Absolute Mommy

It's Getting Hot in here {and my kids are crazy}

2013-05-18T12:41:00.000-07:00

This is a sponsored post, but the opinions are all my own.
It's not even June and yet, Fresno has blessed us with some 100 degree days. And while I'm sure there are some mid west and east coast friends that are shaking their head as I already begin to complain, let me tell you a little about Fresno summers. This is only the beginning. Soon, the temps will reach well over 100, and leaving the house to do anything will become my least favorite chore. Trying to wrangle 2 kids under 5 in 100 degree temps? Well lets just say I have friends with more than 2 that are my own personal heroes.
So what can we do in 100 degree plus temps. Well we can swim, which we do a lot at my momma's and my father in laws. We can pay out the nose for play centers and indoor trampoline centers. Or we can roll the dice and take a chance at the play center in the mall, or McDonalds where the plague is ready to take down your entire house hold. Seriously just thinking about it makes me sick!
Or, we can just stay home. And by doing that, we worry about the hours in front of the TV, the iPad, or the computer. The heat makes both my littles crazy. Especially if they can't go play outside, which is like their most favorite thing in the world. Then they drive me crazy, because honestly, I hate sitting in 100 plus degree weather unless there is a pool nearby. The first summer Caitlin was old enough to be bored with her toys, I got yarn, penne pasta, and markers to make necklaces. It was a really poor attempt at crafting. This was way before I started a blog, and before the birth of Pinterest, so I was a lost soul with my cranky and bored 2 year old. I'm embarrassed to even share that! But it's the truth. Now as I have an almost 6 year old and a 3 year old, what else can we do, besides eat ice cream for every meal while watching Finding Nemo for the gazillionth time? Enter Babaa Box. A monthly subscription of activities for your little ones to survive the summer. Delivered to your door, or digitally so you can print out activities and DIY ideas. If you choose to have it delivered to your door, you will get books, puzzles, science projects, and games. The possibilities are endless.

Fishing game for Summer fun

So what makes Babba Box different? Two things make BabbaBox different from all these other kids products and subscription services.
1) Solutions built to fit your life… The BabbaBox is designed by parents who understand that different situations call for different solutions. While sitting down and spending an hour doing a project with your kids is fun, the reality is sometimes you are juggling dinner and need something they can do relatively independently.
Each BabbaBox includes solutions specifically designed for four different occasions that are part of all parents’ routines: TV Free Mornings, Sanity Saving Weeknight Activities, Purposeful Weekend Plan, and Story time.
2) Have fun while building critical thinking skills… The BabbaBox is about so much more than just arts & crafts. Each month includes a different combination of hands on projects, books, games, sensory activities, kid-friendly science, imaginative play and more. And everything included is designed by BabbaCo’s early childhood experts to develop important critical thinking skills – of course while having a ton of fun in the process. There are also 3 super fun themes to help you survive the summer. And they will be equally fun for both boys and girls. Participating in a Babba Box subscription just may make you the cool mom on the block. I can totally see the entire neighborhood wanting to join in the fun. Which is fine as long as they bring their own snacks... Check out the 3 themes that will help you survive whatever early summer mornings or late summer nights throw at you! June: Deep Sea Take a voyage to the bottom of the sea, enjoy a colorful book about some of our favorite creatures, make and plan an adorable fishing game, plus so many oceany activities.
July: Camouflage Animals Where’d who go? Not only is camouflage on animals totally cool, but it also services a purpose – to help protect them. This month we will learn about all the amazing kinds of camouflage, play a little hide and seek ourselves and other well disguised fun!
August: Pirate Treasure Bring your sea legs! This will be arguably our most fun theme yet, as we set out on an adventure, pirate-style. We will sing songs, meet famous pirates through an amazing book and become experts in life on the high seas! Check out Babba Box and if you like what you see, use “SURVIVE” at checkout to save 10% on any Summer Survival Pack. In this house there are only 14 days left of school, and the temps keep climbing. No more novice penne pasta crafting in this house. This year we are going to survive summer with Babba Box! This post is part of the Surviving Summer Break with Babba Box campaign. This is a sponsored post, but all my opinions are my own. Content on the Babba Box subscription and campaign provided by Linqia.

Ready to Rock...

2013-05-16T19:28:00.001-07:00

The hiatus was shorter than expected. That's because I have so much to tell you and so much to share. So for today, I'll be brief.

