiscing just as much as the next person but I can’t always handle the reminder that my boys have grown and changed faster than I thought.

You see the mornings are crazy, after school is nuts, trying to make dinner is chaotic and bedtime, oh geez I’m tired just thinking about that fiasco. So it’s not always easy to step back and take a breath. It’s not easy to think about how far my boys have come from the days of snuggles and blowout diapers. Yet here we are in a new place of wedgies and fart noises and on the days I think I can’t take one more minute, Facebook shows me a picture of them as toddlers covered in pudding and I laugh and laugh.

Every time Facebook shows me a memory I am immediately thrown back into a time when things were simpler yet somehow hard. I find myself reminded of so much more than the fact that I look older (and oh man do I), or that they look older, or that time has moved. I am reminded that with each stage of parenthood there are new challenges, new things to learn and new little people developing right in front of me. I felt so focused on their development when they were babies because that is what we are taught to do. We are taught to watch for their milestones, make sure they are pooping enough, eating enough, sleeping enough etc. Now that they are older I find myself focusing on making sure everything is done for school. I make sure they make all their activities and have a packed lunch with the appropriate number of snacks.

I stress about making the right amount of events for each of them so they both feel special and loved. I want to make sure they are both reading enough and not getting too much screen time. I want them to play outside and drink plenty of water. I want, I stress, I need and I love over these two human beings that didn’t even exist at one time in my life. I lived thirty three years without knowing them yet here I am unable to imagine living a day without them.

I have learned to love the See Your Memories feature on Facebook but the thing is I don’t need it to know what we were doing five years ago. Sure I might not remember what we were doing this exact day five years ago, but somehow when you become a parent you create a picture book in your mind. It’s an amazing feature. I go to it often. In fact today as I watched my four year old run around with his friends at a preschool sports program I remembered watching his brother do the same while I held him in my arms and fed him his bottle. As my seven year old got off the school bus today I remembered the days I used to see our neighbor’s kids do the same. One of them is a police officer now. Time moves. It moves for everyone.

The beauty of time moving for parents is the ability to see our children grow and change. My parents have a tree in their front yard that was a tiny little thing when I was little. I never noticed it growing but today it stands tall. It stands proud. It was growing all those years right in front of me. That tree grew much like my children do, day after day, year after year right in front of me. It’s the picture book in our minds that allows us to realize just how much they have grown.

I will continue to look at the memories Facebook provides me but I will forever hold onto the memories I am creating in my mind. One day I will be that old lady who tells young moms how fast it goes. Sure I hate when people say it to me, but I think that’s because I know it’s true. Parenthood is hard. Anyone who says otherwise is lying, but I look at it this way, the beginning of a great novel can move slowly. The middle feels steady and interesting. The end always goes way too fast and when you get to that last line you always wish it didn’t have to end. You often find yourself wanting to start the book all over again. I think that’s why people with grown kids always tell those of us who are in the middle of all the chaos with little ones to enjoy it. They got to the end of that great book and they would do anything to read it all over again from the beginning. We are all writing our own story and just like any great novel it will be full of ups and downs but in the end it is our story with the characters we created and just like our Facebook memories, it will be one we will look at over and over again for quite some time. 

10 Quotes from my son that scare the crap out of me

Today I am honored to have Clint Edwards of  No Idea What I'm Doing: A Daddy Blog as my guest. If you don't know him you should head over to his blog and get to know him. Clint was nice enough to have me over on his site on Friday. We may have gotten into our first fight over my bio ( I tend to go on and on and on) but we worked it out (meaning he cut the crap out of it) and we have moved on to making friendship bracelets for each other. Today he's sharing with us 10 things his son says that scare the crap out of him. (I bet we all have one of these lists)
Clint Edwards is the author of No Idea What I’m Doing: A Daddy Blog. He lives in Oregon. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter.

My son is 7. He says a lot of things that make we worry about his future, his motivations, and his hygiene. Here are a few examples.

