Thank You, Husband

Today is Heath's birthday.

If he ever has a hard time getting older, he doesn't let on much. He has this amazingly optimistic outlook on life, more often than not. He told me that he is just thankful to be here another birthday and that he doesn't want a thing to celebrate it. Well, I do have a surprise for him, that I won't spoil here. However, I think one of the most important things I can do for him is to tell him that I love him, and "Thank you!"

Honestly, I don't even know where to begin. Heath does so much for me and is such a part of me that I honestly forget that he is another person sometimes. I sometimes think of him as just an extension of me. He is just always there, and I know how he thinks and feels (usually), without him even having to tell me. We truly grew up together - forming our personalities, values, morals, etc., all along side each other. He is my confidant, and the person I pick my zits in front of, who sees me without makeup and without a bra - standing! (Yes, it's a big deal to me, because these babies are sad, sad, sad...)

I often stumble into the bathroom after a hard nights sleep, wiping the drool off my cheek, and leaving the door wide open to pee. When I finally catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I wonder why Heath isn't half-way to Mexico, to find himself some hot seniorita. Instead, he is stuck with me. In fact, he chooses to be with me. I don't mean to be self-deprecating; but, I think several of us wonder how our families put up with us most of the time.

Heath truly puts me and the kids above himself. It is an envious trait. He rarely does anything selfish, and I mean that. If he does, you can guarantee that it was unintentional. Every morning he thinks about what he can do to make all of us happy, healthy, and feel loved. It makes him a wonderful husband and father. He is truly one of the best dads out there; fight me on it.

Now, I may suck at apologizing. I really do. But, I say "thank you" a lot. I think I say it so much that it has started to lose its value. Just yesterday, Henry and I decided to go get chips and guacamole from the local Mexican food place. I sent Heath a photo of Henry and later called him to tell him, "Thank you." You see, Heath is in the middle of a very stressful season at work. This past couple of weeks have been the most stressful and exhausting for him at this company. We have all been a bit grumpier, sleepier, and snappier. So, for me to be able to stay at home with Henry, and even go out for chips and guacamole in the middle of the afternoon, could easily make Heath envious, or even bitter. I am sure that he was a bit envious, I mean he is only human; but, his only comment was, "I'm glad that you guys are able to go do stuff like that."

I truly owe my happiness to him.

Me staying at home and teaching online part-time - that was all a very big decision for us to make as a family. It was a decision that I struggled with and will probably address more as time goes on. But, I never take a second of it for granted. In the past three years, I am happier than I ever have been in my adult life. I know that it is because Heath has helped me make several of my dreams come true.

So, Heath, thank you for putting up with me. With us. With my love for dogs, and for not taking my shoes off when I come in the house. And, thank you for putting up with my love for cheese on all of our meals, and the dollars I spend on coffee creamer. Thank you for letting me sleep in on the weekend, even if it is only for a couple of hours (wink). Thank you for cleaning the hair balls out of the shower drain, and telling me that I look beautiful when my eczema flairs up. Thank you for accepting my mom-bod, and for letting me be the most uptight person you know. Thank you for so, so much.

I love you. Thank you for choosing me.

Stressing for the Sake of Kids

Once upon a time I had one child in elementary, one in preschool, and one that was lovingly attached to my leg most days. I got up in the morning, barely put myself together, got the two older ones around, and maybe found a pair of Uggs to walk to the garage and get into the van. I buckled the youngest one in, who may or may not have been in his pajamas still, from the night before. At our school drop off, we were impressing no one.

During that time in my life, we also lived in a home that was a bit outdated and in need of a Johanna Gaines-type overhaul, but was completely maintenance free. It was new enough to be clean and nice; but old enough to have peach grout and honey oak everything. I had done all that I felt I could with that home, and cleaned almost daily. Also, I was not involved on any local Boards or teaching online yet. So, my cleaning schedule was fairly easy to maintain. And, yes, I had a cleaning schedule... (I heart organization.)

Do you have a clear photo in your mind of what my days were like? I actually had plenty of time to do things. Time to enjoy my kids before they were involved with numerous things themselves.

So, when Red Ribbon Week came around back then, and the school released the themes of each day, we went all out. We busted out the markers, old t-shirts, tulle, ribbons, and glue gun, and we made costumes. I remember that Lucy loved it and even told me on one such day, "Today is going to be epic." Whew! What expectations, right? When is the last time you got your hair done and that was enough to make the rest of the day "epic?" It meant a lot to her.

