Release Me, Opihi.

Kids come in all shapes, sizes and personalities. People with multiple kids may also experience a vast difference between their children in terms of personality traits and temperaments (say vast difference too fast and it sounds like vas deferens, which is a totally different subject. Ok. Ok. I'm getting totally off track here!)

I happen to be a parent with two kids that has one of each. One with a more calm nature and the other is...well...just not as calm. Don't get me wrong, I love them both to bits and smithereens. One just makes me question my sanity a little more than the other at this current stage in parenting game. Never a dull moment type of thing.

We've experienced some major life transitions in the last year. Their Dad and I went through a divorce. Correction- still going through one. We moved away from the only home they've ever known, and while we LOVE our new digs at the Blu Berry Bungalow, moving is still a major adjustment for little people. Well during all this chaos my little Gremmy Gremlin Leah decided to take a turn for the stage 5 clinger status and become absolutely obsessed with me. I'm not talking the oh I love my Mommy phase. It's more like when she looks at me I can hear her say IF YOU LEAVE ME I WILL FIND YOU! Quick! Name that movie!?

Well find me is just what she does. I can't move an inch without her noticing. It's like parental prison, the Pingul State Penitentiary. We started calling her Opihi. Opihi's are little mollusks that cling to sea rocks. I'm her sea rock in this scenario in case you were wondering. She's there when I pee. When I change. When I move into another room. When I breathe... It's not like she's just there lingering either, most of the time she is crying/screaming if some sort of me isn't physically attached to her. She screams like shes injured if im not in her sight. We even have to snuggle a certain way so that she can have as much of me intertwined with her as possible.

She is the Alcatraz of snuggles. There is no way out.

I've recently started looking at daycare options for her and went to tour one today. I had a feeling she wasn't going to be thrilled, but I didn't expect what went down this afternoon.

We walk into a room full of kids perfectly quiet and sitting still eating a snack of sauteed cabbage. It was like viewing a still painting of something you don't see often, or seeing pictures on Facebook of your friends kids being absolute angels while yours are off rubbing feces on the walls. (That doesn't actually happen in my house, but you catch my drift.) She seemed ok. My anxiety for how she will react fades somewhat and I start to wonder why I was so worried. The woman asks that I see how she will do with me leaving the room.

Leah's world pretty much ended at that moment. Screams. Stomps. Fake cries. HOLD ME MOM! NO PUT ME DOWN! COME OUTSIDE! COME INSIDE! THIS IS BORING HERE! LEEEEETTTTS GOOO! Then she randomly started screaming MY BUTT, MY BUTT!

I'm starting to sweat and we continue to tour anyways. I chew her out in my head while begging her to be good at the same time. Don't ruin this for Mommy sweetie, I need to work a little more and you REALLY need some friends. Please be good and then meltdown in the car later. Nothing seems to work so we finish our chat and head out. The kind woman says goodbye to Leah and Leah decides to roll her eyes and give her a very nice scowl.

As a parent, you can sometimes help explain a kids behavior. Oh, she had 18 fruit snacks today or she didn't nap. I was at a loss. Leah is a very smart little tyke and I know she needs some friends and a good structured setting, outside of the home. But hot damn! She got me today.

We get into the car and the tears instantly fade. She says "That was fun Mom, but I don't want friends." Then passed out within 30 seconds.

Fun?! For who kiddo?! I maybe cried, just for a second, because I got played. BIGTIME.

I got 18 new wrinkles today, I pitted out in my shirt and I thoroughly enjoyed a strawberry smash after the kids went to bed tonight. What is a strawberry smash you ask? It's really not that important, just know contains vodka. 

While I'm well aware that Leah will probably adjust fine once she gets comfortable, it doesn't make the process of getting there any easier. The only alternative is to wear one of those velcro bodysuits and have her hang on me all day while I pretend to work and be an average adult.

Respect Yo Motha'..... Or Your Baby Mama

So Mother's Day was this past weekend and I'm a Mom. GO ME!!!! I was told Happy Mother's Day by so many. Not just in slightly annoying group texts either, but personal messages and phone calls just to me from people I like having in my life. I was also well loved by my littles.

That was awesome.

I was able to spend the day with my Mom, Kids, and Sister as well.

That was awesome.

However for some reason the one person I wanted to hear from the most, said nothing. I'm actually really shocked that not hearing from my ex (but not ex yet) husband bothered me the way it did. Most of the time I don't want to hear from him, so maybe he knew that and was granting my wish? On second thought, probably not.

Can't lie....That wasn't all that awesome.

I don't really know why my feelings were hurt by his failure to say 3 simple words to the mother of his kids, but they were. Since we aren't exactly the best of friends these days I would've settled for a "I really wish you'd go kick rocks and I want to stomp on your hobbit feet with my cleats, but hey, Happy Mother's Day. Thanks for giving me our girls." Shoot maybe he was super busy with all his other commitments today and didn't have time? Which could be true, but we face-timed with our girls Sunday night and there wasn't even the SLIGHTEST mention, half smile, or nod tossed my way on this day set aside for us Moms. I know how thoughtful you can be, I used to be your wife. I don't expect any of that grade A thoughtfulness now, seeing we aren't a couple any longer. Just a simple thanks. I mean, it was me that pushed those precious girls out of my hoo-ha last time I checked. Last year I saw the nice things you did for the new person in your life and I'm sure it was a huge hit. You know what? That's great, keep being thoughtful. Don't worry, I did keep the card you had the kids write me on scrap paper. 

Throw me a friggin bone here dude.

I may not like you all that much but I wouldn't be able to celebrate this day as a parent, nor would you on yours, if we weren't in this together as a Mother and Father. I'm not asking you to dig back into your mind to happier times and get all sappy, telling me about all the wonderful things I do as a Mother. I'm not asking for diamonds, I have them. I'm not even asking for flowers, I can buy my own. I just wanted to hold onto the last shred of anything positive we could have together as we continue to raise our girls and that's respect for each other as parents, not as people. I promise I won't get the wrong idea if you were to tell me Happy Mother's Day or something of the like. You know what I would do? Say thank you. It will always mean the most coming from you because WE created life, twice. That connection between us and our girls can never go away, even if we wish the other person would.

I may be short, like really really short, but today I found that I stood tall. I stood tall because I have it in me to thank you for being a Dad to our girls. We don't get along, but I can set that aside to give ya a simple shout out. It's called separating. Grown ups have to do it often in life.

So I would like to take a minute and thank myself for being an awesome Mom! I would like to thank myself for being brave enough to step out on my own into the unknown in hopes for a better future for the girls and I. For not staying out of fear or uncertainty even though I knew it wasn't right. For making a change before I lost who I was as an individual and a parent. For finding 80 million reasons to love my kids everyday, even when I feel it's literally raining bird shit on my ginger locks. For being able to love my kids and be annoyed with them at the same time. For being able to admit my shortcomings and celebrate my parental wins. For having the strength to wipe my children's asses all the live long day. (Longest phase in parenting so far seems to be the wiping of the ass.) Most of all, for slowly realizing that even though I'm grateful for all the constant love and support I have from family and friends, I have to remember to give myself a pat on the back sometimes.

I know that as time goes on it will sting a little less if you never thank me on Mother's Day, or any day for that matter. I just hope that in time we go onward and upward with each other as parents vs down and out. I hope that even if we never find a way to get along (which I hope isn't the case) that we BOTH can show appreciation for each other as parents. Because at the end of the day, it shows our girls that even if we aren't together, together we love them.

So respect yo Motha'. Or in this case, your baby Mama.

The Grapes of Wrath...No Skins Edition.

Kids are the greatest. Being a parent is the truly the most rewarding thing on the planet. Each day I'm amazed by my daughters. To be able watch them learn, grow and adapt to life is really just flippin awesome. But then.....

Just as I'm lost in thought about how lovely being a parent is, (and it is) my 2.75 year old sashays out of the kitchen, turns around, puts her hand up signaling stop and asks for a bowl of grapes.... NO SKINS PLEASE. I like my grapes Mom, just get ridda da skins. EXIT. STAGE. LEFT.