Pictures courtesy of Lora
I'm right behind Summer in the stripes, with the peace sign.

It's taken me almost a week to wrap my head around Elevate. I'm sure you noticed from my Instagram feed that I was knee deep in blogger heaven last Saturday. It took me the entire week to savor and reflect on the people, the speakers, and the message. To write one post entirely dedicated to the Elevate Conference would not do it justice, so I'll be writing three over the next week. I promise to make them fun and exciting, and not at all like your boring neighbors vacation pictures. I also have products to review, shout outs to give, a Mother's Day post to share... All exciting stuff right? So I'm ready to rock. Even if I haven't done a stitch of laundry, a bit of cleaning, or even tried to do Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred again. Because guys, Jillian almost killed me! So, I'm diving back into the the things I love most. Writing and this blog. And more importantly you, because if I learned anything last Saturday, it's that blogging is powerful. And while my blog might not save any lives, it does introduce me to people that do. It allows me to make lasting friendships over social media, and it gives me the blessing of having a voice. Stay tuned for stories that will make you laugh, and maybe even cry. Because I'm back, and whether my family likes it or not, I'm ready to rock.

Mother's Day {Friday Funnies}

2013-05-10T02:30:00.000-07:00

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It's almost Mother's Day, and I'm not here to pat myself on the back. I'm here to share some of the funny things I've discovered about motherhood. Motherhood is a crap shoot. Some days it's all rosy and sweet smelling, and sometimes it stinks. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. We've all been there. So in honor of a holiday for moms that's not really a holiday for moms, here is something to make you laugh about the hardest job you ever had. The only job that makes you pull out your hair. The only job that makes you want to run away, yet when you are alone for 5 minutes you immediately miss your children.

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I wrote a post in the very beginning titled Take this job and shove it. I pose the question, that if you saw the job description for motherhood on Craig's list, would you even apply? Because come on, it's a really tough gig and it pays in love. Which is great, but love rarely buys you the box of wine that is sometimes required to get through the day. Also I'd like to have this printed on a shirt, because I do get the question, "so what do you do?". And some days I really want to say, bitch I do EVERYTHING!

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You don't realize that when you pack you bag for the hospital, you are also packing your bags for a guilt trip. From the moment you push that child from your loins you are on the guilt cruise of your life. Sure there are cocktails and sometimes chocolate, but it's a never ending trip of guilt. You want to take a shower? The baby might need to nurse, guilt trip. You want to take a few hours away with your girlfriends for drinks? What if the baby needs you? Guilt trip. You have to return to work, only to miss some milestones of your beautiful infant babe? Guilt trip. It really is the vacation that never ends. Even when you think you are beyond soul crushing guilt, your child will come home and say, "but so and so's mom was there". And that's when you check another bag for your guilt trip.

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I feel like this is misleading as it should say a mother's mind. This is what it's like to be a mother. There are not enough hours in the day to complete all the tasks at hand. Sure it starts out really simple, round the clock feedings, diaper changes, and naps. But then people expect you to get all productive and stuff. What's up with that? Like they expect you to do things like get dressed and wash your hair. Also they expect you to wear things other than yoga pants. It only gets better from there. Then you are expected to take your kid to preschool at an ungodly hour, and look like a real person. Because there will be other moms there with two times the kids you have, who have on make-up and freshly ironed capri pants (seriously, true story). There are a never ending amount of tabs to be opened on any given day. It's truly what motherhood is all about.

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Moms, this is what it's like when you have a toddler. I'm sure you are laughing but I'm dead serious. Your darling baby goes from sweet and cuddly, to mildly (or strongly) annoying over night. And since they are proud of the new found independence they have, they want to do everything their self. And by everything, I mean everything that you could do infinity times faster. Putting on the shoes of a toddler that wants to do it their self takes a millennial. And when you try to help, they scream at you. Of course they do, because their way is better, right? So this mother's day, keep this little picture in your heart as you watch your toddler feed themselves with a fork, when you know a spoon would be more appropriate, and enjoy watching them dirty their fourth shirt of the day.

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Every day, I decide that I'm not going to clean my house, because my kids are home and they will just destroy it anyway. This is not the science that works for my husband but it works for me. I spent a year stressing over the mess, only to conclude that the only appropriate time to clean is at night when the kids are sleeping. And even then I have major reservations about it since, they will be up and have destroyed the house again in less than 12 hours. As you can tell, I set my standards pretty high. Next time someone comes over and it looks like you are operating a day care center out of your house, just tell them that you like to clean at night when the kids are asleep as not to interfere with their imagination. You can't bring yourself to interfere with the childhood memories that they are making. Who would challenge such an excellent mother? Your welcome.

