Sianara!

So I am getting Christmas a few months early this weekend...and it's the only thing on my list about now.

Fireman is taking the kids, yes all THREE, camping.

How fun you say? What a great experience for them all, you add? I say Sianara!

Oh the visions I had when my children finished school for the summer! Late night swims, smores out back after BBQing all day with family and friends, family trips to the lake, sleeping late, I even have those books for them to work on during the summer so their brains don't turn into mush.

They start in a week and a half, and I can't wait.

I am exhausted. I can barely keep up. My beautiful system of cleaning, menu organizing, going to the gym, and laundry has been long gone.

It starts like this: "Mom, can I invite a friend over?" "Well can we wait and see for a bit, its 8 in the morning." or "Noah, do you really need to eat Top Ramen for breakfast?" and then I get the look that tells me there is no one available in his 13 year old brain to have a rational discussion with.

They have been waking up I'm sure by 7 am every morning, so they can sneak in Xbox time. They can't be bothered by their alarms during the school year that ring them awake at 7 am, but Xbox can. Do you have any idea how many times I have bolted half brained down the stairs to yell "turn that thing off NOW!"? Neither do I, but enough to want everyone to just leave.

Me being me, I wonder quietly and then out loud to Fireman, where did I go wrong? These kids have had 2 really nice boating vacations they probably feel entitled too. A beautiful backyard oasis to swim and play in. I even gave them a project and they painted our play structure themselves. We've planted a garden, gone to see movies, had their friends over for the night and visited with family. It seems that every waking moment needs to be filled with some sort of entertainment. And sometimes when push comes to shove, I say, "That's it! I'm sick of the fighting, I am sick of you all wandering around here like you have nothing to do!" then I pull the mommy dearest card out and add, "I have plenty for you to do!" I give them a magic eraser and make them scrub the grime of the doors.

Well, good riddance with ya'll, I say. I'm out of ideas and money! Fireman's turn. Have fun in the wild wilderness.

I will use my 2 days off well. I will visit some long lost friends, and eat lunch when I feel like it. I will sleep past 8 and not feel guilty. I am staying with my sister and my beautiful niece. It will be fun to play with her and spoil her, and then hand her to mommy when she is hungry or tired. I will shop with no intentions and watch True Blood without worrying about which kid will walk in on the nude or gory parts.

Yes Christmas came early...too bad it will only come once this year.

My Mother's Day...in the raw

So there is a reason I didn't write about Mother's Day before now. I both love and hate that day. I love the idea of having a day set aside on the calendar each year to remind everyone in our lives to celebrate us mommies and all we stand for.

I am fortunate enough to have a family that treats me really quite nicely that day. I am always spoiled on Mother's Day. And I truly love it. I love sleeping in until 8-ish because my body is so used to getting up by 7 every other morning, it doesn't recognize the occasion and therefore doesn't let me sleep any longer. I devour the strawberry crepes Fireman and the kids place on my lap while they all lay on my bed and huddle as close as they can to me. The coffee gets spilled and the food is cold...the flowers are beautiful. The presents are a heartfelt gesture- the homemade song from my 13 year old, the coupons for chores from my middle child, and the hand print from Cissy made my heart sing. Fireman even hung up his frugal hat for the day and splurged on a really cool car adapter for my iTouch, the kind that has to be professionally installed! Yes, I know, I am spoiled. For one day, anyway.

Every year on that Sunday, no matter how wonderfully I am being treated, or how much love I am shown by my adoring family, there is always a sense of loneliness and loss that's creeps into my heart. It starts the day before. As my thoughts drift to the festivities of the next day, while I am finishing up the house so I don't have a load of laundry staring me in the face on what is supposed to be a day of no chores. As I go through the motions...I am suddenly very aware of a growing throb in the pit of my stomach. Throbbing that doesn't stop until it is very much at the center of my chest and has made completely sure it has consumed my every thought. I know it is easily angered at my attempt to try and stuff it by the way it turns to a sort of disabling nausea. Just enough to make me unable to eat, unable to sit still and unable to feel any sort of contentment. It sits in the bottom of my stomach and rises and falls throughout the day into my throat. It gnaws at me, demanding attention.