What the EFFFFFF?!? I don't even know whats worse about this. The fact that she requests skinless grapes or the fact that I was on Mompilot, which is similar to autopilot, and almost skinned those lovely winemakers for her. The common sense stick suddenly slapped me and I just give her regular grapes because, well, it's a grape. She asks me why she can't have them skinned? I explain to her in my perfectly pitched parent voice that Mommy just doesn't have time to do that and she should just eat them.The skins are good for you and have magic in them that will make you a unicorn. While in my head I'm thinking- Where did this little diva come from? Skin my grapes. Kid please. Try wiping your own rear end, huh? I would actually love it if you could do that but we all know that won't happen. Mommy doesn't have time because she's knee deep in other ridiculousness like, well, pretty much anything besides that.

She then asks the oh so expected....."But why?"

Why?!? I just told you why tater tot. There will be no skinning of the grapes here. Ask me again and I will steal the title The Grapes of Wrath and write and entirely different book. One about a Mom that goes wackadoo after a lifetime of silly demands from her kids. (To be honest, I can't even recall what the original one was about, but I know  it wasn't about skinning grapes. I'd be in the clear regarding subject matter.)

I leave the diva to her bowl of grapes, skins on of course, and go about my chores. I come back into the room and few minutes later only to discover some sort of mass fruit murder. She had smashed all her grapes in an effort to remove the skins herself and completely mutilated them. So not only did she not have skinless grapes, she now had no grapes at all because she ravaged them to a pulp with her baby fingers. Maybe she was trying to make me some wine all along? I mean Mother's Day is right around the corner and it takes awhile to make wine.

What is it with kids and skins anyways? Well pretty much the outer layer of anything. Skins. Crusts. Their own clothing. They seem to be totally against it. Just as I catch myself zoning out and drifting off into random thoughts for a few minutes, which lets face it parents, sometimes a 5 minute space out is the equivalent to a nap for us, I decide it's probably best to clean up this mushy mess before it starts getting smeared everywhere. I'm sure she felt like she won and staged some sort of toddler takeover on the grape front. However, don't get it twisted kid, I won't be skinning grapes for you. Apple peels and bread crusts are the extent of my accommodations.

The next day while in the produce section at the store she says, "Oh look Mom, grapes!" I ever so casually breeze past them and in my head think.....

Thanks for reminding me to grab some wine.

50 SHADES OF A MAN

So now that I'm a free bird I get to pay way more attention the mens.....

Lets just say I'm slightly perplexed.

Slightly. Majorly. Ok, totally perplexed. A woman has a checklist, albeit mine is a mental one, I still run through those checkpoints when noticing the opposing gender.

Human.

Breathing.

End of list.

Kidding. I won't share my list of musts. I'm actually rather basic- (not to be confused with the term "basic bitch") and the normal qualities I look for in someone are slowly shifting now that I'm a single divorced mother of 2 in my 30's. Now this isn't a dig on men compared to women. I know we are 100 shades of bat chit ourselves. These are purely observations. I noticed a group of guys today and it really got me thinking about the types of men I've noticed now that my radar is allowing me to imagine people nekkid.

THE TAN MAN-
 This type of man is usually some variety of orange (thinking he is tan) with shocking slap yo mama white teeth. Let me speak for the majority when I say- dial down on the spray tans buddy! Jersey Shore was maybe popular for a hot second, but this shouldn't be a way of life. Orange will never be a shade of tan. Furthermore, neon colors, especially cut off shirts or tanks along with the tan won't make anything better. Your collection of Affliction shirts and name brand jeans cost more than my 2011 Kia Rio. Males in this group often spend a long time on their hair as well. If you can use your hair to cause any sort of blunt force trauma or you spend longer than I do on it, and mine is nearly to my waist, we have a serious problem. I would like to greet this group with a bucket of warm soapy water. To soften the hair and scrub off the orange....I mean tan.....I will also take the bedazzlement's off your Affliction gear and fancy jeans because my kids and I like to craft.

THE FALSE RUGGED-
From afar you capture us ladies, especially those of us bred here in the PNW. You sport some sort of facial hair and lets be honest here, facial hair is DEAD SEXY. Flannel is your friend and you wear it well. You aren't against canned beers and you love camping. You could be handy, tech savvy and outdoorsy. Discount double check folks! Ahhhh but as we take a look closer we find out you are deathly afraid of spiders, you only drink IPA's, your REI collection of camping gear has never seen a raindrop and your flannels all cost over $75 at Urban Outfitters or wherever the false rugged male would shop. I have no clue where one would actually spend that much on a flannel since I generally shop for clothes at places that also have grocery carts. Yes, I prefer to get my steaks and shirts at the same place. I'm limited on time these days and care more about the steak anyways.

THE REAL RUGGED-
 This is the dialed down version of the False Rugged. Your flannel shirts aren't $75 which is good, but you also seem to be anti bathing, which isn't good. I wish Real Rugged and False Rugged could get together for a chai and find a way to meet in the middle. And while you're at it teach False Rugged how to do man shit like fix stuff and not cry when seeing a spider, and False Rugged can show you proper bathing techniques that won't mess up your look.

GYM GUY-
 Not to be confused with athlete. 

Now, maybe I don't understand this type of man since I don't work out. For me its really simple, your skin shouldn't look like it's going to crack if you bend in any way whatsoever. It reminds me of the German sausages I always ate as a kid in the casing that would snap on the first bite. A mans upper half should never be compared to a sausage. Ever. This group usually, but not always, falls victim to the orange tan look as well. Scale it back just a little. I'm all for being healthy but I shouldn't bounce off you when I reach in for a hug because you're that ripped. Oh what do they say-yoked? I'm a human, not a ping pong ball.

While there are many groupings of the male species hanging around, these few are the ones I keep seeing the most of. Again, I'm not trying to be some pro female man hater here. I know we can easily be categorized into our own pods of crazy. Shoot, I'm sitting here writing this with my comfortably unshaven legs in a goodwill sweater, with no makeup on and slight heartburn from pigging out on Domino's. The most expensive thing on me tonight is the wine that's currently in my stomach. But for the love.....Put down the spray tan gun and pick up a hammer or chop some wood. Who cares how much your shirt costs that makes you look a certain way. Tell me a joke and make me laugh my ass off. Be kind. Not just to me but to the waiter, the bartender or even the random stranger. Open the damn door! I have tiny arms and doors are heavy. Care about what you do in your life and care genuinely for others. I assure you it's far more attractive. A nice smile doesn't hurt either though. Stop trying to be 50 shades of tan (orange) and be 50 shades of a man.

Sleep Siphons And The Zombie Mom

Sleep, or rather the lack of, can make us parents a little coo-coo for the Cocoa Puffs if you know what I mean. I haven't had a decent sleep pattern since 2009. That's 6 years of being a partial zombie. I'm shocked I can even do the math on that.

The cause of my current zombie state? Those little sleep suckers. I won't call them soul suckers because they are my children and I love them dearly. Actually I think I prefer the name sleep siphons. Yup. My littles are total sleep siphons. Those of you that have kids that just LOVE sleeping, spare me the deets on how all you have to do is have a routine. You just rub their backs 13 times clockwise, reading Goodnight Moon while you still manage to fold laundry or something asinine at the same time. I've tried it all in this house and IT AIN'T HAPPENING Y'ALL. No way, no how. I've tried the back rubbing and the Goodnight Moon reading. Shoot, I've tried the Go The F*ck To Sleep reading. My kids, especially the little Gremster just wants nothing to do with it. I would love to let her just cry it out, but then she wakes her sister and it's a downhill battle for one parent to tackle after that. I know I may sound bitter towards those of you that have good sleepers, and you're right, I am! I am also tired as all get out!

