Last week I did something strange.
A friend of mine sent me a text Friday night and asked if I wanted to get together Saturday morning. She said she would even bring me coffee. Ordinarily, free coffee would make me do just about anything, but getting to hang out with my BFF and drink free coffee? Sounded like a slam dunk to me.
I looked at my phone and paused. Something didn’t feel right.
My kids had just returned from two days with my in-laws. They were in bed shortly after they arrived home that day so I hadn’t been given much time to be with them. I missed them.
Rather than text my friend back with an emphatic YES as well as my coffee order, I replied with, “Ya know, this is kind of weird… but we just got Lily and Levi back after two days and I think I really wanna just spend some time with them.”
That’s right, folks. I declined adult interaction and free coffee to hang out with Lily and Levi.
Well that’s weird. Continue reading
I love bed.
I love sleeping, falling asleep, waking up and going back to sleep, all of it. Sleeping is one of the best ways I spend 5 hours of my day. I didn’t used to feel this way. In my time before kids, going to bed was just something my body made me do. And naps? Forget about it.
I love bed.
Lillian, for the most part, does not. Oh sure, there are nights where she asks to go to bed with her words. “Mom, night night.” There are also nights, though, when she tells me she’s ready for bed via an interpretive dance which includes, but is not limited to, screaming, flailing her limbs, chucking herself to the floor, and more screaming.
More often that not she knows that when I say it’s time for bed, it’s time for bed. She doesn’t pitch a fit, but she does attempt to find any excuse to prolong being lifted up into her crib. The conversation goes something like this. (I don’t write toddler dialect well so rather than have you try to decipher what she’s saying I’ll just put it in standard English.)
“Lils, it’s time for night night.”
“No, Mom! Daniel Tiger!”
“No, we’re done watching T.V. It’s time for bed.”
“No. No Jake and the pirates either. It’s time for bed.”
Her shoulders slump as she walks towards me, then perks up. Continue reading
The whole premise of this blog and my future book (assuming a publisher buys it) is the idea that I was completely unprepared for having kids. One of the things I had never thought about was “mommy guilt.”
Mommy guilt is an all consuming force that you can’t shake off or remove from yourself nor can you stuff it down with ice cream or Doritos. Once the baby exits the womb, mommy guilt rears its ugly head and perches upon your shoulder for eternity. My first moment of mommy guilt was when I had to ask Luke to change Lillian’s diaper in the hospital because I was a bit too sore to get out of bed. “I’m her mom. I should be doing this,” I thought as Luke changed her.
And so it begins. Continue reading
Many of you were wanting my take on camping with little kids. I’ll begin by saying that this will not be a super positive review of the experience.
I don’t think I like camping. I think I like the idea of camping. Of waking up to a chilly morning, quietly drinking my coffee by a campfire while listening to the sounds of the world waking up. A bird chirps. A squirrel whizzes by. Ah, camping. The day progresses in a slow, sedated lull. I wander with my campmates through a hike or down the coastline for a relaxing walk. In the evenings, we all don an extra layer and drink hot chocolate with Bailey’s around the campfire until it’s time to curl up in our sleeping bag and quickly drift off to sleep, the fresh air doling out to us the best night’s sleep we’ve ever had.
That didn’t happen though. Even without kids it wouldn’t have happened. Camp coffee always has grounds in it. I’m freezing cold from about 5pm until 3pm the next day regardless of how many layers I wear. I didn’t have any Bailey’s. I also didn’t have my fan who’s sole purpose is to offer white noise so falling asleep to the sound of… well, nature, didn’t really work for me.
Oh, right. And then there’s the kids. Continue reading
We can all agree that kids make some poor choices. They eat crayons, consider the bookshelf their personal Everest, and would rather sit in the toy box instead of, you know, play with their toys.
I think there are a number of ways that kids get it right though. Here’s just a few.
All they want to eat is junk food. Well duh! Who doesn’t want a diet comprised solely of goldfish crackers, fruit snacks, cookies, and juice all day, every day? Screw broccoli; bring on the bacon cheeseburgers!
They don’t want to wear pants. Or any clothes for that matter. One thing I can count on happening every day is my kids whining and moaning when I insist on getting them dressed. They fight. They squirm. Their limbs turn to jello. It’s just a shirt, guys! It’s not the apocalypse. But on those hot days (okay, 80 degrees) when they can run around in just a diaper, I can’t say I’m not a little envious. Continue reading