Mom Thoughts

1) They should make toilet seats that change color when there is water/ pee on them. Especially for public bathrooms where small children pee. I’m tired of having a wet butt because I couldn’t see the water before I sat down…God I hope that’s water.

2) Does pool water really change color when you pee in it? Is it worth the risk? Probably not… This is why we swim in lakes.

3) Why do my kids always have to poop first thing in the morning? I’m tired of having shitty mornings…Maybe they are too?

4) Do my babies understand anything I’m saying or do they just think I’m some sort of weird ape that feeds them and babbles nonsense?

5) I should send a thank you letter to the person who invented dry shampoo.

6) *looks at baby food package* My kids eat way better than I do! *tastes baby food* Oh God what is this trash?! Way to overpromise and underdeliver Gerber. Props to your marketing team for making this gruel look appealing.

7) Maybe if I dress the kids in really cute outfits people won’t notice that I look like I’m a bag lady.

8) Who tf told me that I was qualified to be a Mom? Me?!…Clearly I should have checked my references first. Is it too late to fire myself or should I just do a write up and some coaching on this one?

9) *After disciplining children* Jesus H. Christ! If this is karma for the shit I pulled as a child then I’m not sure how my mother resisted the urge to kill me…We’ll blame this on my Husband’s bad behavior. That makes more sense.

10) Dear God please let that be spilled juice on my leg and not baby pee!

Ooo That Smell!

Yesterday as we headed to a friend’s house we were assaulted by a horrid smell. The Hubs said that he smelled something as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat. What was it? Dog poop?…Again?! We both checked our shoes…Nothing. The Boy checked his…Nothing. Maybe we were imagining things. I sniffed my clothes…Nope. Just dryer sheets and a little dog smell. We got to the stop sign at the end of our street and put the Mom Van in park.

I got out and looked in the backseat. There didn’t seem to be anything obvious. Two old bottles from that morning passed the sniff test. A tutu worn that morning smelled a little funky but not the correct odor. We made The Boy sniff around in the third row. He smelled nothing. I sniffed the babies and braced for our first in-car diaper blowout. They passed the sniff test too. We agreed that driving with the windows down was a good idea.

We drove on. I insisted that it must be him. He checked his boots again. We turned the air up and the smell got worse. Maybe it’s my shoes? They did get wet the other day. I took off my sandals and we both sniffed them. Not a great smell. Well maybe that was it? I sniffed them again. Nope. Feet and leather wasn’t the smell we were looking for. I looked at his pants. Maybe they sat too long in the wash? Nope. Dryer sheets again. We sniffed our pits. At this point we agreed that the smell was coming from below us and was on his side of the vehicle.

We pulled over after the next red light and got out in a grocery store parking lot. The Boy asked what was wrong with us. Obviously his nose was blessedly broken because this smell was rank. The Hubs took off his boots and sniffed them. He passed them to me to sniff. Foul but the wrong smell still. I felt that the smell we were trying to sniff out smelled like dirty booty and sour milk. He said it smelled like rancid dog poop. Whatever it was was bad. We stood in the parking lot at a loss for where the smell might be.

He remembered that he’d felt something squish when he moved his seat backwards to get into the driver’s seat. We looked at each other with shared fear of what we’d find when we moved the seat up. As he slowly moved the seat forward, the smell escaped like some sort of evil genie. Even The Boy could smell it now. Jesus Christ it was bad! We were afraid to look. I was sure that we were about to find an exploded old poopy diaper lodged under the seat. As the seat moved a blue box was revealed. A squished blue Tupperware freezer box to be precise.

God knows how long that thing had been there! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it. Shout out to Tupperware for making products that can contain that kind of stink for so long. There wasn’t even any food it it just some bits and pieces stuck here and there. No clue as to what had once been housed in it other than a spoon resting on the inside. He scowled at me. I laughed then gasped for fresh air. The Tupperware lover in me silently wondered if the old girl could be saved. The Hubs read my mind and said it had to go. There was no way we could keep driving now that we’d opened Pandora’s Tupperware of Stanky Booty Juice. We pitched it, spoon and all and got back in the van. I giggled. He laughed. We drank in the fresh air.

Self-reflection

It’s 10:30 at night and I’m sitting in my kitchen listening to the coffee pot spit and splutter while I brew up a giant pot of herbal tea. I wonder absentmindedly if our stomachs make similar sounds when we digest. Tonight I have forced myself to slow the hell down. My mind is uneasy. I could go to bed but I know I’ll just flop around like a fish and get irritated. So I’m sitting here taking in the gurgles and breathing in the floral scent drifting from the coffee pot.