Me: When was the last time you changed your underwear?

Tristan: I don’t know. A week or something. I don’t understand why this is a big deal.

Me: Why do you keep peeing on the floor?

Tristan (shrugs): Because it’s funny.

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Tristan: A scientist, Pokémon Trainer, or a guy that beats people up for money.

Me: Why didn’t you clean your room?

Tristan (somber scary face): Because it’s where I hide… things.

Tristan: Can you help me make a Minecraft YouTube video? I want to be like StampyLongNose.

Me: Bath night.

Tristan: (Long. Agonizing. Moan.)

Me: Calm down. You’re acting like a drug addict.

Tristan: If drugs are like sugar then that sounds fun.

Tristan: You have to be pretty old to be a dad. Like 16.

Tristan (pointing at man pushing grocery cart full of empty cans): Bet that guy makes A LOT of money.

Tristan: Why would someone give you a job?

Me: Because I went to college.

Tristan (laughing): College.

The Big Book of Parenting Tweets Valentine's Day Giveaway

It’s February and you all know what that means. It’s flipping freezing out yes, but besides that lovely fact it’s also the month of LOVE. Valentine’s Day is next week and if you are anything like me you are planning a romance filled evening. There will be flowers and lingerie and candles. Bwahahahahahahaha What? Yeah. No. Don’t get me wrong I love some good romance just like the next gal. (Magic Mike anyone or perhaps some 50 Shades of Grey) but let’s be honest once you have kids Valentine’s Day becomes a day full of Spiderman heart cards and Princess Elsa chocolates.

So how do you keep the romance alive? Well I always said I would never be with a man who did not make me laugh and I have to say I kept my word on that one. My husband and I are constantly laughing. Let’s be honest, raising kids can be a constant comedy routine. It can also be a constant pull your hair out and bang your head against the wall kind of thing so we try to choose the comedy most days. Kids are full of funny material. They say and do funny things constantly. Half the time you might not even realize it’s funny until you and your husband are lying in bed that night laughing so hard neither of you can talk.

There are also a ton of funny parents out there. This is pretty much a direct result of all the funny kids who are making said parents bang their heads against the wall. If you don’t believe me you have to give The Big Book of Parenting Tweets a read. It’s basically all the proof you need that funny parents exist wrapped up in a beautiful little book. (Did I mention I’m in it?!)

I came up with the perfect way for you to spend Valentine’s Day this year. Put those little monsters comedians to bed, open up the cocktail of your choice, make some popcorn, find a spot on the couch with your spouse and get reading. Laughter really does bring you closer.

Here is where it gets fun: A GIVEAWAY. Who doesn’t like free stuff? Hell I get excited when I open the mailbox and find a free sample of laundry detergent. I might need to get out more but I digress. Send me your funniest kid related material in 140 characters or less and you will be entered to win a FREE copy of The Big Book of Parenting Tweets signed by yours truly. I can’t promise you my signature will be worth anything one day but are you really willing to take that chance? No of course not. 

Send your funny “tweet” to me via Twitter, by commenting on this blog post or by commenting on the Facebook thread. I will then choose the top 10 and the winner will be chosen by a top secret panel of judges (okay my fellow contributors in the book).  All submissions have to be in by February 20^th. (That gives you enough time to recoup from all the Valentine’s Day romance laughter. What are you waiting for? Get writing. 

Looking to get your copy today?  It’s available on Amazon. It would make a great gift for the one you love. 

Looking for some inspiration so you can find your funny? 

The Rules of Parenting

Tonight as I was making dinner I could hear my children laughing in one of their bedrooms. They were playing and having fun and most importantly staying out of my hair while I made dinner. I decided to go see what they were up to and as I walked down the hallway I suddenly got the feeling that I wasn’t going to be happy with what I found. They weren’t in either of their rooms which meant they were in my room. As I walked in, I slipped on something slippery and landed straight on my ass. As I looked up from the floor the two of them were jumping on my bed and having what I can only describe as a baby powder/baby lotion fight. Imagine a food fight but with baby products. I know right?!