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Never has an ecard described motherhood better. This is what the first 3 years of motherhood looked like for me. And you know what? There is nothing wrong with that. Motherhood is insane. It's the only thing women gladly sign up for. It's embraced fully. It's competitive. And it's the only job that no matter how shitty the day, no matter how terrible the tantrums (mine and the kids), we moms still work every day to better ourselves. We strive to be better mothers with puke on our shirts, and poop on our hands. We plot and plan our next moves. We pin a thousand pins for one birthday party, for one teacher appreciation gift, for one Elf on the Shelf Christmas. We throw our selves into the fire. We forgo the last piece of anything. We even eat our meals standing up if thats what it takes.
So what's the big deal if we have it all and give our all while staying into our pajamas all day.
Why would we bother getting out of our pajamas? That would just make more laundry for us to do.
Have a happy Mother's Day, and if someone offers their help, TAKE IT. If someone offers do the cooking accept. And if some one offers you a drink, tell them to make it a double.

Hiatus

2013-05-06T02:30:00.000-07:00

This post started as a Coffee Date to link up. Then I thought I might turn it into a Hello Monday. Then I decided to just post it as it. My life has been full. To the brim with work, home, activities, and lots and lots of room mother responsibilities that I wasn't quite prepared for. Throw in Mother's day next Sunday, with Elevate the day before, and I'm spent. Like emotionally, physically, and literally spent.
So, I'm going to go on hiatus. Because being tasked with writing something these days seems overwhelming. Trying to schedule posts has seemed daunting. Even trying to come up with new content has thrown me for a loop. I've taken to writing in a notebook or on scraps of paper, and even then I've got nothing. I think it's because my mind is so busy. So full with the things on the "to do" list. I can't relax enough to let out my anxiety, my stress, my worries.
I hate to say I'm busy, because I despise the word. Am I really more busy than you? Am I busier than my neighbor, who has 3 kids, and a full time job? Am I busier than my other neighbor who stays home and runs a family daycare? Probably not, so I will say that my life is full. And the fullness is driving me a little mad. As in I'm losing my mind, and little pieces of me are breaking away. So I need to pull back. Just a little.
I've been putting off taking a brief hiatus. I keep thinking "this will be the week", and then things like birthdays and anniversaries pop up. Next week is Mother's Day, and I'm working on a Mother's day post, but that may be all I can crank out next week. With life being full, I'm sacrificing sleep to blog, and that's not doing me or my writing any favors.
Next week is Teacher Appreciation Week, next Saturday is Elevate, and Sunday Mother's Day. Slowly but surely I'm getting ready for the week ahead, but I'm also super stressed about it. That tells me that I need to pull back, breathe and relax. This morning I was almost paralysed with the enormity of the commitments I have made. The tasks still left to do. It's taken me all day just to get here to post this little ditty that I originally wrote last Wednesday night. As I edit I think, I haven't visited a single social media all day. That is very unlike me. But today, I'm focused on the task of rearranging, organizing, and planning for the week ahead. The blogger in me is still stressed that I have no idea what I'm wearing on Saturday. Yes, I'm obsessing about a blogging conference as if it were a prom, but it is kind of a prom for bloggers right?
Stressful Megan equals bitchy Megan, which equals a big sad face for the family. I don't want to be Mad Mommy. I want to be happy and in the moment mommy. The only way to do that is to know my limits, admit that I can't do it all (and do I really want to), and say "no", more than I say yes. That is so damn hard for me. It's times like these that my type A personality comes back like a bad habit I had forgotten.
So I'm going to take a hiatus. Perhaps until after Elevate. To really enjoy it. Let it all sink in and then write a really great post about it. Some of my dearest bloggy friends are going to be there. I can't wait to hug them in real life. Those people who I've gotten to know on Instagram. The ones who I helped welcome their babies, celebrate new jobs or shop openings, enjoy pictures of their family adventures. That will really be something for my over extended heart.
So look for a few posts next week. A recap perhaps. A Mother's Day tribute. And then I'll be posting after Elevate. I won't be gone long. Just long enough to breathe again. To relax again. To come back and put all I've got into it again.
Because I love this space. I love you guys who read and comment, and share this life with me. So thank you, very much. I won't be gone long, just long enough to get right with it all.