Kaelyn is almost out of this phase and I am pretty much on my knees worshiping her every night before bed. It wasn't an easy road to get there with her, she hated sleep when she was her sister's age too. But Leah, she's the real sleeping peach. NOT! This kid is in a toddler bed. Well she should be, but sometimes she only ends up with certain limbs in the bed and the rest of her is haphazardly on the floor. Toddler beds aren't large and she demands a few things to go along with her every night which is normal. A dog, her 2 noni's (Binky) and a blanket. Now these noni's are specific, One is called kitty noni and the other is 2nd noni, she has a routine with each of them and I can't make sense of it. As of lately, she expects a new dog addition "Big Dog" to join the bed. Big Dog is actually the size of a smaller regular dog. That's a lot to cram into a bed. Oh, but she also requests my presence. Good thing I am kid sized myself. Leah, Big Dog and I are usually intertwined like some pretzel concoction and all I can do is plot my escape. I usually mess this up and wake her up somehow, and if I actually manage to break out of the toddler bed prison, I have about 3 hours before she wakes up and stumbles into my bed. She started to get smart and now has to hold my hand, reducing my chance for a successful escape drastically.

Last night I get her to bed and it went pretty easy because she was tired. My reward in that moment usually just means punishment later, but I'll take it. I crawl into bed with my gummy bears and tea so I can start my movie. Midnight rolls around and my door flies open. I see the dark shadow of some crazy haired, Chucky like little sleep siphon coming for her juice- me. Here we go again. I could easily let her crawl in with me, but that would be a harder habit to break later on, so back to her toddler bed prison it is. I get us all set up with the must haves, including the iPhone for me so I can at least read pointless Elite Daily articles or something while I serve out my term. Her eyes start to close, I hear a snore, and just as I'm starting to think YES! YES! Her death grip on two of my fingers release! Her grip is somewhat loose now so I try my escape, I only had 24 minutes left on my movie and I was determined to finish it. I sneak out my other two fingers and BAM! She's awake. She quickly yanks me back down into her control and wraps every limb around me. My phone also dies so I am just staring at the wall since I refuse to sleep the entire night in the teeny tiny bed. I was going to finish that movie! I mean, Leonardo DiFREAKINCaprio was in it! Need I say more!?

In 2 minutes time I think my thoughts went from liking how my hair smelled, to trying to meal plan for a month, to wondering what kind of Summer we will have, to making a mental note that I needed to bleach the bathtub and clean the kids ears. I look around her room and see that her toys even look passed out, sleeping soundly. Cinderella is on the floor, arms up, looking like she drank too much glitter juice and passed out at midnight. Big Dog had fallen off the bed, but looked peaceful. "Windacorn" her unicorn, was hanging from the string on her curtains. Even though Windacorn was clearly hung, she looked well rested. That's when I realized I was in full on zombie mode. I was envious of her toys, plastic and stuffed! Her limbs start to fall off me and once again her grip loosens. As I attempt at an early release once more, she clings onto my fingernail, YES MY FINGERNAIL people, with all her might and keeps me there. I wait it out just a tad longer and I escape from the bed by doing the duck and roll method onto the floor. People without kids, you just don't understand the set of skills required to sneak out of your kids room sometimes. Just as I'm almost home free I stop because I notice a booger on her wall. It was dark but after nearly 6 years of being a Mom, I know crusted substances when I see them. I take a moment to laugh because boogers on the walls was something my sister used to do as a kid, I somehow triggered Leah's motion activated baby doll that blows you a kiss when you get close to it. It also says "MUAH" really loud. Game over, shes awake. All because I laughed at a flipping crusted booger on the wall. Mom fail #3367- Never laugh at crusted substances during a prison break.

My sentence for trying to break out this time? I caved and brought her into bed with me where we slept, well she slept, peacefully with her hands in mine. She may be the little sleep siphon, but I was clearly the sucker last night.

Dear Prince

 Prince,  

I won't lie, I didn't want you. Life was right where I wanted it to be then. I wasn't interested in caring for an animal, especially one of your size.We had a baby and just bought a home. This home also had white carpet. Key word- HAD.  I remember when Aaron showed me your picture from the shelters website. I thought, pretty dog, but hell to the no. He somehow convinced me to just go look at you. Next thing I know you were laying in the back of my Jeep and we were headed to our newly purchased home with white carpets.

We also had a cat when we adopted you. Again, key word being HAD. One bark out of you and that cat attacked my face, giving me a fat lip. The very next morning you barked again and the cat hid himself in one of the fir trees in the backyard for nearly 24 hours. He was so high up that getting him down required an extension ladder and a pole.

The cat was given a new home.

Upon reading your adoption packet, we were made aware that you may not be fond of other animals. Shocker. It was also brought to our attention that you had been adopted so many times by the age of three, that it was sad. You also didn't know any English commands. Mainly Spanish and some Russian. I didn't want you, but I felt bad for you.

Then one day I was making dinner and you suddenly started going crazy at the front window, barking then running over to me and back to the window. Once I finally went to the window I saw that the neighbor boy had fallen off his bike and nobody else was around him. You were just trying to get my attention. That was when I started getting a soft spot for you.

That was back in the beginning, and now, well now I sit here with tears streaming down my face because I have to start the search for another home for you. Again. I went from not wanting to accept you, to not being able to accept the fact that I can no longer keep you. You have become a huge part of our family. You are somewhat of a local celebrity too, because people just love you! You let the girls torture you. They dress you up, climb on you, chase you, and fight over you. You just lay back and let them run the show. Now that you're the only male in the house you take shifts sleeping in all of our rooms throughout the night. You usually end up settling in the hallway between all our bedroom doors, protecting us.

When I went into labor with Leah, I did the majority of the labor at home so by the time we left for the hospital you were FREAKING OUT. You were so worked up over seeing me in pain that you got sick all over the garage. Bless our neighbors heart for cleaning that up. Or the time that Kaelyn answered the door when a solicitor came. I was on the other end of the house and suddenly heard a grown man shrieking "Uh HELLO! Is there an adult around?" I run down the hall to find Kaelyn standing at the front door with you on the stoop guarding her. That poor college kid was scared shitless! That's also when we realized an upper lock would be beneficial so toddlers can't open doors.

I remember one of the first times Aaron had the girls for the weekend after he moved out. I was alone in the house and it made me sad. Generally I try to keep myself busy when I have free time because being by myself in this house is really hard. Even if it was my choosing, some level of heartache is involved. I closed myself in the bathroom and took a rare moment for a meltdown. You heard me and starting banging your head on the bathroom door until I opened it. You just laid at my feet until I was ready to move. The next morning I woke up and found you not beside my bed, but in it right next to me. You've probably seen me emotional more than any human has, which works for me since you're a dog and can't tell anyone what you see. I mean, you don't even have any animal friends to talk to since you scare anything with fur. People can't know I'm a big baby sometimes, I've got this whole soulless ginger image to keep up.

You have provided us with years of protection, frustration, and love. You made the purchase of a Dyson vacuum so worth it, it's unreal. The amount of dog hair you shed has probably added an extra layer of insulation to the house. Ok, not really, but it sure feels that way. If you had dog friends, I know you'd be the hot dog on the block because of how beautiful you are.

I am so sorry that our life is going in a different direction. One that makes us unable to keep you as our main man any longer.Sorry isn't even the right word. I am absolutely crushed to my core. I want to cry every time I look at you now, since I know our life with you is almost over. This is the start of many transitions for the girls and I. Moving is right around the corner, so I want to make sure we find you a great home. I wish I could say it would be temporary, but I need to be realistic here too. Thinking about splitting you from them brings on an entire different level of heartache for me. I never knew it would be so darn painful. No offense, but you're a dog!! I didn't think I would ever have such an attachment to an animal. Ever. So thank you for allowing us to love you for all these years. Thank you for making me an animal person and thank you for always protecting my babies. I am so sorry this is happening, I wish things could stay the way they are.

I promise to do all I can to make sure you live a good life. We love you Bubs, more than you know.

Right after we first adopted you!

Helping Sis reach the sink.

Loungin.

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At Chambers.

First trip to the Beach! Ok, only trip to the beach.

Bubs and L

Kisses.

Bringing baby home from hospital.