And I know exactly what it needs. Every year. Same time and place. And I know deep down it doesn't go away on its own or because I tell it fervently that it is not welcome. It's like one of my kids- it needs attention. Raw attention. And it needs it at its convenience, not mine. By the end of the day, with the all the physical chores done, I decided to lean into this throb that continued to lie in my gut. I retreated to my closet. I sat on the floor next to the old paint spot. And I cried. I cried the ugly cry.

I miss her more every year. I need answers only she can give me. I need the unconditional love only she shared with me. I am jealous of everyone else whose Mother's Day plans involve their own Mother. I remember her Mother's Day routines. I miss them. I miss her. I ache for the warm touch only her hands could deliver. I am forever empty in the place only she could fill. My tears don't stop as easily as they started. I hate to lose myself in this seemingly endless pain and torture. Thinking my way out never helps it ease away. Tears do, though. A lot of them. And I slowly feel my way out.

It is as if my Mother is hearing my cries and actually feels my heartache, when my daughter walks into the closet. "Mommy? Why are you crying?" She sits down and holds my soaked snotty hand in hers. She waits until I can talk. "I miss my Mommy" I tell her. I start crying again. I hate to upset my children, but they are all very aware that their Mommy, doesn't have a Mommy. She sits quietly while I sob. I think she sat there for about 5 full minutes not moving, not squirming, not asking for anything. Just being. I realized the throb had dulled a bit. So I looked up and stared into Cissy's brown eyes. She smiled back at me and I pulled her little body into mine for a hug. I suddenly felt something I hadn't felt before. This is what I felt like to my Mommy for 23 years. It made me smile from the inside out. The throb lessened even more.

Yes, I realized the moment I gave life to my first born how my Mother's love was like no other. But, the love and tenderness exchanged from a Mother and daughter is really just different. Not to be judged, just different.

So, at that moment, I could relate in a way I had not seen before. I became very conscious of what my Mommy actually felt each time I hugged and held her. I am aware now of what that felt like to her. I am so thankful I was able to give her that kind of irreplaceable unconditional love in return, even if it was just for a short time. I take such solace in knowing she felt that from me in her times of need, especially in her final days here with our family.

I could feel the throb descend into an ache. The nausea subsided a bit. I held my little girl and my little girl held me. It was a quiet exchange of raw love. I enjoyed the feeling of her warm soft skin against my neck and arms. I savored the thought of what pure joy my little girl gives me daily and related it to the joy I must have given to my mommy.

This is what it feels like to be a mommy and to have a mommy. My feelings range different throughout the year, and can strike at anytime. This Mother's Day was so special in that I was actually made aware of something I had never thought of before...who and what I was to my mommy is now so clear and tangible to me, it has made my role as a mommy carry a whole different meaning.

I will always miss her, but this past Mother's Day, I truly felt a little closer to her than I had before. I like to believe she was giving me a Mother's Day gift all her own. Through my daughter she was showing me that love, our love, will never die.

Thank you, mommy!

So I am Selfish....SO WHAT?

OK- I am having one of those days...actually one of those weeks. I am increasingly wanting to act selfishly. And I really don't care. There is nothing pretty or flowery about this situation. I make no claims to be perfectly Martha Stewart at every moment in my life. This is one of them.

Fireman was home for a good few day stint after being at the station for 5 days (actually he has been home for 3 days in last 14, but whose counting?). I really took a load off when he arrived through that door. I hugged and loved on my hunky Fireman. I even cooked one night for the family while he was here to reap the benefits. I really missed him and knew he would be leaving again soon for a while. I nestled into a real cozy family while he was here. BBQing by the pool, letting time fly while I read my novel and he played with his babies. We watched movies that weren't rated G. I slept in while he hushed the kids so as not to wake me. I was in Heaven. Literal Heaven on Earth.