Fast forward to now. I am teaching three courses online, involved with one Board officially, one unofficially, helping out with the kids' activities, and am in the middle of a complete home renovation (different house, which we took down to the studs). I'm not saying that I am any busier than any other Mom. I am probably less so than most. Nevertheless, compared to two years ago, I am swamped.

We received the Red Ribbon Week schedule again this year. They had cut down on theme days; I believe it to be the voice of parents who implemented such a change. Only three days this time, and they were fairly simple (or so it would seem).

Today, Tuesday, was superhero day. I am sure this day was chosen as an easy option, as most kids have superhero gear already. But, sadly, we do not. Heath and I liked the Batman movies when we were kids, and who didn't love Captain Planet, etc.?! But, we have not gotten much into the Marvel comic characters or superheros, as adults. We saw Deadpool and that's about it... Naturally, this translates to our children and they do not watch much of that stuff or have clothing representative of it either. That meant, to participate, I would have to be creative. Ugh! I love being crafty...when I have time. But, last night, was a busy night. I had a board meeting, and Lucy and I had practice. I still needed to complete a few items for the courses that I am teaching, and write a letter for another Board. It was a chaotic Monday, whether typical or not.

So, when Lucy asked about the "Superhero outfits" at approximately 9 PM, I didn't know what to say really. I wanted to say, "Nah, we aren't going to do it." It wasn't even that I had these spectacular ideas and didn't have the energy to execute them. I really didn't have a clue how I could "create" superheros from literally nothing. Cut t-shirts into capes? Glue an emblem on the front of an old shirt? No idea.

I did what any mom would do; I dismissed Lucy, told her to get to bed, and finished my to-do list with multiple huffs and swigs of caffeine. It wasn't until I poured myself into bed at midnight that I thought, "What am I going to do about super-hero day tomorrow?" I was kind of irritated with my younger self, for setting the bar so high, dammit. But, the kids loved it and I knew that I simply couldn't tell them to forget about it. Lucy would undoubtedly tell me that she was "the only one who wasn't dressed up." I know that it wouldn't be true, but the guilt would feel like it was.

I quickly searched Pinterest for a few ideas, came up with some possibilities and prayed (not literally) that I could find everything I needed in the morning. Zzzzz.....

When my alarm went off this morning, I wanted to hit snooze. I am a big fan of the snooze button. I start my alarm almost an hour before I need to get up, just so I can hit snooze multiple times (about six times, actually). The only thing that got me out of bed was Red Ribbon Week, Superhero Day...

Thankfully I found a Batman shirt that my mom bought Henry, and a mask that my sister bought him. Typical boy - he was set. Easy peasy. Then, the girls...By some miracle from God, they each had black pants, black shirts, and black shoes that FIT and were CLEAN. Hallelujah! I quickly threw on some cat ears for Olive, a random blue cape for Lucy, and we were well on our way to Cat Woman and a female Batman. Olive had no clue who Cat Woman was, but went along with it, as I knew she would.

After searching for face paint, I came up with just one little black pen. It had to work. I drew masks on the girls and held my breath, while they stood in front of the mirror.

"I love it," they said. And, I knew my status as "Awesome Momma" was safe.

I somehow managed to be successful today, with Red Ribbon Week - theme day number 1. But, it was not without shortness, and complaining, and irritation, and telling Olive the same thing five times. Or, saying, "Hold still!" to Lucy enough times to make me blue in the face. It was accompanied by "hurry up"s and "we are gonna be late!"s. It was a very grumpy, rushed, stressful morning.

I sit back now and wonder. Will they remember the "awesome" costumes and face paint that Momma helped them with for school? Or, will they remember that Momma was a freakin' psycho this morning, who wouldn't stop rolling her eyes, huffing, and asking, "Why aren't you doing what I said?!"

Of course, in those moments, we think the important thing is the day. The task at hand. If we can just get to school on time, dressed up, I will be successful. But, is that true? If I am a complete asshole in the process, is it really being successful? And, successful at what exactly? I'm praying that the joy of what today brings will erase the memories of their stressed out, jerk-of-a-Momma.

