You. Are. SOOOOOOOOOOO. Embarrassing.

I knew this day was coming.  One day my little girl who used to look up at me with such admiration and awe would see me an roll her eyes and be mortified.  What I DIDN'T know was that I would become this giant loser by the time she was only 8. 
Lucky for me there are still glimmers of her being impressed by me.  Like when the girls in her 3rd grade class begged her to have me (ME!!) be a chaperone on a field trip because I look like a COOL mom and have pink hair.  (I'm COOL, people!)

But then the next day as I pull up to the curb in front of the school with the radio blasting and I'm belting out the lyrics enthusiastically she suddenly finds me horrifyingly embarrassing.  I totally don't get it.  Maybe it was the bright yellow and green St. Patricks Day pajamas I was still sporting? 

So I am resigned to the idea that I have entered full time dorkdome in the eyes of my pre-pre-teen.  So I might as well embrace it.  My ideas include but are not limited to:

1.  Dancing disco as I blare Justin Bieber in my car when I pick her up from school and shouting - "I've got the Bieber Fever!"  Maybe I can get a bumper sticker too....

2.  As she leaves for school I can ask her, loudly, if she remembered to put on clean underwear?

3.  While talking with her friends I can play with her hair and ask her if she'd like pigtails again like she wore on Saturday and I can put big pink bows in it too!

4.  Wear nothing but bunny slippers and duckie pajamas whenever her friends are around.

Hmmmm...any other juicy ideas out there?

Now take a look at these...really...embarrassing is in the genes.

Ok, so maybe it's a little more obvious in me.  Poor girl.

And So We Wander....

When as a mother, you get a moment to stop. Sit. Have a cup of coffee. And listen to....silence.

(Yeah right...)

No really. We get that now and then don't we? Kids at school, napping? If not, proceed to kitchen for frying pan and go beat on the man that impregnated you. Right now.

Ok, so here you are enjoying the silence. Some people use this opportunity to clean. (Ick) Watch TV, read...ok. Exercise (double, triple ICK) Me? I wander. In my mind...wander off. I'm sure other people do it. It can't just be me. But my mind truly is a Wonderland of things to discover and contemplate.

Sometimes I have deep meaningful thoughts and conversations in my head. But mostly...mostly...it goes something like this.

Ah...it's quiet in here. Bliss!
I should pick up those toys....nah.
Why is that Barbie staring at me?
Why is it naked?
Why is it always always naked?
I remember when my boobs were perky like that.
Why does my husband always grab my boobs when the kids "aren't looking"?
What does he find so appealing about me bending over the dishwasher?
I should take chicken breasts out of the freezer for dinner.
Last time I made chicken the kids said it smelled like feet.
Why does the boys' room ALWAYS smell like feet?
When is the last time they had a bath?
When is the last time I had a shower?
If I don't shave soon I am going to have to get me some Birkenstocks.
I should add granola to the shopping list.
That Barbie is still staring at me....

A day in the life

My middle son has a behavioral disorder. It still remains undiagnosed. We have several guesses on the table ranging from ODD (Oppositional Defiance Disorder) to a sensory disorder, to adjustment disorder.

At this point I don't really care what it is called I just want him to be normal.

He's a wonderful boy. He's handsome, athletic, smart as a whip and very sweet. The problem is, you never when he is going to snap. Just when I think I have a handle on things, they go south again.

Nobody said parenting was easy. Yeah...but nobody told me it would be this hard.

Don't get me wrong, I love him. I love him so much it actually physically hurts. Some days this stuff rolls off me like water on a duck's back. Other days I just look at him and my heart clenches. Things are better than they were, but now I see we have so so so far to go.

I really debated sharing too much about this...airing laundry and all. But the truth is, this blog is about me...who I am...what my life is like. And not expressing this part of it isn't really expressing who I am.

My little man loves me. I know this. He tells me how pretty I am every single day. Over and over and over. It's like he contains these wild emotions and he so desperately has to share them. Good ones and bad. So when he is feeling loving, he feels it BIG. So much that it oozes out his pores. He wants to hug me constantly and share everything he has within himself. He will kiss me and compliment me like it is our last chance. It's like he aches inside to make sure that I know he loves me.

Ten minutes later he could be the exact opposite. The contrast is staggering. He is prone to violent outbursts. Just when I think I know what is causing them, the pattern changes. Or there is no pattern. It used to be concentrated on me. That was bad enough. He would infuriate me to the point where I would completely lose it. Screaming, shoving him into his room and shaking with anger and understanding how easy it would be to go too far. Then he would cry and run to me and we would hold each other weeping and confused. Other times, I would feel so broken I would lay on the floor and just let him hit me. How do you defend yourself against that - emotionally or physically?

