The Good Wife's Guide

This is an actual article from Good Housekeeping 1955.  Wow!  I won't say I disagree with the entire concept, but let's just say, I'm NOT a good wife!

Sarcastic Optimism

For the most part, I am an optimist at heart.  Definitely a "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade" kinda person.  There may be war, natural disasters and an economic depression going on around me, but I prefer to keep life in my little bubble pretty upbeat.  I smile at strangers and talk to the Wal-mart greeter (because Lord knows they aren't going to speak first).  In the evening, I pick out clothes for the next day for myself and my children because, I am quite certain, there will be a tomorrow.

I tend to balance this "life is a bowl of cherries" attitude with a hint of sarcasm.  Let's face it, when you wake up to room full of poop paintings by your enthusiastically artistic two year old, it's hard to jump up and say, "It's gonna be a great day!"  I've heard it said that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit and have been criticized by friends and family in the past for my sarcastic tone (usually encompassing descriptions of motherhood).  No doubt my mommy brain has been sucked clean of all intellectual ability,   However, your inability to understand my humor should more adequately reflect your inferior intellect.  I would rather depict my life in a humorous tone than to wallow  in self pity and criticism of others.  I would much rather exchange poop jokes than potty training tips.  It's just they way I am, take me or leave me.

So, I leave you with this pearl of wisdom:  "When life hands you lemons, squeeze them into your eyes to blind you from the horror ahead."

If Mama Ain’t Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy

It has been a trying couple of days, weeks, months.  With hubby's work schedule in overtime, I have been barely keeping my head above water these days.  The kids have pushed me to the limit and I am drowning in half-finished tasks and housework.  I've noticed an unusual amount of yelling in our home lately.  Mommy has been...well, cranky, to say the least.  Today, when I dropped both kids off at school, I should have gone home and worked endlessly in the child-free environment.  However, I did not.  I did the unspeakable.  I took (gasp) a day off!  I grabbed by purse (the small one, not the duffle bag filled with sippy cups, snacks and wet wipes) and headed out the door.  I kidnapped my also overworked, under-appreciated cohort, Tina, and we headed out on the town.  A child-free breakfast in a quaint little bistro, followed by two hours of child-free pampering at the nail salon, a child-free lunch and a little boutique shopping (with no whining or pawing of sticky little fingers).  Just what the doctor ordered.  I am a much happier Mommy this evening.  The fact that I burned my dinner because of a popsicle emergency, barely phased me.  So what if I slipped and fell because someone had a tea party in the dog water.  (Picturing my happy place...hot stone leg massage)  Dog vomit, not a problem.  The dishwasher door is slammed shut by my helpful two year old, gashing open my shin...okay, perhaps I need a week off!

Signs you need a mommy day off:

• You schedule a pap smear just to lie down for a few moments in a child-free zone.
• You wonder just how long the kids could hold their breath underwater in the bathtub.
• You pick up the wooden spoon and everyone in the household runs in terror.
• You pull into the garage and debate whether or not to turn off the car.
• After a whole house search for the book you’ve been reading, you find it in the refrigerator next to a nearly empty bottle of wine.

Too Much Dr. Seuss

Image re-posted from:
http://childrensbooksguide.com/fun/
one-fish-two-fish-red-fish-blue-fish

It is no secret to my family and closest friends that I tend to talk to myself…a lot (and sometimes with a British accent). I have full on conversations with myself while getting ready in the mornings. Sometimes playing out possible conversations or confrontations with other people. Sometimes just making a verbal to-do list for the day. When in the car alone, I like to converse with myself in the rear view mirror and sing the wrong lyrics to songs on the radio as loud as possible.

Our nightly routine of bedtime stories with my children usually consists of a Dr. Seuss book or two. I can recite One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish and There’s a Wocket in My Pocket almost word for word by memory. Lately, I have noticed my usual mumblings to myself have taken on a rhyming tone. Like this one composed while folding laundry tonight:

One sock, Two socks, No sock, Missing sock

This one has a little hole.

This one must go, go, go.

This one’s partner has run away.

This one was white and now it’s gray.     

                                                         

Yep, it’s time for a straight jacket.

I do not like the way I am.

I think motherhood is a scam.

I can’t remember anything.

All I do is sing, sing, sing.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G

Next time won’t you sing with me?

My clothes are stained. My hair’s a mess.

My hair is falling out from stress.

McDonalds PlayPlace everyday,

My thighs weren’t meant to look this way.

Fast food prison, set me free.

A size 4 is what I’d like to be.

Yoga pants will have to do,

Until I lose a pound or two.

I do not like this lack of sleep.

It’s not working counting sheep.

Perhaps I’ll clean the house instead,

Before I lay down my head.

I’ll count the toys I put away,

Strewn about from all day play.

I’ll sneak a peek at little ones all snuggled in their beds,

With 15 toys around their heads.

Sleeping angels they appear to be

And for a moment I agree.

My morning begins again at 6 o’clock

And the crankiness is no shock.

We are not morning folk, you see

Coffee at sunrise is not for me.

And so the day’s routine begins,

Brushing teeth and wiping chins.