My husband was at work and I had a brief moment as I laid on the floor where I could have decided to stand up and go all Liam Neeson on them. Instead I calmly got up and said: “You will both clean this up NOW!” and I walked out.

I returned to the kitchen and did some Lamaze breathing (see I knew that crap would come in handy at some point.) I then proceeded to send a text to two of my girlfriends and I started to laugh. That’s right there I stood, knowing full well that my entire master bedroom was covered in baby lotion and baby powder and I decided to laugh. When I became a parent, okay maybe not the moment I became a parent, but at some point into my first child’s life I decided that I would have two mantras on parenthood.

1.     Laugh. Because if you don’t laugh you will cry and crying is just not a daily option over laughter.

2.     Stop taking life so seriously. No really stop.

Somehow along the way I’ve forgotten my own parenthood mantras.  I take things way too seriously and all too often I could cry in the bathroom rather than laugh in the living room. Tonight for whatever reason I remembered the promise I made to myself almost six years ago and I decided to laugh. That doesn’t mean I allowed the kids to think it was okay to act like a couple of prisoners trying to teach the warden a lesson, but it does mean that I laughed about the fact that said warden fell on her ass in a pile of Johnson & Johnson baby lotion.  I smell fresh and I’m moisturized so…win, win.

So tonight I decided I’m making a new list of parenting rules for myself. I’m printing it out and hanging it on my refrigerator because somewhere along the way I’ve let the stress take over and I’m not the mom I want to be. Feel free to print your own copy:

 

1.     Laugh. Just laugh because crying is not ALWAYS the best option.

2.     Cry if you have to. It’s okay to cry every now and then.

3.     Stop taking life so seriously. No really stop it.

4.     Allow the kids to be kids. They only get one chance at this and they will love you for it.

5.     Set boundaries for them and for you.

6.     Embrace the mess.

7.     Make time for yourself. You deserve it.

8.     Get together with your girlfriends more. They make you #1 and if for some reason you are going to #2 they will hug you and give you wine.  (The numbers refer to this list only so stop worrying about rushing off to the bathroom)

9.     Ask for help when you need it. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you finally figured out you’re not a Transformer.

10.  Take one moment every single day to breathe…just breathe and look at your kids. Really look at them. Look at them when they don’t know you’re looking and you will remember all the reasons you signed up for this gig in the first place.

 

  

Parenthood

No matter how many books you read or words of advice you receive parenthood is a just one of those things that you learn as you go. Sure we have more knowledge than people did years ago but there are just some things that books and websites can’t teach you.

Parenting experts can try to teach you all about sleep schedules and adequate tummy time. They can try to teach you about your toddler, your child, your pre-teen, your teenager and on and on and on. Much like life though, parenthood is best learned by doing it.

In the almost six years that I have been a mother I have learned so many things. It amazes me daily that I have these two beautiful, energetic boys who my husband and I made.  In that short time I have learned:

Love is endless.

Patience is not.

Worry comes with the job.

It does not however, fix things.

Children are individuals and no two are alike.

Children will change you forever in the best ways.

You will be tested in ways you never quite thought possible.

No matter what else comes your way in life they will remain your biggest success and your proudest moments.

You will drop everything for them.

You will put them first.

You will sometimes miss who you once were.

You will love your spouse in a way that is so different than you did before they arrived.

You will cry.

You will laugh.

You will doubt yourself.

You will lean on your friends.

You will talk about poop. You will.

You will hurt for them.

You will try to fix things.

You will love them.

They will love you.

Parenting is overwhelming, all encompassing, hard as hell and beautiful. It often requires tears, wine, friends, and more wine but in the end the journey is about love. The rest of the stuff is just that…stuff.  If there is one thing I have learned it's to embrace it. Embrace the mayhem. Embrace the silliness. Embrace the mess. One day the kids who are making the mess, giving you gray hair, making you laugh, cuddling with you and talking non stop will be grown and you will be left trying to write a book about the things you learned along the way.