Then he went back to work. I woke up late- probably because I was starting to get used to it by then. I had saved up running my errands for when he did leave, and I have been racing to catch up since then. See, all my running the house hold routine takes a hiatus when Fireman is here. I don't cook because I love his cooking. I don't shop unless we absolutely need something. I don't do bills, I don't do laundry. We stay up late, we catch a movie or watch Dateline. We lounge in the morning after the kids leave for school and sip coffee, pour over the newspaper, and watch GMA. So the morning he leaves, I am busting butt trying to play catch up.

This week has literally taken its toll on every fiber in my body. I can't catch up with anything! Laundry seems to be going well, and a kid pees the bed. I have the day squared away, and the other kid calls from school urgently needing something he should of remembered on his own. On my way to the gym, the car is out of gas. Try to print important stuff off the computer...no ink. You get the point? Well, normally, I am go with the flow. This is my job as I see it. I am here to deal with those things. And I do.

However, this week, I have no desire to- at all. I have no patience with homework. I have no desire to drag a 5 year old around to my multiple stops during the day. I found myself actually trying to scour the Internet for how to make milk from a few ingredients in my cupboard- without luck- so I wouldn't have to go the store. My daughters normal darling way of musical talking incessantly has become just incessant. I have no patience for anything that doesn't involve me, a book or an ice cold beer.

Is this what the teachers mean when they say they can tell when the students are getting itchy for summer break? I can't figure it out. I am definitely ready for school to be out, but for way different reasons than the kids are. I am done with projects and riding my boys on their homework and GP A's. I am done making lunches, done missing my workouts, done rushing around in the morning, done rushing to after school activities, done worrying about having everything in life complete before 2:30 on Tuesday and Thursday, and by 12:30 on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

I don't know what is the cause of this shift in my brain. I am sure it has something to do with our beautiful weather lately. It has allowed my veins to get a small drip of what our Summer's are filled to the brim with. Boating trips, BB Q's with great friends, lazy days and nights with no where to be, and of course...beer (or whatever is being poured at the time).

All I can do is pray, vacuum, and kick-box my way to sanity right now. I got to hang in. I just have to find a way to compartmentalize my irritation and down right insanity at the goings on right now.

Until then, I am open to suggestions...though I give you fair warning, I am a red-head and not afraid to use it!

Life's That Way ---->

I just finished a really enchanting memoir. This book had me doing all the things I love to do with a really great story... laughing, crying the whole thing. I know it's a good book when I continue to re-hash its events over and over in my mind. The story will settle into an understanding I didn't have while reading it. Sometimes my perception changes of certain scenes. What was sad and depressing, actually makes a different kind of sense to me a week after completing the book. That, to me, is a really good book. This one was like that- I found myself thinking, and rethinking of the title. Life's That Way.


When reflecting on my own life, I recognize a very common theme. Common meaning we all as humans have the same circumstances in one way or another that make us feel and connect at a very human level, with very human emotions. It's recognizing this commonality that sets us apart because we all do it in different ways, different areas of the world under different circumstances and from different backgrounds.


My own journey has been one of multiple up, down and sideways events. I can look back still and remember sequences of life happening in such a way to have shaped my life as I know it now as if it were literally a few moments ago. Like when I was 9 and my dad had me drive my sister and I home from the stables we kept our horses at after dark on the I5 freeway from San Juan Capistrano to Mission Viejo. I can still feel my little legs tight against the steering wheel of the Mustang as I sat on his lap while he operated the gas and brake pedal. I can hear his voice warning me not to tell my mom that he had me driving I can smell his dirty alcohol stained breath as he coached me the whole way home. The memory was one like a good book is now, it didn't really bear any importance or value until a few months ago when I was folding towels letting my mind wander and this particular memory hit me upside the head. I had to sit down and allow myself to recollect the situation and mull it over and over to iron out details. It was fun and harmless then, it is not now.


