Real Mom, Real Life

Post 427

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 02:38:00 +0000

It's time.

I started my "Real Mom" blog because of my sister's never-ending encouragement. Once I started, I became obsessed. I blogged multiple times in a week. My children started asking at every monumental event if it was going to "end up on the blog." The answer was always "yes."

Blogging became my life-blood. Helping me work through hard times and celebrate wonderful moments. I "met" some AMAZING people who I feel a natural kinship with. People who I will always consider as my friends, though I may never have met them. Some I already was acquainted with, but until sharing our blogs with each other, never could claim full friendship. For these people, I often wonder, "how could I have lived so close to you and not realize what an amazing person you are?" I am grateful for the deepening friendships that came through blogging.

I found myself laughing and crying as I posted and, more importantly, as I read my blogging buddies posts. I learned of peoples struggles and heartaches. I felt joy when they triumphed. Blogging was a very personal, healing source for me. My "Real Mom" blog became part of my identity as I included it in my email signature.

And then an interesting thing happened. My blog fulfilled its purpose. Very specifically, very obviously. As the Lord directed lives that had intertwined on my blog, I felt a sense of fulfillment. People who became dear friends were led here just because two women shared their blogs with their husbands. Heaven took care of the rest.

Since then, life has been a roller coster. I have had a bunch of hard days and a bunch of wonderful days. Through it I have tried to keep blogging consistently. Realizing the healing effect it had on me, I felt as though I needed to continue. But blogging became a chore, more of a burden. And even with my love of writing and the healing benefits from blogging, I just couldn't make myself keep it up.

So, I have finally accepted what I should have seen a while ago. It's time.

Time to sign off as "Real Mom, Real Life." Time to close this chapter in my book. I will always cherish what blogging did for me. But now, it is time to say good-bye.

Now, my friends, don't freak out. I am doing great. Actually, I am feeling better than I have in a long time. And, I plan on continuing to write, just in a different way. I have multiple books I am trying to pound out and I have decided to start blogging again, incognito. You might never know who's behind the blogs you read, but I invite you to try and find me.

To all my Real Mom friends, thank you! And see you in Cyberspace!

Some People

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Somehow, the other day, the Gladiator and I were hanging out together watching Animal Planet. (I still don’t know how it happened that it was just the two of us) A show came on called Whale Watchers. It was kind of interesting, in a over dramatic way (seriously, don’t get me started Animal Planet and how they are turning EVERY show into a life or death drama)

Just following a commercial break, a warning came on the screen about the upcoming segment of the show. It might prove to be disturbing to some people so parental discretion was advised. That was about the time I decided to change the channel.

When the Gladiator protested, I told him it didn’t sound like it was going to be a good show; that it might be disturbing. He asked how I knew and I explained what the warning had said.

“It just says ‘some people’ will be, but I won’t be disturbed.” I explained again. And again. And again. This “discussion” went on for a few minutes. Me trying to convince him that it was a good idea; him trying to convince me that he wasn’t the kind of person that would be disturbed.

I finally struck with the winning blow, “Well, it says some people will be disturbed and WE are SOME PEOPLE.” Witty, I know.

Fast forward a couple weeks. I was doing some shopping at the mall with Ms. Princess and the Gladiator. We passed by the puppy store which is always good for a decent “Ahhhh” session. (honestly, I don’t know why I never learn not to go into these places)

It was 13.8 seconds before Ms. Princess and the Gladiator were BEGGING me for another puppy. “PLEEEEEEAAAASSSSE???!!!” they cried. I began to explain that we can not have another dog. (I should never try and argue with my children) We already have two dogs – that is more than enough – so there is no reason to get another.

The Gladiator said, “But Mom, some people have a lot more than three dogs.” To which my clever response was, “Well, we are NOT some people.”

The Gladiator looked confused for a second, then responded, “Yes we are Mom, you even said so when we were watching “Whale Watchers.” You said we were SOME PEOPLE. That means we CAN get the puppy.”

Never try to outwit an eight year old... And no, we didn’t bring the puppy home.

The Gladiator with Sprite and Ms. Princess with Zoey.

Happy Father's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 07:19:00 +0000

I wanted to get a group shot of these kiddos for their awesome dad. Besides it being over 100 degrees and to bright of location, here is why we didn't:

I finally gave up. We'll try again. Another day. Another time.

A Finnish Proverb -- kind of

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 12:00:00 +0000

As a young adult I picked up a job at the local alteration shop. It was a perfect job while I was going to school.

The owner of the shop was Finnish and one of the neatest people I have ever met. She was quiet, except when she got mad. She held her tongue, except when she needed to speak. She was a romantic, except when talking about reality.