I’ll do it all again today

Wash and clean and sing and play.

And though motherhood may have fried my brain,

And I may be found legally insane,

I wouldn’t change a thing

No matter what today may bring.

Without a doubt, I am profoundly blessed

And being a Mommy is what I love best.

I'm So Over

I’m SO over this getting up with the birds stuff. Every morning when the alarm goes off at 6:00am, I want to sling it across the room and hide under the covers. Since my son prefers to sleep in, I have become accustomed to getting breakfast for my daughter, turning on cartoons for her and going back to bed. For the next couple of hours I lay there with closed eyes and answer “yes” to requests for anything she asks for before I want to get up…television, video games, marshmallows, you name it. However, with the commencement of the school year, this early morning laziness has now come to a halt. Now with drooping eyes and dragging ass, I scurry about packing lunches, picking out clothes, brushing teeth. Ugh! And forget about sleeping in on the weekend too. Once a two year old’s internal alarm is set for 6:00am, it’s all over!

I’m SO over mopping my floors. With two small children, two dogs and a husband, is it really worth the effort? Last Monday, I spent two hours sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, and steam cleaning every room in the house. You could eat off of them. Not five minutes later, I walk into the dining room to find my son shaking his “no spill” sippy cup of apple juice all over. Today, after another deep cleaning session, I turn around to see a shredded, soiled diaper littering the hallway and bathroom floors. Nope. No more. Next time I'll save my energy and take the open bottle of bleach into the closet and just sniff till I pass out!

I’m SO over Wal-mart. Enough said.

I’m SO over multi-tasking. Is it too much to ask to be able to do one thing at a time? As a mom, I am well trained in juggling activities. I have become all too familiar with eating dinner at the dryer while folding clothes. I can dislodge a matchbox car from what ever it is stuck in without ever looking away from my computer screen. I can carry on a phone conversation while refereeing my children in isle four of the grocery store. But is two minutes of “quiet time” on the toilet an unreasonable request? Must I truly negotiate peace and direct all household activities by yelling at the top of my voice from the throne? Before I even sit down, I hear screaming followed by the parade of little ones bombarding the bathroom. Why is it everyone is starving at this particular moment? Did the dog wait for me to walk out of the room before he ate my son’s Pop Tart? Must I find Strawberry Shortcake’s hat this very minute? Maybe one day I will get to poop in peace. Until then, that “whoosh” sound you hear next time we talk, that’s the sound of a multi-tasking mommy.

My Oh, My! How Time Flies!

The frequency of my posts may be some indicator of how busy life is these days. As the kids grow older and older before my eyes, we rush to and fro checking off milestones, it seems, on a daily basis now. I look at my "babies", now 2 and 4 years old, and wonder where did the time go?

Bucket has now officially entered the ranks of kindergarten. Though she is one of the youngest in her class, she seems so grown up. I walked her to class the first day with a lump in my throat and holding her little hand so tight. I watched as she sat down at her desk and began immediately to befriend the little girl beside her, totally oblivious to my presence. I kissed her goodbye and walked out. She smiled and waved, completely prepared to take on her day. Now, I am not a helicopter mom by any means, but separation anxiety set in. How could this happen? How is my baby girl so grown up? I am excited for Megan to begin this next stage of her life. No doubt it will be enjoyable doing things with one child in tow and spending quality time with Jackson, but I truly miss her.

Now that I have survived the emotional turmoil of the first week, we are concentrating on making our new routine more, well, routine. We are NOT morning people, nor will we ever be. The early morning wakeup has taken a physical toll on me. I'm praying that 6:00a.m. becomes easier every day. I'm happy to report that we haven't been late for school once all week (a sincere concern of my husband's).

The boy is truly a BOY now! Running, jumping, climbing...he is never still. Dirt just hangs off of him and a crust seems to form in various places on his body. I'm finding rocks in the dryer and hot wheels in my dishwasher. Yesterday, I followed a trail of muddy little footprints leading from the dog water on the patio, through the kitchen, and down the hall to the bathroom. He must have known what he had done and logically, was cleaning his feet with toilet water and the bath mat. Jackson is now in preschool two days a week. My separation angst wasn't quite as bad leaving him at preschool as he went periodically through the summer. And after all, he is the second child. Why wouldn't he get shafted?

Potty training has inevitably begun, despite my best efforts. With Megan, I was so excited to begin her training. Dreaming of days without diapers, we began before she was two years old. Being the stubborn child that she is, she took her sweet time and was nearly three before going in the potty. Number two is exciting, of course, but there just isn't as much time as there used to be because you're divided - your attention is divided, your patience is divided, your threshold for crap is divided (though, miraculously, not your love...that doubles). However, Jackson has decided he is ready and pulls his pants down at every opportunity (already the little man). He pooped on the potty for the first time today. I proceeded to cheer and jump up and down congratulating him on his victory. He flushed the potty and trotted out to get his reward (candy) and went on about his day. It may have been a fluke, but at least it's a step in the right direction.

At the end of each day, before complete and utter exhaustion sets in, I am thankful for my little blessings and the fleeting moments that burn precious memories onto my heart.