What details grab me now didn't grab me at the time. The impact my own memior has on me as I was going through the living part of it didn't bear any resemblance to what it does now in my 34 year old psyche. My mothers soft touch of her hands on my face, a boyfriends breakup in high school, my sisters lighting in her room while she put on her makeup. Becoming pregnant for the first time at 21, watching my mother fight and succumb to cancer. The making and losing of dear friends. The absolute joys of raising my children. The warming feeling of unconditional love, and finding it in my husband. The moment I found out I was pregnant for the third time, feeling to my core it was my daughter. Becoming aware that my life goes on and on regardless of the seemingly endless experience of illness, prosperity, relationships, family drama, and general life is what absolutely makes my experience unique to anyone else.


What is not unique is that I have them. I experience everything everyone else does. Sure to different degrees and at different times, but really in my own perfect time. Losing my best friend during a childhood squabble paved the way I respond mentally and physically to similar situations as an adult.


I can remember at the time of my mothers death it was as if my world came to a screeching halt. What I realize now, is that life as I knew it then had stopped. I began to slowly begin living and feeling again, though differently. I can't remember exactly the moment, but I do remember having one of complete understanding. I understood that life would continue to happen all around me and through me constantly, at times so much so that I would have to consciously re-learn how to live, even when I didn't want to. I would need to constantly be adapting to whatever a particular experience imprinted on me into my new life.


The experience of having children is a great analogy. If you don't have them, you have no idea what to expect day to day mentally, physically, emotionally, and financially. If you have experienced the death of someone very close to you, relating to anothers aftermath is something you are capable of doing. The key is becoming aware that regardless of what life brings your way, it will go on. Differently.


I could relate to almost every raw word in this book I read. I picked it up sensing the title "Life's That Way" held the meaning of "well, that's just the way life is". In fact, it was a direction. LIFE IS THAT WAY ----> In other words, look around after life happens to you, it continues to grow and build, in another way. And when allowed, as I have experienced, it just gets more and more fulfilling with the ways it expands your level of compassion, endurance, happiness, sadness, wealth, contribution, and even kindness you show to your self and others. We choose our action and reaction based on what life has shown us, but hopefully we can remember to apply what life has just added to our suitcase that will never be to full, and continue following the signs that tell us, Life's That Way ----->

My Best Friend the Vacum

Well, it's official, though I do actually have a lot of great friends in my life, my BFF is my vacum.


I realized this last week while cleaning my house. Vacuum is always there and available when I need him the most. I will refer to Vacum as male, because a vacum seems masculine in the way he barges through the house, leaving no corner with dust in his tracks. Vacum listens to my rants about how unfair it is to be me. And Vacum is also there when I am joyous about the special occasions we are preparing for. Vacum never tells me to calm down or that I am being out of line, even when I throw him around recklessly.


Vacum knows all my intimate secrets. I trust him completely. He knows my desires, and fulfills them when I am most in need. We do have a love hate relationship. I hate pulling and pushing him all around the house (twice a week sometimes more). I hate the pain in my neck and back after a good session. However, I strongly believe, as with every relationship, you need to weigh the good with the bad. I spend the most time with him than with any other friend. He hears my woes without judgement. He is up and running when I say go. And all the while, no matter what mood he may find me in, he leaves me with such a sense of accomplishment. I am left feeling grateful. Grateful for my clean carpet. Grateful I have such a great friend to provide it for me and family. For some reason, he always knows what to do to make me feel better, or encourage me. He cleans. He knows the sense of pride it gives me. He allows me to take all the credit. I would be nothing without my Vacum.


When Vacum died out a couple times last week (don't worry, it was just a little cold) I was there for him. I nursed him back to health with the help of some needle nose pliers. As I worked whole heartedly to get him healthy again, I thought...what would I do without him? He restores my calm with his beautiful clean lines he leaves behind. They aren't just lines of clean carpet to me. They bring the calm centered peace into my brain that everything is right with the world. Its a special bond we share. As I gently (who am I kidding, I don't do anything gently) place him back in the closet, I thank him for the therapy session we have shared. I thank him for always being there to put my life back in order when all I feel is chaos. I leave him with a mental promise to return soon. But I am sure he knows that by now.