Aside from “seamstressing”, she taught me a very important lesson I will never forget. She repeated the phrase daily -- several times. It became such a part of me that I repeat it to my children as if was one of those “mom phrases” that my own mother said.

“Nothing is hard once you know how.”

Because she spoke with a Finnish accent, or because she wanted to stress the point, she placed the emphasis of this statement on the KNOW rather than the HOW. And if you don’t say it the same way, then it just doesn’t mean as much.

I love this because of how obvious and simple of a phrase it is. Yet, how often do we insist we can’t do something for one reason or another? Really, once we know something, it is no longer hard.

It makes me less afraid to try something new because I know it is just a matter of figuring it out, or knowing how.

Now, if I only KNEW how to raise teenagers!!!

Brain Freeze and other deep thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 06:24:00 +0000

Ahhh, the summer. Nothing like a summer in the desert. Well, maybe a pool in the summer in the desert. But that’s another post for another day.

This is the time of year when places like Cold Stone Creamery, Sonic and Bahama Buck’s are full of desperate dehydrated desert dwellers.

Today, I was one of those desperate desert dwellers. Doesn’t matter that my A/C was cranked up in the car. Doesn’t matter that I was driving with my skirt pulled up to my thighs and the A/C vent aimed directly at a downward angle. Doesn’t matter that I was only outside for 27 seconds as I walked to my car from the music store.

I was hot.

So hot, my skin felt like it was crawling with thousands of centipedes with prickly, burning feet. (If you know the heat, you know what I mean.)

I pulled through Bahama Buck’s for a cool drink. (never mind that I actually got TWO because I couldn’t decide which one I wanted)

As I pulled away from my personal oasis in the sun, something hit me. A brain freeze. The most horrible, long-lasting brain freeze I have ever had. No amount of pushing on the roof of my mouth with my thumb lessened it’s intensity.

And so I began to question…

My body temp must have been rather high when I reached for the cold, iciness of my limeade. Perhaps my brain freeze was so bad because I was so hot. Let’s say it was a cool 65 degrees outside, would my brain freeze have been as severe?

This is something I will never know from experience. Because, you see, when it gets to be 65 degrees outside, my whole body is freezing and I reach for a hot cocoa.

So, what I would really like to know is, do you people who live in Wisconsin or Canada or Iceland get brainfreezes?

Family Photos

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 04:49:00 +0000

I had the privilege of photographing such an adorable family the other day. All girls except for the baby. Each of the girls had such a contagious personality. My favorite line of the day was from the oldest daughter. We were shooting her portrait and she had created her own pose. "I have a lot more poses we can do," she explained. She was such a delight! As were each of her siblings. Mom and dad were great -- laid-back and so patient.

Here are some of my favorites...

For more of my work visit www.momentsbykathleen.com

Bidding Farewell

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 01:34:00 +0000

My mom bought her first sewing machine in 1971. A year before I was born. In the day, it was the hottest thing around. The best Viking Husqvarna on the planet (or so my mom would tell me) She loved that machine. And so did I.

At age 6, I sat under my mom’s sewing machine, playing with scraps of fabric while my mom sewed me the most amazing book bag. It was a tan satchel type bag with applique letters spelling my name. She wasn't quite done when school was starting. I talked her into letting me stay until she finished my bag so I could take it with me to school. But, before she was finished, I pressed the pedal down and sewed right through my mom’s finger. She didn’t even get mad at me and finished my bag so I could take it to school – albeit late.

A few years later, when I was 9, my mom made me the most amazing coat I ever had. The first time I saw the fabric I hated it. I was so appalled at the idea of having to wear THAT in a coat – to school!!! But then, the fabric magically blended together into the most beautiful princess coat I have ever known. Warm with fabric and love.

By the time I was 12 my mom was tired of me leaving messes around with my “toilet paper Barbie dresses” and turned her lovely machine over to me. I don’t remember her using it after I commandeered it.

I began with making clothing for my dolls. I loved the praise I received for making something but I hated it when my mom would point out that I had sewed something on backwards. She never made me go fix it though. She would just say, “well, if that’s how you want it to look, then leave it be.” Of course, that was all it took for me to pull out my seam ripper and start again.

By age 15, I was making most of my clothes. Since I had to buy them myself, I was looking for cheap ways to get a wardrobe. I would go shopping with my friends, then head to Hancock Fabrics and by that same night, I had copied what my friends had bought for only a few dollars.

I made most of my formal dresses – some of them turning out quite hideous actually. I found the fabric for my wedding dress for $40 and decided that I was going to make that as well.

As soon as babies came along, I began sewing blankets, jammies and outfits for them. To earn a few extra dollars I began sewing formals and wedding dresses (and everything in between) for others. I made wedding dresses for family members to save them a few dollars.