 

Five Ways College Prepares You for Parenthood

Remember what life was like in college? I know, lack of sleep has me barely able to remember what I did yesterday but college I can remember.  Ah the care free days of partying with friends, going to class and the biggest stress being where we were going on Thursday night.  Lately I’ve been having a lot of memories of what those days were like and it’s actually funny how having kids can be so similar to those college days. I know what you’re thinking: How on earth can college be similar to raising kids? Well I will tell you: Here are the top 5 reasons having kids is exactly like being in college.

1.     College:  The all-nighter. That’s right you pulled one or 85. You blew off studying all month and then in one night you had to soak in six months of information for your exam the next day. The result:  You were in fact up all night.  You have no one to blame but yourself and beer.  You are not learning a whole semester in one night. You’re screwed!

Parenting: The all-nighter. That’s right you pulled one...times infinity. You had to do it.  No one gave you a choice. Your baby/kids won’t sleep. He or she is teething, having separation anxiety, sick, bad dreams, looking for a binky, wants a unicorn, needs a snack, needs a drink,  wants to read 865 bed time stories, it’s too hot, it’s too cold, they miss you, they heard a something that sounds like a baby deer looking for its mom. You have no one to blame. You’re screwed!

2.     College: The sloppy roommate. Everyone had one. The roommate who couldn’t pick up after themselves. The bathroom was a mess, their room was a mess, the dishes never got done, and if their friends came over you knew the house was going to be completely trashed.

Parenting:  The sloppy roommate.  We all have them. Kids are slobs. They don’t pick up after themselves. They manage to get toothpaste on the walls, the floor, the ceiling and the dog! The dishes are broken and when their friends come over the house looks like a Toys R’ Us gone wild! 

3.     College: The Drunk Idiot.  We all remember the guy or girl who just didn’t know when to say when. The night we had to make sure they got home okay and it never happened without an argument. They would argue they weren’t drunk and they wanted just ONE MORE! They were full of bad decisions that you felt responsible for. No you are not going home with that guy, trust me you do not want to eat a sandwich or anything else from that place next to the bar, yes you are talking too loud, and yup I’m pretty sure you did in fact pee your pants.

Parenting: The Toddler A.K.A The Drunk Idiot. A toddler never knows when to say when. Their whole lives revolve around too much juice followed by too much fun. There is ALWAYS an argument when it comes to sitting in a chair, getting in a car, or acting normal in public. They are always asking for ONE MORE SNACK or ONE MORE CUP OF JUICE and no matter how many times you say no they don’t want to hear it. They puke on themselves more times than you care to have to deal with and they definitely pee their pants on the regular. If it weren’t for college this stage of parenting might in fact do you in.

 

4.     College: The irrational/paranoid friend. Everyone was out to get them. They were the person who showed up to every party or event ready to start a fight. The smallest of things sent them off and there was no getting them back at that point. After an argument with them you would feel completely drained for days.

Parenting: The irrational/paranoid child.  Life isn’t fair. Everyone is out to get them. You are the worst parents on the planet for using the two letter word NO. How dare you say NO! No? Who says NO? After a child/toddler tantrum I feel completely drained for days…okay maybe weeks!

5.     College: The roommate who refuses to allow anyone to hook up EVER. They are somehow always home, or early to bed, or in the middle of watching a movie, are suddenly having 12 of their closest friends over at 1am or worst case scenario are crying in the corner over their latest breakup.

Parenting: Children refuse to sleep in order to prevent you from making any other children.  They are in fact always home, late to bed, early to rise, wake up in the middle of the night, and will cry in the corner on cue.

All joking aside in the end I loved college. It was a short amount of time that I thought would last forever. I spent it with amazing people and  I accomplished more than I realized I could. I don't doubt that parenthood isn't pretty much the same.