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The Teeter Totter & The T-Rex Surprise

I recently had 5 days away from the littles. This was THE LONGEST amount of time I have been away from either of them. I was nervous as all get out. I mean, what in the french toast would I do with myself for 5 whole days?!? Work. Sleep. Miss them. Repeat. That was my plan. Well plans changed and while I did work and miss them to the heavens and back, I most definitely did not sleep all that much. In fact, I barely even sat. I was GO GO GO from the minute they were dropped off at their Dads. My only responsibilities were the dog and work. Outside of that I was doing whatever I wanted. Now you folks without children have no idea what 5 days of doing whatever the hell you want does for us parents. It's the FFF effect. It's foreign, it's freaky, but it's also kind of fun. The fun came into play after I convinced myself it was ok to enjoy myself for days on end AND miss my kids at the same time, instead of just staying home and sulking that they weren't with me. This co-parenting thing is a balance, one I am slowly becoming better with. My entire life feels like a teeter totter. All mom mode on one side, then I'm suddenly catapulted into the air with free time every so often... And I was never really a fan of the f*ckin teeter totter to begin with.

When I was younger, pre kid days, I would always see Moms out and wonder why they looked like wackos in Mom jeans that had just been released into the wild. Wide eyed and dancing to Def Leppard "Pour Some Sugar on Me" at 5:30pm in some hole in the wall Pub, hugging everyone. The 9-5 shift workers that would stop in for their daily after work PBR sure get some entertainment on the days those Moms go out for happy hour! You know what, I'll never judge those Mothers again. Shoot, I'd probably hug them. Double shoot, I probably am one of those Moms now. I have this thing for making friends with strangers in random places anyways. It's best that I travel with supervision at all times since I can't be trusted. There was even a time, years ago, that I found a nearly passed out tweaker with one shoe in a booth at El Toro and wanted to give her a  ride home. I figured she was in a fajita coma and wanted to make sure she was safe. Seeeeee...that's why I need supervision. However, I'm getting off track here, that's another story. Point being, free time is like crack to us Moms. We need to let loose once in awhile, however it works for us, so we can stay cool under the daily pressures parenting throws our way.

At the end of the 5 days my teeter totter dropped me back into parent mode and I was instantly happy and whole again. That happiness would briefly vanish for a hot second when I was probed by a plastic T-Rex. I had ran to use the bathroom quickly and didn't turn on the light. I know I'm not the only Mom that does this- You see a moment that you can pee in peace and even if you have to do a double roundhouse kick, a back handspring, and a herkie over a baby gate to get there, you take that moment to pee alone! For 5 days the lid was up so that's what I was used to. Welllll...someone decided to close the lid and place that plastic creature there. For what purpose? I really don't know. Anyways, thank goodness the T-Rex doesn't have large arms, that could have ended very badly for me. Right after, I walk into the living room and see the littlest little naked. Naked and bathing herself in the dogs water bowl, and I thought....

I love my life. There's never a dull moment. I just LOVE being a Mom and while I enjoy my free time too, I'm learning the benefits of what loving both sides of my life does for me. Even if it's filled with random nude dog bathing and the T-Rex surprise.

Mama On A String

I'm starting to believe that our children are the rulers and we are simply their subjects. As parents, we may think we are in charge, but really those littles run the show. Ok, so maybe this isn't really true but it sure feels like it some days....or weeks!

Example....

So we play this game every single day where Leah wants string cheese. But.....I wanna do it "MYSEF"" Mom. I wanna open it "MYSEF!" Great. Well we've played this game long enough now that I know she gets mad and ends up asking me do it for her. Once we get it open the game changes and she chews a piece for a second and then decides to hand me the chewed up piece because it suddenly becomes the most disgusting thing she's ever tried eating and I must get it out of her sight that instant! Not the entire string though, just the piece she tried eating. Seeing that she just scaled the fridge like some toddler version of Spiderman seconds before and screaming to have the cheese, I find that it suddenly disgusts her hard to believe. I grab the slobbery regurgitated string cheese with my bare hands, because I'm a Mom and we do shit that that without thinking twice. Sometimes if I am really distracted I forget that it's already been chewed food and almost eat it myself. Lets face it, Mom's live off their kids scraps during the day. Crust and crumbs that have a drizzle of kid slobber should be it's own food group on the pyramid.  I feel like a wild animal sometimes that's just thankful they left me some bits to munch on. My daily food intake is this- Luke warm coffee for breakfast. Two bites of a granola bar I picked up off the couch for a snack. Lunch is crust and 7 goldfish crackers, maybe some half chewed string cheese if I'm lucky. Dinner..well that is my only shot at actually eating a real meal and sometimes I succeed. However, some days I spend so much of that time trying to get the kids to eat, that mine gets cold so I give up and have a glass of wine instead.  We all know if you actually stop to make yourself a meal all your own, the little people will reek havoc and make you wish you never chose to take those 5 minutes to begin with. It's like taking a shower. I know I only have so much time. Get in. Get out. We all remember the time they decided to Sharpie themselves trying to be tigers right?! That's because I took an extra few minutes to shave my legs. That mistake cost me hours of cleaning.

 

 

I actually have good kids too. I can't begin to imagine what it's like for those that don't. I think I will take the sneaky approach. Lose the battle, win the war. When I'm old and senile I will do things like poop in the bath, scream and hit the walls for no reason and write cryptic messages on my wrinkled skin with marker so I can get myself kicked out of the old folks home. I will also call them every 5 minutes and just say their name over and over again, never actually asking a question. It'll be so fun. Great thing about this plan is I probably will be so old I won't remember doing it, so I will repeat it daily!

 

 

 

 

 

Walk Before You Run

Why is everyone so replaceable these days? I've had ample time to assess what's happened in my own personal life and by no means was I perfect. Who really is? We can't rate ourselves purely based off the successes and failures we've had. Sure they shape who we are, but it's what we take away from those situations, both good and bad, that really matters. Do we improve on our weak points or obsess over the failure itself? Most obsess before they improve, when really if we improve first we most likely will see positive results, causing the need to obsess over our failures slowly lessen.

We live in a world where things are always in motion. We rely on instant gratification. Our wants must be fulfilled immediately or we lose sight of what we were going after to begin with. Things break and we replace them instead of trying to fix, mend, or just deciding to live with the small crack in the glass. Sure there is a point with all things where one may have to accept defeat and start to rebuild. Not all things broken can be fixed. We can admit to not being perfect as individuals, but require perfection out of things in life. It makes no sense really. When did we forget to stop and smell the roses? Ok, maybe not literally smell them.(Not that there's anything wrong with it if you do.) We need to learn how to slow down again. Everything is always at our fingertips. Siri can answer almost anything for us, including where to hide a dead body and Google makes us appear intelligent. Texting has pretty much made phone calls obsolete and makes us challenged when it comes to actual face to face communication. We have become disconnected due to constant connection if that makes any sense?

We are literally blowing through life. Sure, not everyone is this way, but the majority are. There is nothing wrong with forward motion, and it's not necessarily bad if it's fast paced. The most important thing that most don't have before getting wrapped up in the NOW NOW NOW mentality, is actually knowing what they want first. I don't know what I want, but I know I want it right now. Many of us have been guilty of this. I hate to call us out, but ladies, that's kind of our knack!

Relationships begin and end before there's even time to give it a title. Technology has allowed us to be in constant contact, while allowing us to still maintain a physical distance. Here's a novel approach, actually get to know a person first. And yes, that requires actual talking. You know, the face to face kind that our ancestors once did. Take online dating for example. Guy sees girl. Guy likes girl. Guy messages girl because her boobs are hanging out in her profile picture, which just so happens to be a selfie. They text for about a day (insert some sexting.) They meet, drink too much, and go too far right away. Then the downward spiral begins. It's over before it starts and you can't figure out why because he seemed so nice?!?Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Then girl starts to hate men and it's bases it off of those experiences. Ladies, take note- No man that asks to see your ta-tas right out the gate is a keeper. Sexting and selfies won't lead to soul mates.

If you jump the gun, you most likely get shot.

Making a valid effort to slow down is key. You must learn to walk before you run. Know what you want in life...and there's nothing wrong with not having those wants right away. Just don't forget to live your life while you wait for the good things to come.

That's my rant!

Untying The Knot And Tying The Tubes?

So everyone has told me that 30 is supposed to be fabulous.

I'm still waiting...