All of this was done on the same old Viking machine my mom purchased in 1971.

Finally, in 2005, I decided to “upgrade” to the newest Viking Husqvarna – the best in the world I would tell you.

And my mom’s machine was retired.

I kept is oiled and ready to use for emergencies. In its whole life, it has been serviced maybe four times. Its always worked. And its always been there.

Until now.

My little, old Viking, that I inherited from my mom, has bit the proverbial bullet. At 40 years old. To repair it would cost more than it is worth – more than most machines are worth.

I can’t rid myself of this machine. It holds too many memories. It is part of me.

But a machine like this deserves a fond farewell. And I will give it the best storage spot in my house.

My Sweet Children

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 11:10:00 +0000

So it’s 3:00 am. I am having yet another sleepless night. And yet, even though I am so sleepy I am typing with my eyes closed, I can’t actually fall asleep. Funny how that works.

My thoughts are on my children, as they often are on sleepless nights. I have such beautiful, wonderful children. I have been so blessed. Each is presented with his or her own struggles, each with his or her own strengths. And I love them for it.

This young man here just turned 16. He has entered a world of driving and dating and being mostly grown up. I am not sure I like it at all. I still remember bringing him home from the hospital. His chubby little self depending so fiercely on me for his existence. It’s hard to accept that this sweet boy is actually not very dependent on me any more. But, with all that teenager-ism brings, he is still such a tender young man. He conveys an emotion when he plays the piano that can only be called a gift. He is a natural in computer programing and writing. Always protective of his infant siblings, helping them grow. Of course, Ms. Princess has his heart. Those two have such a priceless bond. It’s so wonderful to watch. I miss him as a child, but love watching him grow into a man.

Then there is Staff Srgt. Huzzah; who earned his name for being so encouraging of his family and friends. “You can do it” and “Way to go” seem to be his mantra. He often plays with his younger siblings games invented by his comprehensive imagination. His large stature houses a bigger heart. The Staff Srgt is always making someone smile and feel better about themselves. He has a natural gift of humor. This kid is so FUNNY. Turning 14 next month, he is beginning to find his place in life; beginning to learn about the things that give him confidence and bring him joy. The Staff Srgt is always ready with a hug and a kind word.

Spiderman is smack in the middle of this craziness. Sometimes he gets over-spoken by the older boys but if you get him alone, he can talk your ear off. He is fascinated by weather and maps… ever since he was a pre-schooler, he has been helping us find our way on vacations with his maps. He is turning 12 in just a few days and I find myself wondering when that happened. Seems like just barely he was a chubby little baby; so chubby, the doc said, that he couldn’t even roll over. Spiderman is a friend magnet. Partially because of his obsession of PLAY and mostly because he can make anyone feel like they are his best friend, Spiderman always has an abundance of friends. There is such a gentle tenderness about this boy. I can tell he is meant for great things. I know he absorbs and feels more than I realize. He is quick to access the "feeling" in a room and can just as quickly feel the Spirit.

This little man is my last boy. After I had decided that there were not going to be any more little ones in our home, I felt his spirit urging me to decide otherwise. I can’t describe it other than to say, I knew he wanted to come join his brothers – badly. The Gladiator has always amazed me with his ability to identify his feelings. As soon as he could talk, he was telling me that he felt “so happy” or “really mad.” He feels things on a huge level. And I love him for that. He was born with a green thumb and a love for all life – even the furry kind. Sometimes he stops what he is doing just to give me a hug. With his 9^th birthday approaching next month, I fear those days of spontaneous hugs will become less and less frequent. And this boy’s faith! It leaves me speechless. He is so innocent and honest in heart. It is no wonder that our Savior beckoned us to “become as a little child.”

Finally, Ms. Princess. Turning 5 mid-September, she just barely missed the cut off date for kindergarten. So, we took the test and she passed.. Of course she passed, she is too smart for her own good. She can count to 100, do addition and subtraction, identify the whole alphabet, she is beginning to read and she can comprehend an unsettling amount of information. She got nervous before her test so she said a prayer. I can feel Heavenly Father smiling at her when she prays and I know for certain He hears her! Even though she is “ready” for kindergarten, I am not sure I am. I am going to miss her immensely. She has been my shadow for so long, I am not sure what I am going to do for 7 long, lonely hours without her. She has picked up sewing already – with a real machine. True, some of her “projects” are difficult to identify right now, but she loves it. And I love her loving it because sewing is so much a part of me. I know Heavenly Father loves me, because he sent me her. The sweet little cherry on top of four different flavors of rich ice cream.