I don’t particularly care for this brand of self care. I prefer the distraction kind. The kind that says “treat yo-self!” or “lets read and pretend that life doesn’t exist!” I even prefer the horrible self care that comes with cleaning. I do not like the quiet, reflective, think through your crap type of self care. I do a lot of thinking when I write but I always see it as something fun, not something necessary. Tonight it is part of my something necessary. I suppose that makes you, Dear Reader, part of my something necessary too.

It’s so easy lately to be hard on myself. I normally bumble along somewhere between quiet confidence and a giant ego. I make it a point to recognize my shortcomings and flip them the bird. Lately though, I’ve felt my swagger slip. It’s harder to laugh at the things eating away at me. Trying to balance all of the facets of my life seems insurmountable today and I find it hard to muster up the pep talk that I need to carry on. My pre-baby weight is back and all in the places that I don’t want it to be. I’ve been making great strides with my housework but I’m not where I want to be. I’ve missed two days of my 40 day challenge and no end in sight to all of the things that I need to do. My head is aching. I worry that my girls need me around more. I am making problems in my head where there are none. Mountains out of molehills if you will.

I know this. I know that I am not all of the horrible things that my stupid anxiety is telling me. I know as I sip my tea and breathe in the sweet smell that I am strong enough to tackle tomorrow. That the one day or two days or however long this funk lasts, will not break me. In this moment, I choose happiness. I choose to tell the dark thoughts to kiss my exhausted butt. I choose to slow down and reflect on the victories in my day: the giggles of my girls as I chased them around, their big grins when I went to pick them up, the load of laundry that I washed, the clean dishes in the dishwasher, the perfectly brewed pot of tea…

The 40 Day Challenge Continues…

Alright so I’ve had a couple slip ups along the way with my 40 bags in 40 days Lenten promise but I’m at the correct number of bags so I’ll call it a win. I find that it’s changing my life in weird ways. I’m realizing just how much stuff I’ve been holding on to because I was too busy, too lazy, too whatever to get rid of it. I literally filled a garbage bag with stuff from my pantry this weekend that was well past it’s expiration date. Same with the refrigerator and the medicine cabinet. It’s a wonder I haven’t killed all of us with expired consumables.

I had no idea it would feel so good to clean out my pantry. It also started me thinking about how I snack based on what I see. I try to organize my refrigerator so healthy snacks are easily accessible and on eye level. (Thank you college marketing class!) My pantry was a different story (obviously) and Holy Hell Batman! It looked like crap in there. I’d become blind to it because I saw it all the time while I mindlessly munched on whatever was easiest to reach or complained about not having anything good to cook.

So that’s my before picture. It looks sooo bad! It was actually even worse because that bottom section had a bunch of crap in it too before I took the picture. The Boy is a tiny little neat freak when he gets the cleaning bug and is very happy that’s I’m cleaning up the house. It took most of a day, a garbage bag, a fight with a stupid drill, a trip to Target for this awesome door organizer, and a trip to Walmart (I thought they’d have the door organizer but they didn’t so I just got this cool can rack and a couple of these boxes) to get my awesome results. I breathe a sigh of relief every time I open the pantry now.

There have definitely been side effects to this pantry cleaning though. It’s made me want to clean and organize the rest of the house. I despise cleaning, just ask my Mom. I hate it so much that I even put it in my online dating profile. (I’m sure to remind my husband of this anytime he complains about the house being dirty.) Cleaning stresses me out. But with this challenge I’m facing the ugly things that upset me and I’m doing it one bite at a time. I’m digging through the cabinets that I just avoid or coming to terms with my body by giving away the clothes that don’t fit anymore. I’m really glad that I did this and I definitely recommend it. The positive reinforcement from my husband helps too. He’s keeping me supplied with hugs and snacks and comments about how nice my butt looks when I’m cleaning. Haha! Can’t fault the man for trying his best to make this stick.

Weekend Recap

Wooh Buddy! The kids were on a roll this weekend! I have about a thousand mini stories to tell so I’ve broken it down into another one of my crazy lists for ya’ll.