It's OK {confessions}

2013-05-01T22:41:00.002-07:00

It's OK that this post has been in my drafts for almost 2 weeks.
It's OK that instead of setting it up to publish earlier I watched the Mindy Project and Call the Midwife while Mac napped and the Hubbs was outside with Caitlin. It's OK because I could actually hear the dialogue.
It's OK that I served dinner outside on one large serving tray. PB & J, goldfish, animal cookies and cuties. This is what working has reduced me too... Who am I kidding. This is nothing out of the ordinary.

It's OK that I was way too tired to write a post last night, so I skipped it. It was also my anniversary, so I spent some quality time with the Hubbs.
It's OK that it wasn't that kind of quality time. It was the watching the movie 50/50 kind of quality time.
It's OK that I'm exhausted beyond belief, but sadly when I get into my bed, I worry about what the next day will bring. What I have to add to my to do list. What I know isn't going to get done.
It's OK, that I'm secretly enjoying work right now, because I get to listen to books on my iPod. Like A Discovery, The HOST, and Life after Life.
It's OK that I'm really missing my kids, even though I complain about the crazy when I'm home.
It's OK that we started a Saturday with donuts and a trip to Target. Because I didn't want to wait and serve breakfast at home. It's OK that I bribed them with the donuts so they would put on their shoes and hurry up.

It's OK that the same Saturday ended with a fudgescicle. At 9 o'clock at night. It's OK because I still had to go to the grocery store for eggs, fruit snacks, and fruit.

It's OK that I broke the cardinal rule of blogging. I got dressed up, makeup and all and didn't take one single what I wore picture. What's up with that. It's OK, because I got a picture of my best friend and I at her baby shower.

It's OK that I had to cut work a few Fridays ago to take Mac to the doctor. It's OK that I totally lied about what happens at "the lab". It's OK that I popped a peanut butter chocolate egg in her mouth right after her blood was drawn. It's OK that I paid close to 8 bucks for a grilled cheese meal, chips, a banana, and a bottle of water. It's OK because I was happy to do it.

It's OK that some weeks fly by faster than others. It's OK when 7 out of 7 dinners are fast food or cereal. It's OK when breakfast is on the run. It's OK that I'm kind of recycling this post.
Because if it can't be perfect, then it has to be OK.

Linking up with Neely for it's OK

Dear Mr. Crutchfield {Happy Anniversary}

2013-04-30T02:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Crutchfield, I regret to inform you that this is a post about you. In the past I know that you have taken issue with posts of this nature. My sincerest apologies, however today is our wedding anniversary. It should be noted, on record, that I thought our Anniversary was Wednesday. Make no mistake, I do know the actual date of our anniversary, I just counted days wrong. Much like the the budgets and spending limits you give me, I'm horrible at numbers. I digress, this is a post dedicated to you, and all of the things I love and well sometimes hate about you. I knew who you were when I married you, and you knew me. Granted there are few surprises, the biggest being that you finally said yes. Happy 8th, which I'm sure to you feels like 80. It feels like 80 to me too, but I don't mind a bit. Enjoy your post and your time in the spotlight. Sincerely, Your wife

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It's so true that from the moment we met there was this strange attraction. While we may have said we hated each other in the beginning, it's more like we couldn't stand to be apart from the other. We have never recovered, because there is no single remedy for crazy, stupid, reckless, love.

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This is the text book definition of our marriage. However it's totally true. Back before we got "together" that one last time, my mom asked me if I could really live with out you. I told her it wasn't possible. So she told me to cut the shit and just accept you for who you are. She's a smart lady. But you also had to accept me for me. There are times, days, even months when I think, I just might have to cut you, but then I'd be sad. I don't want to do this life without you. And let's face it, you with out me? It just wouldn't work.

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I am crazy. I admit that. I also jump to conclusions. I know that I'm not the easiest person to live with. Just remember you are at times not cake walk either. We do however compliment each other in the crazy. It just sucks when we go crazy together. But when we are crazy stupid and watching Beerfest together, or videos on YouTube, it's a little piece of heaven

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Sometimes when we are having one of our "moments", I really wish this was on a tshirt. In my size. Not yours. I still can't look at this ecard without laughing. It reminds me of you so much! There have been rare, very rare moments when you have been right. But who's counting?