Some people meditate, I vacum.

Working Mommies or Stay at Home Mommies?

OK- I love Facebook, especially when it sparks a debate. Controversy is fun to me. Last week I posted a comment, "I cant believe how much work it is to be a stay at home mom!" BOY! You all had a lot to say. So I decided to post a blog about it. Yep, today I'm going to forgo the bon-bons and Oprah, so I can let you all in on MY opinion about this touchy subject.

I am a stay at home mom. I decided to stay home when my third child was 1. I love being a home based mommy. I wouldn't change it for anything at the end of the day, BUUUUTTTTTT.... I do find myself longing for my old professional life as a Registered Nurse every once in a while. Like when everyone on our street calls for Fireman to help with a medical problem, or get advice for their sick loved one. I still know now what I knew then people! But for some reason, because I am now the "stay at home" parent without a "real job" I am no longer the go to gal! Ahhh... trade off's. As in everyones life, somedays are rewarding, and some...not so much.

I took particular notice to some of the mommies responses. A lot of you compared your situation to others, or maybe mine. Maybe you just wanted to get a good old fashion pat on the back. Maybe you feel as if you are the only one doing what you do, and no one else except for a select few could possibly understand. Bottom line is, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHAT YOUR LIFE IS LIKE...you live it. Aren't all of us mommies in the same boat really? Don't we all just want our children to have better lives than we had? Don't we all try to teach them to the best of our ability? Don't we all try to be there for every amazing moment in their lives, good or bad?

I am the only one who wakes up reluctantly, only to hurry and get the coffee and three kiddos going. I am the only one who walks around my house with a magic erasure in my back pocket for emergencies. I am the only one who battles the internal guilt over almost every single word to my children throughout the day. Did what I just say be the ONE thing they remember for the rest of their lives? Will they be in therapy one day because of what I just said? Or will they be forever ruined because of what I didn't do? No one else has lived my childhood experiences and turned into ME. But does that internal dialogue sound a little familiar? Your a liar if it doesn't, working mommy or not!

Just to indulge myself I will tell you. My mommy was the absolute best mommy. She was always there for me, she brought in cupcakes and meatballs to my classroom. When my dad and her separated, she went to work full time and though that should have been a really hard time, she made it seem less. My mommy died when I was 23 and my first born was 18 months. I was married a year- and I had just realized how much I was going to need her. The past almost 12 years without my mommy made me realize a way of life not everyone shares. This is neither good or bad...it just is.

Ask my sister in law...a very loving, involved mother of two beautiful girls. She works full time, has a very corporate job. We discuss child rearing ALL THE TIME. Why? Because we both realize we do it different and it is interesting. She is the only mother I personally know who routinely stocks and re-stocks freshly cut and diced to perfection veggies for her girls. I have never (well, not never, but you know what I mean) done that. The girls have a better balanced diet than anyone I know, including all my stay at home mommies! Her girls are the loves of her life. Is she less of a mother because she is also in the corporate world? So many heated opinions ensue over this. To me the answer is simple...she chooses what works best for her and her family. She has her own daily minute by minute struggles. Her family runs differently than mine, that is it.

I am kinda getting this vibe that us mommies feel we are better than the other mommies because they are single mommies, or have no family support, have no money, or work, or don't work, you fill in the blank. Quite frankly I have been guilty of this type of judgement before...before my second child was born, before I was a stay at home mom, before I started gaining weight with every bite of ice cream... I've learned that while I have my opinions, I am in no ones shoes but my own.

So when I didn't volunteer to be the classroom mom the second year my third child was born, I am sure there were whispers. At least the voices in my head told me there were. It went something like this; "Well she certainly CANT do it all now can she?" or "Now her son will really suffer the middle child syndrome!". All the mental mistake movies my mind plays over and over is enough to drive me to drink, and I do. Often. And maybe I wont be a size 6 forever. And maybe my kids can live a long life eating Tater Tot Casserole... Yeah, I realized, I am no where near perfection. But then again, neither is anyone else I know.