I am sure many moms feel this way, but I often wonder why Heavenly Father entrusted me with such wonderful children. I am in awe of them daily. I pray that they will grow into the people they are meant to be, in spite of my misgivings.

My life and heart are full!

He'll Carry You

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 11:31:00 +0000

This song was sung on Sunday in Relief Society. So beautiful! So meaningful!
It's sung by Hillary Weeks. Absolutely love it!

The Frightening Case of the Run-Away Rodent

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 12:00:00 +0000

See this little guy? Well we actually have two of them. TWO!! However, this is not OUR hamster. (the photo can be found here) Mostly because our hamsters bite first then run away faster than my sister to an Old Navy sale (Sorry, LorLor but you know its true).

These two little rodents joined our family on a whim. It took about 20 minutes at home for the children to become disenchanted with the idea of cuddling them close. So these two little guys keep themselves company. When the cage starts to smell like goat cheese, I put it outside on the patio until I can talk Spiderman into cleaning it. (I think he secretly loathes the day he swore to always clean the cage if we only got the hamsters)

Somehow, after the last cleaning (which was much too long ago, thankyouverymuch) one of the little tubes to the cage was left off. Of course, we were oblivious to this until, by some small miracle, Staff Srgt. Huzzah saw them scurrying past the piano. After much effort, only one of these little guys was caught. The other was left to 5700 sq ft of hamster paradise.

Two weeks later, after losing all hope of the hamster’s survival, HHOBL shouted that he found the other one. ALIVE! And running through our room. Now, Ms. Princess and the Gladiator were sound asleep on our bed, but all thought of them was gone as Spiderman, Staff Srgt. Huzzah and HHOBL attempted to chase that creature through our room. This is when I entered the room.

HHOBL was racing around with sweat dripping down his face; Staff Srgt was squealing that he couldn’t catch it and Spiderman? Let’s just say he was living up to his name as he flung himself around the room. And still, with all the bravery these men had, this ROBO hamster eluded them.

After moving the sleeping children to the quietude of their own beds, I joined the chase. I scootched under our bed only to have that infernal thing race between Staff Srgt’s legs on the other side. As I started to back out from under the bed, my breeches snagged on a loose nail in our bedframe, anchoring me quite securely to that spot. Eventually I freed myself only to see that $15 fuzz ball run past HHOBL under the rocking chair. Spiderman flung the chair on its side while I, with a hole in my pants, threw a towel over the hamster.

On the count of three… we were going to lift the towel and scoop of the terrifying creature. One. Two. Three!!!

We missed. But not before EVERYONE of us screamed like a little girl.

This time it raced under my hope chest, then towards the door. Which, even though it was shut, we were sure would be the escape for our furry friend. With the reflexes of a cheetah – ok maybe a hippo – I threw the towel over it again. This time, Spiderman was able to place our “trap” in the exact right spot and before our eyes even focused, our hamster was caught.

He is safely in his cage now with his brother. After a few minutes of territorial battles, (and some pretty clever behavioral conditioning on my part – ifIdosaysomyself), he is content as can be.

But you know what bothered me about this whole thing?

How on earth did that thing survive in my house for two weeks? What did he eat? What did he drink?

The only conclusion I have come to is that I must not really know what’s under the furniture at my house. And, after a hamster survived two weeks on the Unknown, I have decided I don’t want to know.

EVER.

One way to brighten my day

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 12:00:00 +0000

A while back I was sick. Really sick. For a couple weeks. It included an emergency room visit, lots of weird medicine, tons of sleep and even some vomiting. Lovely. (don’t worry, I am all better now)

Well, one of the things I do when I am sick (don’t freak out) is lay on my shower floor with a towel under my head. Something about the warm running water helps me feel just a little bit better.

Near the end of the illness, I had an afternoon of pure nausea, severe pain and complete blah, I crawled into the shower and closed my eyes. Now, knowing Ms. Princess, I had the foresight to put on my swimming suit in case she planned on joining me.

Sure enough, moments after I closed my eyes, in walks Ms. Princess. She was wearing her yellow Rapunzel swimming suit and invited herself into my space. I think I may have grunted something to tell her it was ok.

Soon, she was squeegeeing the glass, singing her princess songs and having the time of her life. I, on the other hand, laid on the floor. Sick, grumpy and otherwise unpleasant to be around or with. (Poor princess had to endure me like that for two weeks.)

At the very moment I thought, “I can't believe what a bad mom I am being.” (self-inflicted “thought-wounds” are easier when ill) Ms. Princess turns to me and says, “Mommy, when I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

And that was all it took to make my day. So grateful this little one was sent to me!