So far 30 can go for a stroll into the woods and just stay there. Well, I kind of take that back. Not all parts of 30 are bad. I am as happy as a clam personally, it's just all the things that keep happening around me, trying to burst my bubble that can go take a hike. Trying to untie the knot and officially be divorced has been the biggest challenge since turning the 3-0. The big D is supposed to be finalized in a matter of weeks, but now isn't looking that way. Oye, for the love.... I just want it done. We have been apart for long enough now that still being wed legally is like a reoccurring nightmare that makes me unable to move on with certain parts of my life. So by the time it's actually done, I will emotionally be so far removed from it, but on paper, the ink won't even be dry yet in some peoples eyes. It is what it is I suppose. Hopefully it's finished before the girls go to college. I'd actually like to be, dare I say it, friends with my soon to be ex spouse one day. I've known the man over half my life, so having it be this way is really the last thing I ever expected. I now see why people throw themselves a celebratory "I'm divorced" shindig! I will just probably grab a bucket of chicken with some oh so classy box of wine and go sit on a beach somewhere...but hey....who knows when that day will come.

I also didn't expect to have my longest relationship EVAH come to a tragic end at 30. My Jenny the Jeep (which has recently been named Smokey.) That green machine has been my ride or die for 9 years! We've done road trips, had a few very minor accidents and murdered some street rodents together. I lost her once on 6th ave too. She drove me to the hospital for both my labors. It was the first big girl purchase I ever made on my own to celebrate a promotion I had just received at work. You'll be greatly missed.

I 'm laying the foundation to a new life for the girls and myself and I guess in order to do that, everything must go! A garage sale of the mind and material things if you will. A good friend told me (in so many words) when all of this first started that I would be fine and come out ahead, but that things will have to get mighty difficult first. Boy was she right! Everything she has ever said has been spot on so far. The woman is truly gifted when it comes to her predictions, and if that's the case, I am beyond thrilled for my future! A great thing about 30 so far is simply just caring less about what others think. I'm happy, my kids are fantastic and I have strong friendships with so many wonderful people. All other things will just fall into place when the time is right. If it doesn't, thank goodness for fermented grapes and carbs!

However, one of the biggest shockers of 30ness so far happened when I was at the Dr's recently. I was just in for a routine check up and the Dr. starting talking to me about birth control. As we were discussing different options from what I currently have, she said............WELL NOW AT YOUR AGE AND WITH YOUR EXTREME FERTILITY, HAVE YOU CONSIDERED TYING YOUR TUBES??!! What the what? "At your age?!" I'm 30! I'm fairly certain I just felt my ovaries shrivel up and request to start cashing in on social security after hearing her say that. It's not that I plan to challenge the Duggar's and have a bazillion kids or anything, but still...

Soup & Salad

Leah the Grem Grem is sickly and was rather lethargic on the sofa. I don't like it when my littles are sick, but this is when she is so affectionate and calm that I don't mind it when she says "I wanna snuggie you on the couch Mama."

I leave her to make coffee and I look over to see Kaelyn laying a blanket on Leah and kissing her on the head. I notice she drew her a picture, brought out all her favorite stuffed animals and set up Leahs nightlight in the living room. It was pure sibling love. She whispered "I'm sorry you don't feel good sissy. I'll kiss you on the head because I don't want your germs." Kaelyn even made herself breakfast...which is a small slice of parenting heaven.

So we head to the store to get sickly supplies and things for dinner. Kaelyn wants soup. Since my oldest was so sweet to her sister I decided to let her pick which soup. I said we can have chicken noodle, corn and sausage chowder, or chicken tortilla. She picks the chowder. Sweet, that's what I want anyways. Just as I am about done getting what we need, Kaelyn wants the tortilla soup instead. Here we go! The fickle mind of a 5 year old. So there we were conveniently in the booze aisle, as she goes back and forth for what seems like an eternity over which soup I will make. Meanwhile im just looking at the bottle of Pinot thinking.....It's 5 o'clock somewhere, right!? Kidding. The only reason I was in that aisle was because right before, some sweet senior citizen ran us of the main drag when she crashed into my cart and smashed Kaelyn's finger. I pulled into the next aisle thinking it would be quiet in case Kaelyn needed to shed a few tears because who buys booze at 9:30am?! Oh well guess what?! Many Moms coming from school drop offs or still in their Lululemon attire from the gym were flooding it. I wanted to high five them all. Eventually we decide on dinner and head home.

Fast forward to dinnertime. Leah had been clung to me all afternoon like some fever ridden marsupial. Sweaty, snotty and sick-poor thing. Have you ever tried to chop six cups of potatoes and an onion while holding a healthy 2 year old? If the answer is no, I don't recommend it. Well as I go to serve the soup....which for some reason I made enough to feed a village when lets face it, I know I will be the only one that actually eats it, Kaelyn asks me for a salad. I said no but here's your soup. She asks for a salad again. I deny the request for a second time and put the soup in front of her. It wasn't until she asked for the third time that I thought HOLY CHIT this kid is asking me to eat salad! And I , her mother, am denying her! I don't know if it was because I was delirious from holding the marsupial baby all day, but how could I miss hearing that my kid asked for a freakin salad?! Those are vegetables ya'll, VEGETABLES! That kid has been eating plates of beige for far too long, so this is a huge deal in my house.

She ends up eating 3 helpings of salad and no soup. So as expected I was the only one that ate that. I don't even care though, the kid ate vegetables! Later she tells me she only did it for one reason....

She wanted to be a rabbit. Hey, whatever works.

I need this trend to continue. Those of you with kids that love veggies, how do you do it? And don't say you just cover it in cheese or hide it in the food. My kids are like mini vegetable detectives and could identify the "healthy secrets" within a casserole in seconds.

Tiny Strength

Last night, not long after putting the girls to bed I hear sobs coming from Kaelyn's room. I walk in and see her hugging an old picture of her dad and I back from when we first started dating. She was mumbling something, but I wasn't close enough to hear what she was saying. I was frozen in her doorway trying to think of the best way to handle this and trying not to get emotional myself. Well, at least not in front of her. I walk over lay down beside her and ask her what's wrong. She turns to face me, and with her little raspy voice and tear soaked face says- " I just want my Dad to come back. I want you guys to marry each other all day Mom. Can you just marry each other all day again? I love my Dad, and I love you so much. Can you please hug each other?"

My heart sank.

She starts crying a little more. I have silent tears I am trying to hide while I hug her tight. She wraps her arms around me, kissed my cheek, and said- "Thanks for being my happy Mom. I super love you." That's when I broke down. I know that as a parent you need to be strong in certain situations for the sake of your kids, but in this moment I just couldn't. So there we were crying together in her tiny twin bed that once belonged to her Dad as a kid, and I couldn't find a single word to say besides "I know sweetie." All I could do was cry. It was probably one of, if not the rawest moment I've ever had as a parent, maybe as an adult all together. The way she hugged me was so strong, so protective, yet so heartbreaking. In that moment she wasn't just my first born baby girl, she was my rock. I could feel both pain and love passing between us as we laid there together. She seemed so much older in this moment. She showed such strength, such maturity, while still expressing such love. I knew then that it was ok that I wasn't able to find the right words to say. I was able to say sorry, tell her I love her, and assure her that everything would eventually be ok without speaking a word.

I know that kids go through certain stages of grief during a divorce, and I've done my research on how to handle these moments. I was also in her exact spot as a kid myself. However, no amount of reading or notes taken during a parenting class would have prepared me for last night. It's one thing to read something in a book and another to actually be in the moment. I have explained things to her in many ways regarding the situation with her Dad and I. She is aware that she is loved, but it's inevitable that she will feel some hurt as we deal with this. I need to accept that and just continue to do my best to help her process it in order to get her through this change in life.

Did I handle this situation right? Ya know, I'm not sure if there really is an absolute "right way" to handle moments like that. There's a wrong way. But when it comes to what is right, there's definitely some gray area.

Being 5 And So Alive! Happy Birthday Kiddo!