1) The Leotard:

Crazy Eyes wants to wear her new leotard 24/7. Daddy bought it for her on their Daddy daughter date a week ago and I’ve had to fight her to take it off ever since. She keeps it not in her drawer, but in the treasure box that her Grandy made for her. When I asked her about it she said, “yeah, it’s treasure!” Right as I opened my mouth to remark on how sweet that was she followed it up with, “my underwear is treasure too!” and a big grin. I had to explain to her that dirty underwear belongs in the laundry basket not in her treasure box.

2) Breastfeeding

My bonus children are both fascinated and grossed out by nursing. They hadn’t been around it much before The Twins were born and we had to have a few weird conversations along the way. (One particularly memorable one occurred after The Boy walked in while I was pumping. After showing him a video of cows being mechanically milked we started calling it “cow time” anytime I pumped.) This weekend Crazy Eyes asked “Deedee, when I was a baby did you feed me from your booby?” (Yes, she said booby.) The Boy of course thought this was gross. We then had to have the Booby Milk discussion all over again. He wanted to know if boys could make milk. I bit my tongue and said no even though I know that its possible and was a practice among some cultures. I hate it when I have to lie but sometimes the can of worms just isn’t worth opening, especially when I know its going to tick off their Mom.

3) Dead Snake Attack:

My Husband is an evil, terrible man. Not really but he did try to give me a heart attack this weekend. He asked me to come outside to look at some things that he was planning for the yard and to help him move some stuff around. Little did I know, he’d planted a dead snake next to one of the items that we were moving. I screamed and nearly peed my pants. I also said several choice words. He couldn’t stop laughing. He’d made it look so alive! Jerk. As you can see, it was super convincing.

4) Creepy Jesus Songs by Crazy Eyes:

I swear, the shit this child comes up with. Saturday morning we lay in bed listening to Crazy Eyes make her sisters laugh over their baby monitor. She likes to be the first one they see in the morning when she’s at our house. She started out singing and cooing to them but then the singing got weird. Her soft melody took on a hard rock quality (not unusual for her really) and her subject matter got dark. Suddenly she was singing about monsters in their room and how Jesus was going to protect them from the monsters. Good message I guess but wow the delivery was weird. She assured us that she just wanted to let them know not to be scared because Jesus protects them. We don’t call her Crazy Eyes for nothing.

5) Laughing, Gagging, Crying:

As part of my 40 bags in 40 days challenge I decided to clean out my refrigerator. You know, throw out all the expired condiments (in our case pretty much everything except for mayo and mustard) and get rid of the weird stuff lurking in the back. I don’t know what possessed me to do it but when I found an expired carton of heavy cream I thought that pouring it down the drain was a good idea. Clearly I’m an idiot. The smell didn’t even have time to hit my nose before I was gagging. All I had to do was get a glimpse of the horrors inside that damn carton and it was retch city. I was on the phone with my Mom and laughing so hard between gags that I had tears pouring down my face. Every time I tried to explain what was happening I’d either retch and then laugh. I couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous I was being. I had to stop cleaning because every time I thought about it I’d start gagging again and then start laughing. My stomach hurt so bad once I finally settled down. I’m giggling just writing about it.

So that’s just a glimpse into our weekend. We also went on a walk, ate some tasty food (thanks Mom!), and enjoyed our family time. I also completely redid our pantry but I’ll tell you more about that later.

Mud Pies

This past weekend I let my twins play in the mud for the first time. It was amazing! They were covered in it! The Hun even tried to eat it.

I got right in there with them and got a little muddy too. It reminded me that sometimes I need to chill the hell out and just play with my babies. I’ve been super uptight lately and I’m getting on my own nerves.

A couple years ago, before they moved here, The Boy and Crazy Eyes came down to visit. I tried to get them to play in the mud and they cried. I think they were 4 and 2. I had to get in the mud and put it on myself before they stopped freaking out. Maybe they thought they were going to get in trouble. Maybe they were scared of getting dirty. I never figured it out. By the end of the day they were sold on mud pies and haven’t looked back. You can see how happy they were that first time. They were so little. Now I have to chase them out of the mud anytime it rains. Once Crazy Eyes even coated herself in wet ashes from the fire pit. It was so gross and she was super pleased with herself.

Do yourself a favor and slow down and do something ridiculous with your kids. Get muddy. Get dirty. Have a dance party. Try and guess jelly bean flavors. Play hide and go seek. Find a way to laugh and enjoy them while they are little. You won’t regret it. Just make sure you wash your feet before you go back inside.