Growing Things

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Last year, we decided we would begin a family garden. Each child was assigned their own "box" and the hope was that each child would take an interest in their garden.

They didn't. Except for one. The Gladiator loved it. Cared for it and was very diligent in tending to it. When we had to pull up it's pathetic remains to install the pool, my Gladiator was so sad. Even though we were discouraged about our first garden, we promised we would try again. And so, with much effort, we did.

Now? Well now, all the children love the garden -- with the exception of (you guessed it) Piano Man. And, instead of a little pathetic pile of dirt with weeds? Take a look for yourself.

We are feasting on zucchini, beet greens and so much more. Tomatoes and corn will be ready any day. Cantaloupe is growing nicely. Onions, turnips, beets, carrots -- its all here. Even though some of the veggies could be a little more robust, we are pretty proud of the outcome.

The Gladiator's prayers are working.

By the way, the most fascinating thing to me about this whole garden experience? Two weeks before the zucchini was ready to harvest, I bought some from the store. Cooked it with a little olive oil, some kosher salt and pepper. The kids hated it. Thought they were going to die because it was in the same room as them. Two weeks later, the Gladiator brings me a zucchini he picked from the family garden. I cooked it with some olive oil, kosher salt and pepper. The kids couldn't get enough. Had to fix up another one just to supply the demand.

Same stuff. Different delivery. {**SIGH**} Kids!

Sunday Lessons

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Mon, 30 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Our church meets at 8:30. That’s 8:30 AM!! Bright and early in the morning with five children isn’t always the easiest task. And sometimes, let’s face it, I am just too tired to get out of bed. My body groans and complains. The pillow is soft, my covers welcoming. It makes it really hard – sometimes – to think about going and sitting for three hours in dressy clothes and uncomfortable shoes.

But, on those mornings I feel that way; when I feel like I just really don’t want to go, I go anyway. Because even though I want sleep, I don’t want to myself to get into the habit of skipping church when I am too tired.

And every time – EVERY TIME – I go anyway, I am always so glad. The lessons and talks on those Sundays are inevitably meant just for me. They strike my heart and cause me to desire to be better than I am.

Yesterday was one such morning. I could have justified easily staying home. A child that felt under the weather, aching bones, etc, etc. But I went.

In Sunday School I realized why. Now, Sunday School usually gets a bad reputation for being boring. But in our ward, we are blessed with two very good teachers. They are completely different from each other but each have a humility and love for the Savior that is passed on to those who listen to them teach. And so, it is not uncommon to feel the spirit in Sunday School.

We talked about the teachings of our Savior, Jesus Christ, in Luke 18 and John 11. I loved the thoughts shared; the insight other’s had. But as we discussed John chapter 11, I noticed things I hadn’t considered before.

It’s the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. It’s a story most Christians know. Yet, between the teacher’s insights and the comments I was began looking at the story slightly differently.

You see, raising Lazarus was a miracle. I would guess that most of those who believe in Jesus Christ, believe that he wrought miracles upon the earth during His time here. And many of us still believe that miracles are possible today; even miracles as great as raising someone from the dead.

Mary and Martha believed in the Divinity of Jesus. They knew Him to be the son of God, their King, their Savior. But when Jesus told Martha in verse 23 that her brother would live again, she didn’t get it. She knew he would live again after the resurrection, just didn’t realize that Jesus meant he could live again THAT DAY. Mary was the same way.

So when Jesus wept, of course he wept for the sorrow of those He loved. But it was also suggested, looking at verse 33, that perhaps he wept because of the lack of understanding. They were so close to understanding all the power, authority and divinity of the Savior, but just didn’t see how it applied to them right now.

I began to think about the atonement. The suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane and the pain on the cross at Golgotha. I believe with my whole heart in the completeness of that sacrifice. I believe that the enabling power of the atonement can help us overcome all things. I know that. And yet, upon pondering about it more, feel like I understand some of it but often fail to see how I can apply it to my life. Right now. Today.

The Atonement is available to all. It excludes no one. It can free us of the burden of sin, hurt, anger, heartache and so much more. By applying the atonement in our lives, we can be empowered to conquer the Enemy. I know these things. They are as true to me as knowing the sun will rise and rain will fall. They are real.

And yet, how do I apply it? How do I take my burdens and lay them at the feet of my Savior? How do I understand the whole picture?

It was an interesting moment for me; to consider the story of Lazarus as a symbol of the power of the Atonement. It was intriguing to consider the spiritual understanding of those who loved him so dearly. And it was enlightening to consider that I can more honestly, more wholly, apply that Sacrifice in my life.