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We made a third person and a fourth. I always knew you would be a great dad. You probably don't remember but one night when we were semi-dating, we went to John's New England with some of your pledges on Wednesday night for beers and karaoke. There was a family there with a little guy, probably about five. He was trying to play some video game while standing on a chair, and you went over and helped him out. Next thing I knew, you two were hi-fiving, and I was in love. In a really stupid way, because I knew right then that I wanted to have your babies. So a few years later I did.

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You are sometimes. But so am I. So in a way we balance each other out. It doesn't really matter because I love you anyway. Plus some of my favorite stories start with you being an a-hole to someone else. You have this way of being an a-hole and being hilarious at the same time. It's like a gift. Which keeps on giving whether we like it or not.

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Since these are the only cards you are going to get today, Happy Anniversary. Eight years married. Together since, well it's debatable. But it's been almost 13 years since we met, and we all know it was down hill from there. When I really think about it I think that we are incredibly lucky that we have the love that we have. We scream, we yell, we laugh, we love. There are always more good days than bad. Arguments can be halted by a joke. But we have always put in the work. From the very beginning. It has never been easy. If it was, we wouldn't have any fun. I love you for a million reasons, but the main reason is because you are you. And I love you. I love your laugh, your jokes, your occasional OCD-ness. It would seem that after eight years things would be boring and mundane. But as always with you, it's just as entertaining as it was the first time we met.
Which just to clarify, you were the one being a dick.

Store Bought Cakes {Mac turns three}

2013-04-28T23:05:00.002-07:00

Store bought cakes do not a bad mother make. Let's say it again. Store bought cakes do not a bad mother make. It's the truth. Or so I keep telling myself. This was the first year that I let birthdays go. I asked for help. I bought more things than I made. I actually stressed that I wasn't going to make Mac's birthday special enough, or memorable enough. Then I realized it didn't matter. Mac had a blast turning three. She only wanted two things: a stroller for her baby doll, and a chocolate cake. Well precious girl, done and done.

Friday we kicked off our celebration with our neighbors in the front yard. A double chocolate cake from Costco and vanilla ice cream. Mac played with her friends, played in the dirt, and went to bed, dirty feet in all at 10:30. She didn't notice that the napkins and the plates didn't match. She didn't notice that the cake came in a plastic container. She was too busy eating cake.

This is Miss Mac party bound. Her shirt was bought at a craft fair, and her tutu is from Gymboree. Her flippies are from Target. I know right. Oh and her moves are all her own. She's pretty much owning three.

Scenes from Mac's party. Peppa Pig printables by this girl on Etsy. Let me tell you she is amazing, and has Peppa Pig invitations! She included cupcake wrappers and punch out circles with this kit. Mommy knew that cupcakes and picks were way outta her time limit, so I didn't use them, but they were part of the party package. Also she can customize the printable packs for you, and they don't break the bank. Check her out! Also the Peppa figurine is from Amazon.

Mac really, really, really, wanted a Peppa Pig birthday. We watch Peppa Pig on loop since I had the brilliant idea to DVR about 13 episodes. We are a Peppa Pig family, since it's not unusual to find us using British accents!

This beautiful chocolate, chocolate cake is from Costco. I added my own Peppa Pig as previously stated. Here's the thing, I debated whether or not to make a cake like I did last year. Or to make cupcakes, or to ask someone to make cupcakes. Then I thought, why, when I can just buy one and add to it, or not. Why put so much pressure on myself. So I decided to screw homemade, and order this damn cake. That everyone loved by the way. No harm no foul, and we are on our way to ordering one for Caitlin's birthday in June!

We also held Mac's party at The Jungle Party House in our local Mall (we have two in this area and this is the smaller one). It has an art area, a jungle gym, a bounce house, karaoke and dress up for the kids, and a pool table, air hockey table, an Wii, for the adults. It was the best decision I have made when it comes to birthday parties. I was cool (considering yesterday hit 90 degrees), it was clean, and I came home to a house that was still clean with no clean up. I mean really, is there anything better?

Mac working on some serious birthday party art.

The hubbs took this picture right after we sang Happy Birthday.

She doesn't really like that, and she refused to blow out her candles!

However she didn't refuse any cake or ice cream.

I tried to get a smile out of her, this was the closest I got!

This my friends is the after party.