So I compromise, now I take pre-baked cupcakes instead of homemade. I use emailing the teachers instead of walking to the classroom everyday to touch base...so what? At the end of the day, I only truly care what my kids think. I ask them all the time...Do they think I am a good mom? What would they change? We have quiet intimate moments together individually that lead me to where I need to go with my babies.

If your a supermom in your kids minds...welcome to MY club! Its the only one that matters! If your not- change your life for them. Not because of what society says is politically correct. Celebrate you and friends raising diverse children from all types of dysfunctional families! After all...we made it didn't we?

Oh- and please throw your comments and opinions my way. I love em!

The Day I Realized I Fit In Perfectly at Walmart

So Christmas this year is on a budget, or so I am telling myself. Fireman isn't bringing in the trusty overtime, but we always save throughout the year for the Christmas event. When the time comes to start spending, it doesn't matter what the budget is for the year, I am a frugal bargain shopper. I find a peculiar high in finding sales on already reduced merchandise. This is absolutely my favorite time of the year.


That said, I always no matter how hard I try to stay out of the Walmart, end up there for one reason or another. Now, I am no Walmart hater. I just prefer to steer clear of the relentless crowds, lines, and picked over items whenever possible. I don't care if sippy cups are $2 cheaper at Walmart than Target. Target is more my idea of thrifty shopping. It has cute jewelry, cute PJ's, fun stylish T-shirts for the sweat pants I wear everyday, etc...oh, and its void of the population who choose to look homeless when they are not. You all know exactly what I am referring to. There is a web site dedicated specifically for the purpose of exposing fashion and social no-no's on an hourly basis at Walmart. Now, these things happen everywhere we go, but for some reason you can count on it at Walmart, every minute of every day. It is just downright awkward sometimes.


Last week, in a valiant effort to finish my stocking stuffers, I went to the Walmart. I prepared my mind for what kind of crowds I would ride in on. I mentally accepted being pushed around by holiday shoppers all in the same isle I needed to be in, parking in the very back. I was perfectly OK with this scenario. It is Christmas after all.

To my surprise, I landed a wonderful parking spot without any problem. I smiled to myself as I strolled into the Walmart with my 4 year old in tow. I was feeling so confident, I didn't even force my daughter to sit in the shopping cart. I had a return to make, so the friendly little lady greeting me at the front door carefully stamped my items and I proceeded to the line of people waiting to do exactly the same.

It occurred to me suddenly that everyone in line looked, dare I say, normal? The only distraction was my 4 year old who would not stop pounding on the open computer kiosk next to us. I just pretended I didn't know who she was for a while. As I surveyed, people watched if you will, it hit me. I am the one this time in sweat pants I have worn two days in a row. My red hair is up on my head in a sloppy clip that doesn't match. There is no make up on my face, though I desperately need it. MY kid is the one running a muck. A women a couple people back is staring at ME!

I chuckled to myself. I kept ignoring my daughter who was by now climbing the wheelchairs next to the kiosk in her high heel dress up shoes. I continued waiting in the return line. I think I maybe shuffled my hair around and threw some lip gloss on. That's what the wheelchairs are for, I figured, and what a nice relief to not have to get out of your pajamas when you go shopping for once! These people surrounding me became my friends. I instantly knew they all had stories of why they are at the Walmart looking the way they do...and basically our common thread in humanity when it comes to the Walmart is; Who Cares????

Walmart is where all the highly educated and rich people go on an off day! It all makes sense now! You can let your hair down and be yourself while shopping up the deals! So you wake up in your mansion and just want some eggos- by pass all the grocery stores that require you to change out of your slippers and stop by the Walmart. You are always greeted warmly and I dont believe anyone would ever turn your business away based on what you choose or choose not to look like on any given day!

I relaxed and almost enjoyed watching my daughter, who I now realized looked as hairied as I did, dance around the carts and wheelchairs. Our return time came, and I found myself just happy to be comfortable. The six and a half inch multi colored nails on the older women checking my return didnt even faze me!