I also think it no coincidence that after teaching Mary and Martha about the power of the Atonement, Lazarus rose from the dead. Just as, after, our Savior completed the atonement, He also rose. Everything He taught was a type, a lesson, to draw people nearer to Him. To help them understand the atonement and the resurrection. To help them return to our Father in Heaven. This story would be no different.

Anyway, it was a wonderful feeling to feel the scriptures working within my heart. I am so grateful for them. And I will continue to try to apply the atonement more fully in my life.

Butterflies

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sat, 28 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Back in 2007 I got this crazy creative spell. Ms. Princess was moving into her "big girl" room and, being my first girl, I wanted her room done right. Now, I am not an artist by any means, but sometimes I like to pretend.

So, I spent a week straight making her room pretty and hand painting butterflies all over her pale pink room. I loved it and she loved it. Here are the pictures I took back then...

Well, we moved in 2009 and her room has been rather plain. Often she would talk about wanting butterflies in her room. But, what she didn't understand is that those little creative streaks are like lightening... they only strike once.

Recently, I decided that her little purple room had been plain long enough. However, I just couldn't get into "the zone." So, I did the next best thing. Amazon.

It took me a couple hours to put up the stickers and assemble a new little desk for her (to keep her artistic mess at bay) Below are the results... and Ms. Princess's reaction.

I think I am OK with vinyl stickers and I think she is too.

So, just exactly how do you feed a baby bird?

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Thu, 26 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

On the back porch of our old home was an empty, hanging flower planter. It sat there for months like that until someone (I’m still not sure who) placed a beat up old nylon plant into it. There wasn’t much to the plant, mostly just the moss. And even though it wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing thing to look at, it quickly became home to a family of birds.

Occasionally I would hoist kids over my head to look at the small white speckled eggs that lay there. And, when they hatched, we pulled up a stool so the kids could peak into the nest all by themselves. It was a wonderful reminder of the beauty of life and nature. Year after year another family of birds would build their nests there. And year after year, we would always watch those little eggs hatch into a little family.

Then one morning, we found a little baby bird on the hard cement, still hanging on. The nest was empty. Knowing the cats in the neighborhood, we scooped up the little bird, made a home for it and set out to nurse it back to health. Google was our best friend as we discovered ways to care for this bird.

However, I could not save this little bird. Try as I might, it would not eat the food I tried to give it. We coaxed as much as we could. I tried and tried to help it understand that the food I was giving it would provide nourishment. I tried gently prying its beak open just enough to place the tiniest amount of food inside. I never wished so hard that I could speak this baby bird’s language. No matter how hard I tried to show this bird that the food would help him, he refused to eat. He refused to be nourished. And soon, he perished.

There are so many days in my life as mom, especially a mom of teenagers, that I feel similar feelings. On so many levels.

We do the best we can as parents to provide a warm safe home for our “little birds” and yet they often insist on trying their own wings a little too early. We can coax and persuade and attempt to teach. But sometimes, children are a little like this bird, they refuse the aid that is right in front of them. They refuse nourishment. And, oh how I wish I could speak their language.

The great challenge as a parent, I am realizing, is trying to help my children see that the counsel their father and I give them, will help them. It will strengthen them.

I have been blessed with such wonderful children. I know that the problems I face with my children are minor compared to some. And yet, I still want the most for them. I still want to “pry their beaks open” just enough to give them a taste of what lies ahead for them. But, unless they want the help, the nourishment, so to speak, like the bird, they will not take it.

So, what is it you do as parents that helps your children want to accept the counsel you might have for them? How do you keep your children “nourished” even when they don’t want it?

How I survive

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Tue, 24 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Every so often, I have someone ask me “How do you do it with five kids?” And my answer is always the same, “I don’t know.”

But, honestly, when I think about it. There are ways that I survive. Tricks I have learned to stay (relatively) sane.

Here is what I do (or don’t do)

* I don’t fold ANYONES underwear. Ever.

* I don’t freak out when I find my teenager frying live crickets in my best frying pan.

* Google Calendar. ‘nuf said.

* Sometimes, I lock myself in my bathroom just to play “Settler’s of Catan” on my phone.

* If someone brings us cookies and there are 8 on the plate, I eat the extra one so the kids don’t fight about who gets it.

* I take deep breaths when it is cool outside.

* I make sure to clarify dinner instructions. For example, instead of saying “Put the pizza in the oven,” I say, “Take the pizza out of the box, put it in the oven and cook it.”

* I set alarms on my phone to “notify” me a few minutes before carpool, dr. appts, concerts. Then I don’t forget. Unless I want to. Then I hit snooze.

* I let my kids sleep in my bed so they go to sleep sooner.

* I allow myself to cry at Disney movies.

* I read.

* I make faces in the elevator and at ATM’s.