Because turning three is really hard.

I'm exhausted too, can you tell?

So once again in the spirit of some of my favorite bloggers (Chelsea, Summer), forgoing the usual Perfectly Pinterest birthday isn't a mommy fail, it's actually a mommy win. I was less stressed. I enjoyed myself so much more. I had a great time, and didn't have to stay up the night before decorating ladybug cupcakes, and a ladybug cake (true story). I didn't spend three weeks making a tank top dress, or hair bows, or pom poms, I didn't wake up at 5 in the morning to ensure that the pasta salad and sandwiches would be ready in time for the party. I bought a store bought cake, some printables, and ordered sandwich trays. I feel I out Pinterested any party.

Because a store bought cake does not a bad mother make.

Or so I keep telling myself.

Dear Mac {You're Three}

2013-04-26T02:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Mac, Today you are three. And it's really hard for Mommy to wrap her head around that. You are my baby. The one that saved me. I'm so glad I was blessed with you.
I adore your bad attitude. Even if your whining drives me crazy. Even if I can't stand your demanding little voice, yelling at me in the back seat for "more of my song". I still secretly love it. Because it reminds me of myself. My apologies in advance.
I love your sense of humor. I love that you laugh at all the right parts in Ratatouille. I love that you laugh and ask for America's Funniest Home Videos. You know when someone is being silly. You know when something is going to be funny before it's funny. Keep that. Hold on to that. It will come in handy later in life.
I love that you know the words to Call me Maybe, and Stay. I love that I can hear your little voice singing in the back seat. It makes me smile and my heart swell. I love that you get mad when we catch you singing. Because you are just a tad bit embarrassed.
I love that you call root beer, fruit beer. Daddy and I have now taken to calling it fruit beer as well. Don't get mad when we tell your first boyfriend to take you out for fruit beer. Because we are totally doing that.
Here are a few of the things that you have said lately that have made me laugh out loud.
Can you go to work to buy more money so you can buy me more toys? - in the Costco parking lot
Where's my chocolate? I need it because I was crying. - after a tantrum provoked by no one
Mommy, Mommy, MOMMEEEE, Wall-E left his bug friend! He left his BUG FRIEND!! - during the movie, little does she know that the bug friend is a cockroach!
I love that you love Pirate's Booty and Cheetos. BBQ chips and cheese and crackers. I love that you are an Oreo bandit and we've had to move them to a higher shelf. I love that you ask for pop tarts and cookies with the stripes. I love that you are a junk food junkie. Which is kind of bad, because mommy should make you eat more vegetables.
I love that you still want to snuggle with me, and still grab my ear when you are tired. I love that you climb into my bed and I find you there in the morning, taking up all the space.
I love that you know who Mindy Kaling is because "mommy watches that show". I love that when you saw her book in Target you said "mommy there is your friend". I love that you ask for Big Bang Theory by name and tell me Sheldon is your favorite. I love that you are a pop culture junkie just like me. I love sharing that with you even if it shows my shortcomings as a mom...
Mac, you are a gift. Each year has been a gift. You took everything I thought I knew about motherhood and threw it out the window. You have made me a better mom, a better person. You are so smart already, almost too smart. You are already a better negotiator than your sister. You already know when we are trying to pull a fast one. You already know when we are telling white lies.
But my favorite things are the sound of your laugh. Hearing your voice. Your arms around my neck. Those are the things that remind me that this motherhood gig is worth every minute. Every heartache. Every obstacle. You my child bring great joy, not just to my life, buy to the lives around you. Even your sisters, even when she acts like you are a major cramp in her style.
Happy 3rd birthday precious. My pretty, pretty precious.
Mommy loves you.