In those moments, I wonder if he really does hate me. But I know he doesn't. I can sense his frustration all around him. I know it is something he fighting against. I know in those desperate moments when he hugs me so tight and says over and over and over, "I love you mommy", that those are his truest feelings.

Nowadays, his rages are less severe. But there is underlying anger still there and he lashes out at other children. Which to me is worse. The extreme violence has been tempered and now he just hits unprovoked. But it is short lived, generally.


I've come a long way. That giant gift wrapped box of guilt that they handed me the day he was born is just a little bit lighter. I've learned to get thicker skin when I am judged by strangers...or even people that I know. I've learned not to (always) crumple inside when I hear criticism of my parenting. I've learned that it really isn't my fault. And that was a tough one to let go. That one still creeps up on me if I am not careful. It slips through the cracks and I have to beat it back out again. I've learned that NOBODY could do a better job with him than Dan and me because God hand selected us to be his parents. And for some reason, he thought we were the ideal ones to guide him through this challenge in life.

I think I have been able to overcome the depression that I was sinking into. There are days where I have to fight tooth and nail against it. But most days, I grab onto my faith in the Lord with both hands and march forward into the mire.

I believe Stinky is special. I believe there is a purpose for him that is beyond the norm. I believe he will be an extraordinary man and a great joy in my life. He already does bring me joy. Lots of it. It's just that many times, the joy just doesn't outweigh the worry.

I hesitate here, before I publish this, thinking - how could a mom write these things about her son? But it is truth. It's my life. It's who I am. And also, I have spent hours, days even poring over other mom blogs of people experiencing the same things and it has been a source of comfort to me.

I love my son. And not a day has gone by, even at it's worst, that I haven't felt that way until it hurts.

Mom

A suburban mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after. ~Peter De Vries

My Mom

This past weekend my mom celebrated her XX birthday. (Out of respect for my mother and fear of a tanned hide I have removed the actual age.) Mom tries occasionally to hide the fact that she loves her birthday (Oh, let's not do anything this year....I don't want any presents....) but it is a sham. She is just like me, giddy as a school girl about her birthday. She likes her family to be around, she likes the cake (chocolate right?) she loves pretty wrapping paper and she likes the hulabaloo.

So in honor of this wonderful woman's birthday I thought I would share a little bit with you about my mother.

1. She laughs when I say this, but I SWEAR anytime I had a craving for some homemade chocolate chip cookies they seemed to magically appear in the oven when I got home from school.

2. When boy broke my heart, we went shopping and she bought me new clothes. It's true a brand new pair of shoes CAN mend a broken heart...

3. When I was a teenager and had terrible self-esteem she MADE me look in the mirror every day and say "I like myself". Which actually horrified me and I am still a little bitter about, but hey, it worked.

4. She never felt growing up that she had nice clothes so she always made sure I was dressed fashionably. And I was. And so are my kids. From NO doing of my own. And much to the dismay of my father and his bank account.

5. She would sometimes send me encouraging notes in my lunch box to school. (You are very special and I love you. Love, Mom) I wish I had kept them so I could read them again on a crappy day. But instead I just pick up the phone and she knows instantly from the way I say "hi" that something is wrong.

6. She taught me to dream big, to go to college, learn about life, have a career. When it came down to it, the career I chose was the same as hers...being a mom. And I know that she respects me for it.

7. When I was a freshman in college and was talking about getting married (to the WRONG guy), she never freaked out and tried talking me out of it. Even though she desperately wanted to. She asked me questions, talked when I wanted to and waited patiently. I'm not sure how she managed to hold her tongue. But it taught me alot about being a mother.

8. When I talked about marrying the RIGHT guy, she jumped in with both feet and planned my wedding with me with as much enthusiasm as it was her own. She loves Dan like her own, he became instant family. I think she was just happy I grabbed me a GOOD one.

9. When I am sick, she shows up at my house with groceries, medicine, mint chip ice cream, you name it. And I never have to ask.

10. After almost 38 years of marriage she and my dad are still totally in love. I am so appreciative that I have a healthy model for marriage in my life that Dan and I can strive for.

She is my hero. She set the bar for the kind of mother to be. I learned everything I know from her. How to love, discipline, encourage, and the practical things like cooking a nutritious meal and how to braid hair. I talk to hear about everything (well maybe not everything...that might scar us both...). I seek my mom out constantly for advice. What should I do with my kids? How do you make that chicken dish, again? Which shoes should I wear with my dress tonight? Should I choke my husband this time or let him live? She is always on my side, my biggest encourager, ready to pounce like a wild mama cat to protect me, and full of unconditional love.

She is my best friend and I respect, admire and adore her.