* When I am having a really good dream, I make a point of finishing it. Even if it is an hour after I wake up.

* If a stranger says or does something that offends me, I use a really stupid voice in my head to pretend I am that person telling me how dumb they are. For example, like when the nice lady on the airplane congratulated me for my pregnancy. (No. I’m not.)

* I paint my toenails.

* I pretend all the parenting books were written by parents with perfect children and I am actually forging a new frontier in parenting real kids.

* I get and give hugs. Lots of hugs. Daily.

I am confident that if you embrace these habits, you too will survive motherhood.

The Truth Is...

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sun, 22 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Sometimes I loose my temper...

Let's just say, I have never been a big fan of a child locking himself in his room when he is in trouble... Who knew I was so strong? I thought I barely pushed it.

Not my finest hour.

Don't worry. No one was hurt. Just the door. And my pride.

In the morning around our house

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Fri, 20 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Mornings are pretty crazy around our house. Usually I am begging someone to get their shoes on, eat breakfast or put underwear on. Stuff like that.

Well, the other morning was no different. I had hollered my instructions -- undoubtably a little too grumpy and went to get dressed. A few minutes later, I emerged from my room with an order ready to jump from my lips when I saw this...

It wasn't quite what I expected. And it was AWESOME!

(Apparently the kiddos Youtubed a "Just Dance" video. You have to turn it up to hear the music but then you hear me cracking up. My favorite part is Staff Sgt. Huzzah's little head jerks at the end -- synchronized just right with his hips... )

Rain, Rain...

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Wed, 18 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

It's supposed to rain today. I hope it really does. I love the rain.

In many states, rain is common place. When it rains, you might see this...

image found here

But in Arizona, it doesn't rain that much. Therefore, it is probably more common to see this...

image found here

Here's hoping!

Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Tue, 17 May 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I was reminded the other night how we don’t all see things the same way. Sometimes, we actually see things so differently that it takes a second for someone else to understand that particular viewpoint.

We had a girl’s night out the other night… All the guys were at Father’s & Son’s Campout and the rest of us decided to hang out for a night of chick-flicks, nail polish and chocolate.

One of the movies playing was “Ever After” (truly the best Cinderella story ever). Ms. Princess has never seen this one before but was quickly following the story.

As Cinderella and her Prince began to fall in love, they gave each other a very long, passionate kiss.

Ms. Princess asks me, “Mom, are they, like… CHEWING each other.”

“Uhhhm… Yes, my little princess. That is exactly what they are doing.”

And in my spare time...

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sat, 14 May 2011 14:32:00 +0000

I wanted to share a little project I have been working on...

I have been loving my camera lately and all the great moments I have been able to capture with it. So, though my portfolio is small, I have decided to move forward. So, check out my new website:

www.momentsbykathleen.com

You might recognize a few friends (blogging and otherwise) there. Here is just a little preview:

Check out the website for more cute photos!

Princess and the... huh?

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Fri, 13 May 2011 19:32:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I was visiting with a new friend. We were getting to know each other and talking about our families. We share a commonality in that we both have an army of boys followed by the baby of the family – a girl. Knowing how my little princess is the diva-princess-of–the-universe (which, she is actually trying to prove, revolves solely around her), I asked the obvious question, “So, is your daughter the princess of the house?”

Straight faced and in a tone that implied how could I ask such a question, my friend replied, “No. I am.” The twinkle in her eye told me she wasn’t kidding!

I laughed and laughed and have thought frequently on that comment as I drudge forward through daily tasks.

Flash forward to today.

I have heard rumors of children leaving little “tokens of love” for their mothers. And some times, my children will also. You know, like weeds that they think are really flowers, fake insects on my pillow, hand drawn pictures of me and the dog – where we both look remarkably similar. Things like that.

Today? Well my “love token” was a clogged toilet. I am not talking about “plunger-clogged” I am talking about “its-time-to-call-a-professional-clogged.” The kids had all left to school and hubby had just left town.

Yeah.

So, not wanting a stranger to do our dirty business, literally, I made a quick trip to Lowes, purchased an auger (professional strength) and got to business. And you know what was clogging it?

I would love to tell you it was a Polly Pocket or a Bakugon or even a towel. But no. it was clogged with exactly what you would think. And after four complete pass-throughs with the auger, I finally got the pipes clear.

When all was said and done (and wiped up, sanitized, wiped down and sanitized again) I realized something.

I definitely don’t feel like the princess of the house. That, and my children need more fiber!

In which I climb back onto my soapbox

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Tue, 10 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

If you were to ask your neighbor, right now, if s/he has ever dealt with depression, I would bet the answer would be yes. And I would also guess that there are A LOT of mommy bloggers out there who also struggle with depression. Blogging can help in dealing with it, so we kinda all gather online for a Cyber-space support group. And that is OK.