Dear Kaelyn,

Happy Birthday bug! Hard to believe you're 5! I know people say this all of the time, but it really does feel like yesterday that I was resting smoothies and snacks on my giant belly, just killing time waiting for you to arrive! I remember the day after you were due, crying to my mid-wife that you just needed to get here already. Not only was I fat and uncomfortable, everyday you were late was a day less your Dad was able to spend with you before he left the country. She worked some magic and that night I went into labor. Your Dad was watching a Mariner's game that just so happened to go into extra innings- 16 to be exact. Ken Griffey Jr. was up to bat and that's when I told your Dad we HHHAAAAAAD to leave right that second. From the time we left the house and got into the car, Griffey won the game for us 1-0 in the bottom of the inning. That game made history for the Mariners and your Dad loves baseball, so he was pretty bummed to miss that play. But I was just certain you were about to fall out any second. Little did I know you would wait hours and hours before deciding to enter this world!

 I'm sure you inherited my stubborn streak.

August 13th was the day you chose to make your grand entrance. Which happens to be one year to the day that your Dad and I lost our very first baby. You turned a sad day into such a lovely one for us sweetie, so thank you. You also share birthdays with two of your Great-Great Grandmothers. So even though I was dying to get you out weeks earlier, you picked a great day to be born.

In the past 5 years you have been my world. We spent your entire first year alone, just the two of us. For such a small human back then, you carried so much strength. I'm very strong, but I looked to you often when I would have bad days and you always made it better. Holding you, hugging you, hearing you laugh or just watching you sleep would always give me the pick me up I needed. I am forever grateful for the joy you've brought into my life, and am so thankful that ahead lies a lifetime of making memories with you. Living so full of love, laughter and fingers crossed- pooping alone on the toilet....for both of us actually. Bathroom privacy, or lack of, is something most moms miss. We also love the moment our kids are self sufficient on the throne in regards to #2. When you're a teen and get mad at me for saying no to something (trust me all kids do this) just remember....I've had your bodily fluids on my bare hands more times than I'd like to ever admit, so it's within my "Mom rights" to say no every so often.

You are always the silly, kind, goofy kid that gets along with everyone. Your raspy little voice always makes people laugh and you have such a creative imagination. I love watching your little mind work.

Because I love you so much, I wish I could be a sponge for you that absorbs any pain you may experience in life, especially with the major transitions happening for us right now. However, I know being a good parent doesn't mean shielding you from every hard time life throws your way. I just hope at the very least, you feel 10x the amount of love as you ever do pain. I know you are too young to understand the why's behind all that's happening right now. Regardless of it all, your Dad and I love you and your sister so much and will always find a way to work together to benefit the well being of you both.

Thank you for hiding stuffed animals in my bed so I don't have to sleep alone when you are away and the house is empty. Thank you for always waking up and being so cheerful, saying things like "Wake up! It's a good morning day!" Thank you for growing so fast. I'm sure you'll be taller than me soon, which is good. I could really use some help reaching the upper shelves. Most important of all, thank you for just being. Your existence alone is such a gift in itself.

I hope you read all the letters I've written you one day. Your Gigi did the same for me, and I hold those so close to my heart. You and your sister are all I'll ever need. The two of you complete me in a way I never thought possible. When you have little midgets of your own, you'll understand exactly what I'm saying. I hope you continue to grow with your chin up, some sass in your pants, and with kindness in your heart.

It's been an honor being your Mom thus far and I am so excited for what our future holds. I super love you kiddo.

When Life Gives You A Ladder- Make Cobbler

"Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know." -Pema Chodron

I've seen this quote around a few times lately, so it caught my attention given the whirlwind of crap happening these days. While it may be a very true statement, if we are always learning, does that mean nothing ever really goes away? This can be good or bad, depending on circumstances. It can be people, places or things. Lately, I've often wondered what I'm being taught during this phase in my life. It seems like whenever I turn around something else is happening. Certain things just won't go away, both positive and negative, past and present. I would really like to give props to my sarcastic sense of humor and German genes for keeping me tough and relatively sane. Without those two things, I'm pretty sure I would be within the confines of some secret hideout somewhere, just waiting for this life storm to pass. My littles are also a huge motivator in keeping me solid during all of this craziness, but that's a given. I love those little shits to the end of the earth and beyond!

Today I was given a good example for what that quote can mean to someone.

A few years ago, after buying our house, someone (who shall remain nameless) just had to buy this GIANT 40ft ladder off of a friend of ours. I remember it was at a time when money was tight, so I felt it was a pointless purchase. The ladder arrived at our house, prior to purchase, because it was used to rescue our cat that was trapped high up in a tree. Prince, our newly adopted beast dog was to blame for the cat in the tree scenario. That is when we found out he was less than willing to tolerate other animals.

That was also the ONLY time that ladder has ever been used.

The ladders permanent resting place is on some hooks alongside our fence, right outside the master bedroom window no less. Not only was I against the purchase of the thing to begin with, I've had to stare at it daily for nearly 4 years now. Last year I noticed some blackberry bushes starting to wrap around the ladder. I was instantly annoyed because obviously, it has no use here. Today I woke up sad because I was in an empty house, for the second night in a row and I just wanted to be with my girls. That's when I happened to look out my window and noticed all kinds of plump blackberries ready for pickin!

So you know what I'm gonna do? Pick them and make a cobbler. Why? Because I may hate that ladder, but I fucking love me some cobbler!! Those berries wouldn't be there without that big hunk of metal hanging on my fence. What did I learn from this? That sometimes something you don't like or don't see having a purpose can change into something useful given time. I know it's just a stupid ladder, but really....... is that some irony or what?

So now that I've learned what I've needed to from that thing, it can go. Ladder anyone? Because I'm keeping the cobbler for myself.

JAM-July Awareness Month....

The month of July has been full of random life lessons and new discoveries.... Here are some of the random things I have come to realize, learn, or unearth this past month.

Never buy value sized anything when you have small hands and are single.  Not only do I have kid size hands, they hold the strength of an 85 year old woman. Opening any sort of large jar or container is now a thing of the past for me. Somewhat of a bummer seeing that value sized generally is a better deal moneywise. We all know how I like to get the biggest bang for my buck.

There's another type of value sized/biggest bang for your buck when one is single, but that's an ENTIRELY different kind of blog post folks.

I was so proud of my biggest little for learning to pee in the woods last week. It's a right of passage that all kids must learn this at some point. Shoot, I grew up playing in the woods so it was imperative that I knew how to properly squat. That proud moment faded just slightly when we were playing outside in our front yard over the weekend with some of the neighborhood kids. I told Kaelyn to stop playing and go potty. Her reply- Sure Mom, which tree?!?

I guess I should explain that we only pee in the trees when public bathrooms are locked or we are on a wilderness adventure. Or if you happen to be playing in the woods with your friends and they are pretending to hold you hostage for your pickles. That last statement is pretty random.....but that did happen to me as kid. Pickles are the shit, so I don't blame my friends for wanting them.

I always thought it was so precious to see parents carry their kids to bed after they fell asleep in the car or on the couch. They NEVER seem to wake up, and the act of carrying them looks so graceful and effortless. Insert me- borderline midget Mom. If Leah falls asleep, I can easily transport her but once I get to the crib i'm not tall enough to gracefully lay her in there. This usually doesn't end well. I gently whisper "just tuck and roll sweetie" and hope for the best! Kidding, I don't really say that... I think it.

Kaelyn fell asleep on the sofa the other night and I attempted to carry her to bed. I'm only 5ft tall and she is probably only a foot and a half shorter than me. So instead of the effortless looking carry to bed, it looked like I was pretty much dragging a lifeless body down my hall. Her feet were almost touching the floor and I think I tripped over 3 things during my struggle walk to her room. I saw those items earlier, prior to bedtime, but in true parent form....didn't clean them up then. By the time I dumped (yes dumped, there was nothing effortless about this) her on the bed, I laid down next to her out of breath and pissed off for stubbing my toe. Grace and not in my vocab. Well it is, but only because that happens to be the Grems middle name!

Smokey Robinson- AKA- My soon to be lifeless Jeep has recently been smoking out of the exhaust. I know-I know, I need to get it to a mechanic. New motor....blah blah. In the meantime, the only perk is that nobody tailgates me anymore! If they do they get a nice plume of smoke when I take off from a stoplight. I'm like that mean friend in high school that would blow smoke in your face if you chose to not partake in smoking your parents old cigarettes that you would find outside. However, my best friend and I did smoke my moms half used cigarettes as teens...in the woods....where we had to squat to pee. Pretty sure doing that back then is the reason I don't smoke now. Gross.