It's funny, right? You think you are doing something great for your kids, but in the process are not being a great example... I believe we do that a lot as parents. We stress out trying to create these amazing memories for our kids; but, we often run the risk of their memories being about our stress instead. Aren't several of your own memories about your parents, just them being completely fed up with you and your siblings on trips and vacations? Yeah. They were just trying to do something nice for us and it was incredibly stressful.

Tomorrow's theme is "orange day."

Friday is "red day."

I think I can handle those...

Own Worst Enemy

Lucy has been fully immersed into math this year. She has optional math homework almost every night. And, of course, her mean mother makes her actually do it. She isn't thankful; but, I hope to someday be the very emotional center of a 'thank you speech,' given in front of a very large crowd.

First, let me say this, I feel like the way we did math in the 90s was so much easier. But, that is just me talking...I still try to go through the homework with her, following the instructions. Right now, I am trying to impress upon Lucy the importance of reading, understanding, and following the directions. Personally, I believe that will help her more in life than some of the lessons themselves. She has been doing subtraction, where you draw pictures of the number. For example, if you have 374, you would draw three cubes that represent 100 blocks each, seven columns that represent ten blocks each, and four single blocks. Then, you cross out numbers and borrow from the others to cover the "overage," etc. I don't recall doing it in elementary.

Here is the thing...Lucy knows how to subtract. She knows just "normal" subtraction. But, we are following directions. So, she is trying to draw these pictures below her math problems, trying to cross them out, and keep track of all the little cubes, columns, and dots. She ended up having such sloppy drawings that she was getting the problems wrong. She became very frustrated, knowing that they were wrong (since she knows how to get the answer the usual way). I kept telling her to write more neatly and erase her lines all the way, to not confuse herself. Finally, after trying to calm her down, I said, "You are your own worst enemy." If she took her time, she would have no problem. I knew she could do it.

Later on, I realized that I am probably my own worst enemy as well. Aren't we all? I mean, really?

Most of the time, I like to blame "society." It's an easy scapegoat. Society makes us feel ugly, fat, less worthy, like we are failing, like we aren't doing enough, and so on. I could literally write an entire blog post about how society makes me feel. But, I'm reminded again that I am in control of my own feelings. Was it Eleanor Roosevelt who said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent"?

I came to this conclusion while...what else? Mommin.

Heath ended up having an impromptu board meeting last night, and it ended up going much later than we all expected. It is hard to describe the frustration I get when I have a clear plan in my mind of how things are gonna work and then things change without me knowing. It is the dumbest, most anal thing. But, I am so incredibly uptight, it makes me ca-razy! Type A to the core. So, I had to clean up supper, keep the kids entertained for a while, bathe the kids, do the bedtime routine, etc. by myself. It's not that big of a deal, except 1) I hadn't planned on it and was not mentally prepared to do so, and 2) the kids were being awful!

You know what I mean when I say the kids were being awful. For us, it is usually Thursdays. It is like the kids are finally all worn out from the week and decide to clog their ears with metaphorical cotton balls, hit each other with anything within arms reach, and cry if you even look at them wrong. But, instead, the kids chose last night to do this. It was one of those nights where you empathize with the alcoholic, stay-at-home mothers of the 60s. You know what I mean?

I was being so hard on myself about it all. I was trying to do something as a family. I was forcing it; but, the kids wouldn't stop fighting. And, Olive wouldn't clean up the living room, after emptying the toy bin. And, Lucy wouldn't put her shoes away, and Henry wouldn't stop picking on the dogs. I was at my wit's end. I thought, " Wait a minute...I'm my own worst enemy too."

Maybe tonight we don't do something as a family. So, I split the kids up and made them go to different rooms. And, I said, forget it with Olive's toys; I am literally looking at them right now as I type this. But, I will have her clean them up after school, when she is in a better, more agreeable mood (and I am too!). And, I put the dogs in their kennels to just change Henry's focus.

I think we get wrapped up in these ideas of how things are "supposed" to go. I know that I do. I have these ideas in my mind about spending time together and making the kids get along, and limiting screen time. But, just as my kids choose to completely lose their minds one night a week, I will just plant their butts in front of YouTube videos and grab myself a little bit of sanity. Why do we continue to push our own agenda, when it clearly isn't working out? Why do I continue to push my own agenda that I designed around societies "image" of how an evening at home is supposed to look?

We are our own worst enemies.

For me, I just have to remind myself that some days the fight is not worth it. It doesn't have to be every day. But, some days, we all just need a day to throw our arms in the air and say,
"whatever..."