Pop’s Advice

This month makes one year since I lost my Pop. He was my Bonus Grandfather but that description seems inadequate. It somehow lacks the energy and love that he was full of. He was also often full of a wonderful mix of wisdom and hot air. An Army Veteran and seasoned businessman, his extensive vocabulary was peppered with some interesting and creative phrases. He called the forgetfulness that came with old age “mad cow.” My personal favorite was “shit bird” which he used to describe anything that he’d forgotten the name for.

I was 18 when I met Pop for the first time and in the 10ish years that I knew him he gave me a lot of advice. His favorite phrases and sayings are too many to list here. Anyone who knew him has their favorites. I loved it when he said “Saying you’ll give something 110% is stupid because you can’t give more than you have.” Anytime I hear someone say 110% I giggle a little inside.

The advice that has been running through my mind a lot lately has helped shape my relationships with other people. He once told me that when a friend is going through a rough time you shouldn’t say “call me if you need anything” or “let me know if you need some help.” I remember making a face when he said that but he told me to hold on and let him explain. He went on to say that when someone is in need you do what you need to do to get to them and say “what do you need right now?” It doesn’t sound like a big difference. The thing is, when trouble arises tons of people say “let me know how I can help” or “just let me know if you need anything.” It feels like an imposition to answer though and when you’re stressed out and overwhelmed it can be hard to reach out. It can also be hard to figure out what people can help with. When someone tells you “what do you need right now?” it’s a lot easier to answer. You tell them what you need. The important part is that when your friend tells you what they need, you find a way to help. You take action. You show then that you are right there by their side. It’s about being present. It’s about being a friend who is willing to be there for the people you love when they’re in the shit.

Plenty of people asked what we needed help with when the girls were in the hospital. We appreciated all of it but it was hard sometimes to voice what we needed. When family and friends showed up and said “what do you need right now?” I was able to answer much easier. We needed some one to drive me to the NICU to see the girls when I couldn’t drive. We needed easy meals at home so we wouldn’t have to worry about cooking. I needed someone to keep me company and listen to me as I talked through the craziness of what was going on. I didn’t have to rack my brain for how people could help. I said what I needed and they supported us in whatever way they could.

Pop lived his life that way. Always there for the people he loved. He prized loyalty, friendship, integrity, and love over all things. He passed away the day we brought The Conqueror home from the hospital. We brought The Hun home the next day. I like to think that he checks in on us from time to time and looks out for us. I miss him very much but I carry him with me in the way I live. I know he’d be proud of that.

The Joy of Throwing Things Out!

For the past few years I’ve seen people doing this “40 bags in 40 days” challenge during Lent. I always found it intriguing but it seemed impossible. Get rid of one bag of stuff every day for FORTY days?! Insanity! I won’t have anything left. This year I decided to try it though. Im a few days in and… I LOVE IT!

I never thought I’d be so excited about getting rid of things that I’d spent my hard earned money on or been given. The first night I cleaned off my bedside table and my Husband’s. The next night I cleaned out the junk drawer in our kitchen. For God knows what reason we had two giant bottles of super glue in there and a ton of expired coupons and mason jar lids. (Seriously wtf made me think that all of that was supposed to go together?!) The night after that I filled a garbage bag with junk from The Boy and Crazy Eyes’ room.

Last night I picked a weird one and went through my nail polish. As I sorted out the keepers I put them into a box and put the trash in my bag. I didn’t think much about it until I looked into the box. I looked in and was surprised at just how happy it made me. No more ugly colors that I frown at every time I see them because they are ugly. No more colors that remind me of rough days in my past. No more dried up gross nail polish bottles. All that was left were things that I enjoyed. It was like I’d been given a shopping spree in my own custom nail polish isle. I was even able to put this smaller collection into a smaller box so that I could use the box for more important things.

It does the spirit good to get rid of the crap sometimes. I’m not really good at it but Lenten promises aren’t supposed to be easy. In my case, every bag I throw out or give away is a sigh of relief even if I’m grouchy while I’m getting to that point. I despise cleaning but I’m so tired of having a house full of stuff and still not being happy with what I have. I’d rather have less than have a whole bunch of stuff collecting dust because I don’t actually like it.

I’ve got 40 days of cleaning to do folks. Do me a favor and give me some suggestions on where in the house I can clean next in the comments.