Anyhoo- July awareness month has been really peachy so far.

Boxed Wine & A Bucket of Chicken

A few summers ago, some girlfriends and I had the stellar idea to spend an evening at the beach. Complete with boxed wine and a bucket of chicken from KFC. Laugh all you want, but people thought we were brilliant when they saw that we removed the bag of wine from the box and placed it into the sound to keep it chilled! It was such a fun and relaxing night, even if we had to pee in the woods. We vowed to do it annually.

Fast forward to circa now. Well yesterday to be exact. The kids and I head down to the beach to meet my Sister Wife for our fun filled evening of chicken, boxed wine, and park playtime. Easy right? Wrong!!! This particular area has recently been upgraded to a spray park with a nice playground, which I have never been to. We park and wait for wife to show. Turns out we parked in the wrong spot, far away from where we needed to be. Literally over the river and through the woods. This is important to remember as I continue on with what unfolded over the next 5 minutes, which felt like a mini lifetime.

Girls start to fight because they are stepping on each others shadows on the sidewalk. One spits on the other. I do nothing about it because I am mid text to Sister Wife trying to figure out where she is and where we need to be. Random passerby stares because Leah let out a Gremlin grunt. It's past feeding time for all of us so tensions are starting to rise and I felt a kid meltdown coming on if I didn't let their grimy little hands into that bucket of chicken ASAP! Just as I figure out where we need to be, I see two ladies walking my way in long skirts and I just know......

Skirts- "Hi there. We are with the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints."

Me- Loooooonnnngggg silent pause. Like LLLLLLOOOOONNNNG pause. Not to be rude, I just thought they were going to continue on with their spiel. They didn't. We stared for a minute and finally I just said. "Oh, that's nice."

Skirts- "We would love to discuss the word of Jesus Christ and invite you to hear more about it."

(Leah grunts, and Kaelyn starts tugging on my arm. I hear her say Mommy, I don't feel good.)

Me- I'm sorry but we are running late for dinner and my daughter just said she isn't feeling too hot,  so we have to go.

Skirts- "Well we just wanted to inform you, and invite you....... " They were suddenly cut off by my kid.

Kaelyn- "Mommy I think I'm going to throw up!"

We start walking away. I really don't believe that Kaelyn is sick since she was fine all day prior. I thought she was just doing me a solid with the skirts and saw the hunger in my eyes, knowing I needed my hand in that bucket of chicken ASAP as well. The skirts start trailing behind me, man these chicks are relentless! That's when Kaelyn puked. I didn't notice at first, because I was trying to get over the river and through the woods to my dinner. Then she puked again. So there we were.... A manic Mother figure, a Gremlin, and a puke walker. All being stalked by the LDS skirt girls. If the big man was going to throw down a bucket of chicken and some baby wipes for clean up, maybe their conversation could've continued on a bit longer. But sick kids and hunger trump sidewalk chats about religion ladies.

We finally reach our destination, and the kids magically decide they aren't hungry. How sweet of them. They play around for awhile and we are all finally relaxed and having fun. It starts to get late, but its summer so who really cares?! Not this mom. Everything is just grand, then the security guard comes to lock up the bathrooms for the night. This is another thing that's important to remember. Shortly after he leaves, someone shouts that there is poop on the slide. We inspect and assume its mud. Rule #1- never assume. Just like rule #1 in my dating blog post. Rule #1 will always apply to both men and trying to decipher bodily functions. Still thinking its mud, I grab some wipes and clean it up. As im walking to the garbage the wind blows and I get the whiff. So much for thinking it was mud. Bathrooms are all locked up now too. Crap. Not even 5 minutes later Kaelyn has to pee. Again, bathrooms are locked up. So I take her behind a tree and teach her how to squat like a lady in the woods.

So there ya have it.... All we wanted to do was relive our lovely boxed wine, bucket of chicken evening from summers ago. But when you add two kids in the mix, you get a little puke, a whole lot of chaos, and 2 generations of ladies squatting to pee in the woods.

Match.wrong- Learning The Rules of Dating

I'm coming to the realization that I am going to be an extremely awkward dater. For one, I just don't get it. Maybe it's due to the fact that I missed the dating boat at a young age because I was in a relationship that turned into a marriage for the majority of my twenties. Who knows. The thought of going out there and actively trying to meet someone just seems pitiful, tiring and simply not fun. I don't like attention in that way and while I may be very outgoing, I am confident that when it comes to dating I will be very socially awkward. Besides, I think I need to brush up on my dating resume. I am in the thick of raising my littles while going through a seemingly long divorce process. Since that consumes 90% of my time, I am pretty sure I would be a real conversation killer! I think I have been on two dates in my ENTIRE life with people I didn't somehow know prior, and one was fairly recent. The first one was in my early twenties. He was a customer that I helped at work one day that I ended up running into often around town. During our date he asked me if I was ok seeing a man that had to disappear from time to time with no notice. Ummmmm?? Can ya clarify there buddy? On the way back from dinner, he was driving his brand new BMW which happened to be a stick shift. I mentioned that I haven't driven a manual since I was 16. He offered to let me drive, I declined. That's when this fool tried to fake a heart attack on the road and make me drive his BRAND NEW FULLY LOADED BMW! Full on traffic piling up behind us while he just yelled at me-"What are you going to do Kendra! This is a crisis, drive the car!"

There was no second date. Obviously.

The second was fairly recent. I was set up on a blind date. **Disclaimer- There was nothing wrong with this man, he was actually really nice, just not much chemistry. The issue was all me and my intense need for food.**

We meet. He asked me out and set the time and place. Since I am new to dating I assumed we would be eating since it was around dinner time. RULE #1- never assume. I was so nervous beforehand that I almost puked on the way to meet him. I was sweating and just wanted to turn around and go home. I actually had to be talked into going by my sister and cousin. Maybe I did it for them, who knows, but I was a nervous wreck! We meet at one of my favorite bars, grab a drink and then head to the next place where I assume we will eat. Again, see RULE#1. As the night went on without nourishment, I didn't even know what he is saying because I was so hungry. I was picturing his face as a taco, a burger, pizza....any sort of carb that I could devour in seconds to make me feel human again. It wasn't that I was expecting HIM to buy me dinner, I would've done that myself. Everywhere we went didn't have food! By the time he caught onto my hunger face, it was time for me to go home. I've got kids, can't be out all night ya'll. Can't a dude warn a gal if we aren't going to eat? I may be little, but I love me some grub.

No second date there either.

The most recent wasn't even a date. Pretty sure I am getting worse as time goes on. I was out watching the World Cup and met up with my sister and a friend. It was a hot day and we were table sharing with some randoms in a beer garden. On a whim my friend said "Introduce ourselves to these guys. Ready. Set. Go!" I get to talking with one that was actually pretty good looking. Turns out we both have the same type of dog. After showing pictures he mentioned that he frequents a dog park near my house and that we should get the dogs together sometime. I reply with- My dog will kill other animals, we don't do dog parks. Poor guy tries again saying... Well my dog is pretty big, we can give it a shot. I reiterate by saying.. I don't think you get it. My dog will KKKKIIIIIILLLLLLLLL other animals. Like maul them. No joke. After the third time of me saying that, he and his friend just got up and left. No goodbye, nothing. It confused me because I could tell he was interested. That's when I learned about RULE #2- read between the lines. Homeboy Ron, Juan, whatever his name was didn't give two poops about the dogs, it was a way for us to meet up.

Not even a first date there.

I decided to up my game today. When a very nice looking and I mean very nice looking man glanced at me in the grocery store, I pretended to not notice. Then when he did the walk past, turnaround and smile at me move I GLARED AT HIM! I glared at the poor, innocent, good looking man for smiling at me! I was so into picking out my produce and pushing my kids around in that giant fire truck cart that's 10 times my size, that I couldn't even smile at a hottie. Someone slap me!

He even had a beard. I love beards.