There are different types of depression of course. And without getting all technical, mostly because I don’t know all the big words, I can sum it up like this:

There’s the kind that is temporary and the kind that sticks around, unwanted, for seemingly forever. Clinical, They call it. And “They” are pretty important so I am sure they know about it.

Clinical depression doesn’t go away. It isn’t something a person can “snap-out” of, exercise away, or treat with herbal supplements. It is serious. Some cases are worse than others. Some people require trained Psychiatrists, multiple strong medicines and extreme ECT treatments just to manage. Others can pop a little pill prescribed by their family doctor and no one would ever know the struggles they face. And of course there are a plethora of “in-betweens.”

The common thread is that ALL varieties of clinical depression need treatment.

All of them. Period.

I am not talking about boosting exercise, strengthening faith, Sam-E, St. Johns Wort or fish oil treatments. Those all WILL help, sometimes significantly. But no, I am talking about REAL – get a prescription – treatment.

And, lets just get one more thing straight. Depression is genetic. The things I struggle with will be passed on to my children in some form. The sooner I accept it, the sooner I can help them.

Also, and probably most importantly, depression (or any other mental illness for that matter) IS NOT a sin!!

Depression is a horrible beast that respects no person. It can bear it’s ugly head to men or women. Skinny or round. It can blister the soul of a saint or of a sinner. It can chain the child or the parent. It’s ugly. It’s awful. And it’s real.

I have discussed this topic before and it is no secret, to those who know me, I have battled this disease for many years. A few years ago, a friend of mine, upon finding out that I struggle with depression, said, “I never would have guessed, you seem so happy.”

The thing is, depression actually isn’t all crying and long faces. In fact, for me, it is very little of that. Everyone responds to it differently and the symptoms vary from person to person. The best way to generalize it is a feeling that something “just isn’t right.”

It can manifest in some of the following ways: fatigue, a distracted mind, forgetfulness, frustration, anger, all-consuming activities, excessive behaviors such as shopping or over-eating, hopelessness. And so many more.

And, with depression, a person could be feeling ALL OF THE ABOVE and still put a mask on for other people. I know for me there were times when people would ask how I was and, on the outside I would say with a smile, “Great.” But on the inside I would think, “you really have no idea how much I want to curl up in a corner right now.” I would guess that 95% of the people who I interacted with really had no idea of my personal turmoil until I told them.

That is how my depression worked.

Now, just because I have it doesn’t mean, in any way, shape or form, that I am going to succumb to it. I go through periods, like the last couple years, where I struggle more with it. But there is no way I am going to give in to this beast. And if that means I have to take a little pill in the mornings so my family can have a descent mother, then so be it. It is a small price to pay. Thank goodness the Good Lord has seen fit to inspire men and women in the field of medicine to make this battle a little easier.

And, to answer the question, "why do you keep talking about this?" I would answer, "Because somebody needs to."

So there it is. Another speech from my soapbox.

Happy Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sun, 08 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Because not all "Mothers" actually bear children.
Because the tenderness of a woman is an innate ability to heal the broken heart.
Because I have seen many women reach out to care for another.
Because I was raise by a passionate, encouraging mother.
Because I thrill inside to see a woman kneel by her crying child and offer comfort.
Because the worry wrinkles on a woman's face are usually earned through the concern for someone else.
Because a woman will always try to make something beautiful.
Because We are all daughters of a Heavenly Father -- who loves us individually and tenderly.
Because.

Wishing ALL women everywhere a glorious Mother's Day.

So grateful to this woman who had to be strong enough to raise me.

Hidden talents

noreply@blogger.com (Kathy @ Real Mom, Real Life) — Sat, 07 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Her name is Katara. And she is beautiful. At least that is what my four year old tells me. You see, her older brothers have gotten her hooked on the tween cartoon series, Avatar. My little princess, who can find beauty in everything (including Sally from “Nightmare Before Christmas”) has become enamored with this tough “water-bender.”

So today, as I drove away from the All American Kitchen, Micky D’s, it was no surprise to hear Ms. Princess and her BFF discussing water bending. Ms. Princess was sharing all the tricks and tips every water-bender should know with her little friend.

Ms. Princess: So, do you want to do that when we get home?

BFF: But I don’t know how to do water-bending.

Ms. Princess: Oh, that’s ok. I can teach you.

BFF: Do I have water-bending powers?

Ms. Princess: Well, I don’t know. We can see. I have water-bending powers.

BFF: I think I have Penguin Powers

And all this time, I thought they were normal four year olds. Who would have thought?