To celebrate visit Mac's birth story

The quest to be mom

2013-04-24T23:05:00.000-07:00

I spend the majority of time in this place writing about my trials in motherhood. I complain about whinny crying babies. I complain about sleepless nights, early mornings, potty training, and poop. I complain about not enough me time, not enough us time, not enough time period. I spend lots of time complaining about being a mom.
It never occurred to me that I'm blessed to have a complaint.
Before I became a mother, I didn't know that for some women, motherhood is a quest. I was of the school of thought that you got pregnant, you had a baby, you became mom, end of story. I didn't know anything about loss and infertility. It took 9 months to conceive Caitlin, and I was getting worried. I was told by my doctor that I had old eggs (at 28 no less). I was told by my mother in law that time was wasting. I was told by my mother that she wasn't getting any younger. I was told a lot of things, but none of those were that conceiving was impossible. Because that just didn't occur to me.
But today it does. Today I know someone who is in the throws of infertility. She is quite possibly on the last leg of her journey. She's had heartbreak and disappointment. She's had a struggle with her faith. She's had to come to grips with the "impossible". She's had to endure things that I know nothing about.
I have no words that will comfort her. That is so hard for me. What can I say? I know that she reads my blog, and I wonder, does she want to choke me? Tell me how lucky I am that I have mouths to feed, or butts to wipe? Does she have to turn away some days because I'm so "overwhelmed" with being a mother? What can I say to comfort her? I know nothing of her struggle. Quite frankly I can't even imagine.
Today I want to say to her that mothers are made from many cloths. Sometimes they are made in unconventional ways. There is no single journey to motherhood. The roads are different for every one. Some of us take one fork, some of us take another. No matter the way, we all end up at the same place. Motherhood.
Today I want to offer her an extra prayer. I want to offer her my hand to hold. I want to offer her words of inspiration. I want her to know that in her quest for motherhood she is not alone. She is not the last. She is not at the finish line. Because mothers never give up. They will never take no for an answer. They always trudge on, through the trenches. There is no finish line, when you are a mom.
I want her to know, that in her quest to be a mom, she already is one.

Amanda has been writing in honor of NIAW, be sure to check out her posts.
Also linking up here.

When motherhood gives you the finger

2013-04-23T21:24:00.004-07:00

In my mind there are days when motherhood resembles the main character in Juno. Sarcastic, witty, and just on the edge of being a bitch. It's like no matter what you do, motherhood/Juno has a comment or comeback for you. No matter how hard you try, she dryly comments on how you could have done that better, or faster, or with more enthusiasm. I imagine her in my mind wearing a shirt that says "Ask me if I care", because on most days motherhood doesn't give a damn. So go ahead and plan that picnic, that play date, that trip to Target. Somewhere along the way motherhood is going to trip you up.
I've let motherhood get the best of me for a long time. Even now there are days when I'm so defeated. My Facebook status reads: It's one of those days. Those days. Where your kids are fighting over the same cookie, and even though you have a dozen, they both want that one. Those days, when you wake up with a to do list that would rival Martha Stewart's, only to find that your child is running a fever. Again. Those days, where there is not enough coffee, wine, or Housewives marathons to take you away.
Last week I was having one of those weeks. A week full of late nights and early mornings. A week of underlying mommy guilt for forgetting to lay out the days outfit, or sending an envelope in a folder. A week of not wanting to cook a single thing for dinner. I was letting it get to me. Worrying about blogging and emails, and getting the kids to bed at the right time. I was worried about how I was going to fit all the to dos into my life. Then I realized, there is not enough me, enough hours, and enough is enough.
So I gave motherhood the finger back.
I let the laundry go another day. Caitlin's hair didn't get washed for two consecutive days. I skipped a shower and went to Target in a hat and the previous days makeup. Let's be honest here, isn't this the life? Who made up these ridiculous rules about motherhood? No my mother certainly. When I was a kid, fast food dinners were the norm. My mama worked. She was good at her job, and in my eyes the best mom. Ever. So if she didn't put these ridiculous expectations on me, then who did?
Could it be that we, the women of the "have it all" generation have set ourselves up for heartache? I mean I was told that I could in fact have it all. The career, motherhood, the happy family behind the picket fence. At no time did anyone explain that behind that picket fence the kids would be fighting, the dishes would be stacked, and I'd be crying about all that and more. I feel like there should be a class offered at major universities called "failed dreams and disenchantment". Because so many of us set such a high standard for ourselves. I mean, we did go out and get our educations. We worked hard for those degrees. We fought our way up corporate ladders, to what? Get pregnant, and decline into a life of casual yoga pants and dressy yoga pants? I know this isn't the life that every mom leads, but there are a chosen few of us who procreated and then realized we weren't cut out for this shit at all. And it scared us and disappointed us and now we are the disenchanted. We laugh at those pregnant moms in Target full of hopes and dreams as they register for bottle warmers and boppies. Because we hope that they are the spared ones. The ones who are blissful, and glowing, even when they are covered in baby vomit from their statement necklace to their wedge sandals.
I'd like us to all take a pledge to give motherhood the finger. On those days. When you could get dressed up and made up but choose yoga pants instead. On the days when cookies for dinner sounds perfect. On those days when your house looks like you run a day care, but nope it's just you and your kid. Those days. Just for a minute, pour another cup of coffee, another glass of wine, perhaps crack open a beer, and have a seat. Put up your feet, yell at the kids from the couch, and take a minute to say,
F you motherhood. I'm just fine, in fact I'm perfect.