Don't even get me started on the whole online dating thing. I really, really, really don't get that one. I've heard so many horror stories. I actually find them humorous since they didn't happen to me, but still.....not appealing at all. One of my favorite people of all time did the online thing and then would blog about it after. That was some golden reading material if you ask me! Another good friend of mine did the online thing for awhile while living in Seattle, and had some real interesting tales. The best was going on a double date and the guys showed up in matching shirts that were different colors. The plot thickened when he went on about his obsession with ferrets. Claiming they were just like cats that haven't grown up. He owned many and juggled them. Yes, you read that right, juggled them. They then went to some show where he got so into whoever was preforming that he kept doing high kicks. He didn't have a phone, so he asked my friend if he could keep in contact via email..

His email went into the trash folder for sure.

How she got matched up with him I will never know. She is normal. Talk about Match.wrong.

So you see, the thought of having to pay a babysitter $10 an hour to take a chance on a ferret loving high-kicker seems absolutely awful to me. I would much rather be around my favorite people drinking boxed wine and laughing so hard that I cry, or be with my kids.

The Range of Change

Change.

Like a lot of things in life, change can be good or bad, welcomed or uninvited. Change doesn't really give a damn if you are ready for it or not. Sure our actions can speed up the process or the outcome of certain changes, but at the end of the day we never have total control.

Ugh, control....another word I have beef with.

With so many changes coming my way i'm really starting to feel torn. Literally. Half of me feels so wonderful, free, and excited for all the amazing things down the road. However, the other half feels like its buried under so many layers of shit, that it won't be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel anytime soon. Trying to get these two sides to meet in the middle and join forces is like trying to get my almost 5 year old to wipe her own rear end- impossible.

My Mother wrote to me often from the time I was born, until I was about 6. Most of these letters were saved in my baby book. The majority were your basic milestone notations, etc. I recently found one from shortly after my parents divorced and it really hit me -I am the same age as my Mother when she left my dad. My girls are also the same ages my sister and I were. I am so thankful my mom wrote to me as often as she did. Until now, I always thought it was just to document things, and while that may be the case, I now know she also did it because she was lonely. My Dad worked hard and drank even harder back then, and my Mom was all alone. As I read her letter, she went on to tell me how I have adapted so well to all the changes and have had no visible problems stemming from my parents split, but that I am one that conceals her feelings a little too well. I was 5. She was dead on though. To this day, I have the same problem. Every person has a threshold, the point where they just can't hold it in anymore. Everyone handles it in a different way. Some choose to walk away from the situation, feeling that's best. Others express emotion and try to work it out, and some people give both a try. I've leaked that emotion out a few times now, but not nearly as much as I should have given the circumstances. I've been heartbroken about what it's doing to everyone and everything around me, just not as upset as I should be over what it's doing to me and the other person involved. I'm somewhat of a contradiction that way I suppose. A huge lover at heart that wants rainbows and unicorns shitting glitter at all times, but it has to be something within my control, and when I find it's not, I just turn off the light. But not until I try and turn the situation back into something I can control about 10 times first! #controlfreak. I do however, refuse to become bitter because my life didn't stay in the perfect bubble everyone thought I lived in- complete with the dog and picket fence.

Since one person can't singlehandedly control all the changes around them they have to sit back and let it ride every so often, just hoping that their intentions were right and the outcome is what was meant to be. I find so much strength in my girls, which is crazy because they wear me out daily! I can't protect them from all that is happening now, I just hope I give them enough love each day that they feel as little of the pain as possible. I have been viewed in many different ways during this crazy time, both good and bad. Being a people pleaser, dealing with people not on my side has been wildly difficult. The good thing about that now is that my skin is just a little thicker. I could sit here and be angry that I am currently in a place I vowed to never be, literally. Knowing I chose it could only make it worse. Or I could embrace the change, even if it's nothing but rough waters for a bit, and just be damn thankful I know how to swim.

Size Does Matter

Size does matter.

Now get your minds outta the gutter folks, this is regarding my useless skin bags, aka the baby feeders. These puppies have been mentioned briefly many times before in the bloggy, but I really want to get down to the nitty gritty and get some stuff off my chest. Not that there's much left. Hahahaha get it!?!? 

I've never been blessed with the chest, but things have really hit a new low since having kids. Mom's- I know there are more of you out there that feel me here!? There was a brief time where I was a D cup and popping out of my shirt, but that came along with a 68lb weight gain and an infant. It also looked as if my boobs literally ate my neck. Not cool.  Now what's left looks like stretched out balloons, that have no feeling and can't even fill out a T-shirt properly. I've been called every name in the book over the years- mosquito bites, AAA, itty bitty. I could keep going but I'm having flashbacks of my youth riding home on the school bus. They are small. I'm used to it. I own it. Would it be nice to not look like a teenager? Sure, but it is what it is. It would also be nice to not have my stomach stick out past my chest after consuming 80% of a pizza to myself in one sitting on a lonely Friday night. But hey, I could also cut back on gorging that many carbs at once. I highly doubt that will ever actually happen though.

I couldn't even feed my babies with these things. Hence the name "useless skin bags." I tried it all. Working with an awesome lactation consultant, aka Boobie Queen. Pumping prior to birth. I remember sitting on the couch during the end of my pregnancy with baby #2, hand expressing milk while holding a syringe to the end of my boob, just trying to get as much colostrum saved up as possible. It took me weeks to save up enough for about 5 feedings when she was born- if that. It was like searching for liquid gold. Literally. I ate special cookies to help. Not thoooosseee kind of special cookies either. Eventually, I had to face the fact that these mini jugs just weren't going to cooperate.

The biggest slap in the face wasn't when I couldn't feed my kids, or when I bent over and noticed they look like the ends of bananas. It was when I recently discovered that Nordstrom doesn't even sell my size in the women's department. WHAT THE FRENCH TOAST PEOPLE?!!? What am I supposed to do? Resort to getting one from the kids section that's neon colored with bedazzlement that's totes cool, and says something like YOLO or BFF on it?!

I think I'll pass on that, and I'm about to pass on wearing one all together. Ok, not really.

A Finely "Polished" Poo

Shit got real (literally) when my 4 year old hollered for toilet assistance recently. While I was super thrilled that she actually went on her own without a fight, I had just taken a solid 5 minutes to myself and painted my nails right before I was summoned to the scene of the crime. I had two choices, try and help her, or create a stall tactic and buy some time so my nails could dry. Because lets face it, I was out of nail polish remover and wasn't going to haul to kids to Target to get more once I ruined my paint job wiping tush. I would walk out of there spending $100 dollars on clearance items that end in a .48 or .98 (Frequent Target shoppers know the drill there) when all I really needed was polish remover for .97 cents.

So what do I do? I walk in the bathroom, turn on some music, and do a little potty dance to help buy some time while the freshly painted nails on my baby hands dry. I'm fairly certain that if my life was recorded, I would have a nice savings account by now. Not for my dancing skills, but for all the randomness that happens around here on the daily. Kaelyn started at me with the OH MY GOSH MOM face for about two seconds, wiped her own rear, and high tailed it outta there. I guess it was really a win for me since she finally took matters into her own hands, again...literally...and I got some cardio in for the day with my dance moves, since we all know I don't work out. I got cocky for 2 seconds, clenched my fist, and did a little yesssssssssssss dance move to myself to celebrate the fact that my kid finally wiped her own ass.

That is when I ruined my freshly painted nails ya'll.

Off to Target we go. I walked out with ziplock bags, toothpaste, Clorox wipes, diapers, an owl t-shirt and undergarments. Didn't even think to get the nail polish remover. Target is evil, pure evil.

Some days the girls are just growing up too fast for this Mama's liking. While I am THRILLED my oldest finally wants to use the toilet alone, other areas of growth are creeping me out. Last week I walked down the street to get her from playing with the neighbors. Ben is one of her "boyfriends" and as she walks toward me I see her turn around and put her hand on Bens face. She said goodbye and as she walked away she said..."I'll kiss you later Ben, on the face!" WHHHHHHATTTTTTTTTTT?! Little Leah chimes in and says "Yeah on the face!" while throwing her fist in air. My little lover and my little fighter, two complete opposites.