We Have Met The Enemy…

“We have met the enemy and they are us!” This phrase was first used in its current form by Walt Kelly to describe the War in Vietnam. Naval commander Oliver Hazard Perry said the original phrase “We have met the enemy and they are ours” after a victorious battle during the War of 1812. There is a subtle but important variation between the two. Kelly implies that damage is self inflicted but Hazard conveys that the enemy is now in our control. Unfortunately for me, my currently life status tells me that “We have met the enemy and they are us!”

Balancing parenthood and work has shown me time and again that I’m often my own enemy. No one is perfect, and I’m not striving for that but it would be nice if Past Diana would give me a break sometimes and Present Diana would start planning a little better for the future. Take the time to maybe set my clothes out at night for the next day. Watch one less video on Facebook and draw for a few minutes instead. I complain about not having “me time” or “fulfilling time” when I know that all I need to do is push for it and I’ll get it. Fighting yourself for yourself can be difficult though.

Then there is the ugly, dark enemy: Self Doubt. She’s a colossal ass that I could do without. It’s so easy to talk myself out of being amazing when I let Self Doubt steer the ship. On the other end of the spectrum is my Ego. What person doesn’t want to think they are awesome?! Somewhere in the middle lie Humility and Confidence. They are allies but it’s so much easier to fall into the traps of Ego and Self Doubt and pretend they are my friends. It took me a couple of years to start this blog. I’d let Self Doubt creep in and tell me that my poor, fragile Ego just couldn’t take the failure if no one liked what I wrote. I was foolish.

Every day I strive to make the enemy mine and not let the enemy be myself. It’s a fine line. Do I hit snooze one more time and risk having a frazzled morning because I rushed to get out of the house or do I get out of bed and attack the day? Do I walk to the kitchen and throw that diaper away there or do I risk having to take time cleaning it up if the dogs fish it out of the bathroom trash? I’m pretty bad at it most days. The victories I have are probably “duh” moments for other people. A win is a win though right?

So here’s to You and Me today, Dear Reader! May our victories be large and our enemies small!

Bed Time and Mom Guilt

It’s 9pm and I’m lying here listening to my child scream her head off over the baby monitor. I know that she will stop after a minute or two but I hate it. It hurts to hear my babies cry. She’s done it every night for the past few nights. Lately every time I drop her off at the Sitter’s she screams and cries. Sometimes both of them scream and cry. It’s hard to handle before I’ve even gotten to work.

I read an article recently about how the “Cry It Out” method is bad for children. Unfortunately I have twins, a job, and every other weekend two other children to tend to. Before I had the twins I pictured myself rocking my babies to sleep every night. I can count on one hand the times that that has actually happened. One time it happened completely by accident. They used to fall asleep on my chest when they were itty bitty. They don’t even do that anymore. Now they just want to play and give kisses. I love that so much but I miss their little sleepy faces. Sometimes they have to cry a little so that I can survive. I tried soothing them to sleep for a while until I realized that I was going insane. We weren’t eating until ten every night and I was a miserable wreck. It made me a shitty parent and a shitty wife not to mention manager. So we cry it out (within reason).

The crying has stopped and now they are beating on the bars of their cribs with their bottles. From screaming babies to tiny jailbirds in five minutes. I hear them babbling to each other quietly. I thought all of that talk about twins having their own language was crazy until I heard these two. They have squeaked and babbled back and forth from the very first time they slept next to each other. They used to sound like little dolphins squeaking and clicking while they slept. I’d wake in the night sometimes because they’d get so noisy.

The bottle banging has intensified. It’s still better than the crying. Obviously I’d prefer they go to sleep but an empty bottle means a full tummy and that combined with a dark room and a white noise machine will lead to sleep eventually (at least I hope so). And just as quickly as I typed it they fell asleep.

This being a Mom thing isn’t easy. It’s damn hard. I could never have imagined the weird and complex things that I would feel. The Mom Guilt that comes so often has shocked me the most. I struggle with it every day when I drop them off or when I realize that I’ve been focused on work and not even thought about them. I love my job and I find it fulfilling but that doesn’t make it easy to leave them. I feel guilty when I am happy that they’ve gone to sleep so I can enjoy a moment or two of quiet. When instead of reading them a story I just give them a quick bath and get them tucked into bed.

It’s 9:20pm and I feel the exhaustion in my bones. The guilt will pass for the moment. I know in my heart that my girls are taken care of and loved. For now I’ll just sleep on it and hope for an easier bed time tomorrow.