Recently, a friend commented that she cried every time she read my blog. While I know she totally meant to compliment, I realized something. I've been a little too heavy on the sentimental side lately. It's be a deep few months full of meaning and metaphors and paying it forward stuff. So, I decided to lighten it up a bit. So, sit back, my friends, grab some tissue (or some Depends), and prepare to laugh until you leak, at my expense, of course…
Confession 1. My childrens' television time probably far exceeds the recommended amounts suggested by the AAP. I know; I should repent. Sam, specifically, is a movie addict. In fact, he has a freakish ability to quote movie lines with accuracy and clever timing. Like the time he waited until we caught up to the biggest guy in Kroger and proceeded to say "You idiot, you're leading us in circles!" just like Elliott does in the movie, Open Season. Being in public was the only thing that kept his highly embarrassed daddy from losing his religion on that sweet baby. Oh, how I wish I was kidding.
Confession 2. Fruit Snacks = Breakfast of Champions in our house. My boy will move mountains for a fruit snack. And by "move mountains" I mean wake up, get dressed, and out the door with a motivated pace and a happy heart IF fruit snacks are in his breakfast future. And, while I know they are filled with high-fructose corn syrup and motivating my children with food is a no-no, sometimes I risk it for morning compliance from the three-year old.
Confession 3. Most parents will readily admit that before arriving to a location they have a quick talk in the car reviewing "the rules" for when they arrive. Listen and obey. Use good manners. Yes ma'am. No sir. Yadda Yadda. But, perhaps the part less mentioned is that fact that moms of young boys must also review whether it is/is NOT okay to pee outside at this location. Working at the farm? Yes. Our own back yard. Discreetly. The church parking lot. Definitely not. (Learned a little too late that one is not universally understood.) A friend's backyard birthday party. Please, dear baby, hear me when I say NO.
Confession 4. Around here, Thursday and Friday are "Dress Yourself" days, meaning little man is free to choose whatever he wants to wear and dress himself. Mainly because by Thursday I've given up on trying to match or even be season appropriate. The risk I take with "dress yourself" day is that Sam may or may not have on underwear. (Also learned that one is not universally understood about five minutes into our morning ride to preschool.) Did I turn around like a supermom would? Nope. I taught him a new vocabulary word and kept on truckin. Commando.
Confession 5. I am guilty of posting syrupy sweet photos on Facebook of my kids and my family, like these:
Do I post these photos to spark a riveting "mompetition" or create a false image of a blissfully perfect family? Heavens, no. I post the pics because it's a flippin' miracle! You see, I know how many "outtake" shots it took to get these few wall worthy photos of my wiggly, spirited brood. Outtake shots like these - accurate of who we are, but not quite what I envisioned above the fireplace.
So, you better believe when any of my friends post sweet pics of kiddos or homemade creations they somehow carved out enough time to make, I'm gonna be a "like" button clickin' motor scooter because I know what a miracle it is for them too. Encouraging mommas, unite!
Confession 6. Okay, I'll admit it. Having kids was the best thing that ever happened to my gift-giving capabilities. Give the kids a paint brush or slap a handprint on it, and Viola! Merry Christmas, grandparents! Here is our latest gift brainstorm session:
Me: Sam, what does PawPaw need for his birthday?
Sam: I think he needs a new "boohoo."
Me: What's a "boohoo"?
Sam: One of these! (holding up a paper towel roll he just plucked from the trash can) It's called a boohoo because when you put your mouth on the end of it and say, "BOOHOO" it's really funny!
Did I mention he's a genius!? Decorate with markers, and BAM! Pawpaw gets a boohoo. Nailed it!
Confession 7. I sometimes nearly lose my mind when the trophy husband says, "I'm going to play in a golf tournament this weekend, then I'm planning to go fishing with your dad on Monday." As if he can't read my mind that I could really use just a bathroom break alone, or a blow up mattress in the closet with a lock on the door. Or, dare I say, a trip to the grocery store by myself. But, he can't read my mind. So, I've been known to go into blubbering mess mode complete with tears and snot and flailing motions to get my plight across. It isn't pretty. So there you go moms, if you've every gotten to this point too, you're not alone.
Confession 8. If I ever get my hands on that pesky "one shoe monster" it won't be pretty and it probably won't be Christian. You know, the one who shows up 10 minutes before you need to leave the house for church or work and strategically hides only ONE of your childrens' shoes? Everything is going great, one shoe completely on and tied, and then the search begins, to no avail, of course. In minutes, my blood pressure can reach stroke levels over a missing squeaker sandal. Over reacting? Probably, but everybody has a hot button. Namaste, ok.
Confession 9. Who has two thumbs and needs God's grace by the boatload…this girl! This mom gig is tough, and we need each other. Mommas, Nanis, Kimmies, Grammies, Grandmoms, Mimis, Aunties. It takes every last imperfect one of us. Sticking together. Encouraging each other. Praying for one another. Being honest with each other.
So, happy Mother's Day to all who raise up the little ones, as best we can, imperfections and all. While you may be like me and fall short of the Mom-of-the-Year requirements, remember, you are somebody's superhero, just the way you are.