Hello Monday {sarcastically}

2013-04-22T19:12:00.001-07:00

Hello 5:15 am. Which should have really been 5 am but I hit the snooze. Do you realize how hard it is for me to get up, 5:15? Even the sun is still asleep.
Hello overgrown eyebrows and puffy bags. Yeah I see you. I'm ignoring you, so why can't you ignore me. I know I know, I should have gone to bed, and not stayed up on Pinterest and watching MadMen. But I can't say no to Don Draper. Who can?
Hello new maxi skirt that I didn't get a chance to take a picture of. Now the world of Instagram has no idea just how wonderful you are.
Hello keys. Where the hell are you? Like seriously. Where are you? Because now it's 6:55, and I normally leave the house at 6:40, and while I will still make it to work on time, I'm totally thrown. Where are you?
Dear Darling Daughter, thank you from the bottom of my rushed and over reactive mommy heart. Thank you for hiding my keys under your pillow so they would be safe. I had a feeling I left them in your room, but I had no idea where. Thank you finding them and hiding them under your pillow. In the future, could you just bring them to mommy so she can keep them in her purse for safe keeping.
Dear radio on the drive to work. You have helped turn around my day. First Nysnc. Then Weezer (Say it ain't so, of all songs), and finally Red Hot Chili Peppers. It's put the lost keys, the 5:15 call time, and the fact that it's Monday into perspective.
Dear Work... No, just no. Thank God, for the friends that sit near me. That keep me sane, and keep me laughing when you all together SUCK.
Dear 4pm. Thank you for coming, but alas your joy is short lived. It's off to ballet. Then home to throw dinner together, then homework... Hey this sounds familiar. Like a job...
Dear ramen, grilled cheese, and pre sliced fruit that is expensive but worth it. Dinner is served. Thanks for the solid.
Dear Husband. Thank you for doing the dishes and vacuuming the kitchen (Swiffer Vac yo!), and the living room. Thank you for doing the job I hate the most.
Hello coconut milk ice cream. I know you are in there. I'll meet you on the couch in one hour.
Dear Monday. Here we are at 7:01 in the evening. I can't say I'm sad to see you go. But really as far as Monday's go, you weren't so bad. Can you give Tuesday a message for me? For the love of all things holy, be easy on me.

I'm sure this post isn't what Lisa Leonard had in mind. But I'm going to link up with her today anyway. So go over there and read some real Hello Monday posts that aren't so sarcastic. And most likely have great pictures.

Baby we were born to run....

2013-04-21T18:41:00.000-07:00

Wednesday I figured out why I couldn't write a single thing. I had Boston on my mind and in my heart. The senselessness of it all. One minute everyone is celebrating a major milestone, a 26 mile marathon, and the next, devastation. Like every major news event, I was glued to the TV and social media. I'm a serious news junkie and I just want more and more info. I guess I think it will help me understand the why. I still don't understand the why. For almost a week I thought about Jeff Bauman Jr. He was one of the first of the victims I saw in photographs. In a wheelchair, gripping his leg, which was badly injured. His face was in my mind. With every news report, every picture, I kept thinking about the man in the wheelchair. On Tuesday I didn't even know his name. Thursday I found his name, in an article about the pictures run my major media outlets. Jeff, had indeed survived. Both legs amputated under the knee, surgery to relieve fluid in his abdomen, but alive. Then I realized I had been holding my breath. I had been praying daily for a man I have never known, who I will never meet. But I knew he needed my prayers. I prayed that he was safe, and alive, and in good care. As the week went on with the manhunt and the shut down of a major city in the US, I thought about other tragedies that we have faced as Americans. Whether they were on US soil or not. One thing has always been clear, the American spirit to rally will never perish. Even at our darkest hours, Americans will rally around each other. No matter their creed or color. No matter their party or their vote. They will rally and come together. Offer help, offer shelter, offer hope, and always offer prayer. Is it any wonder that the stories of heroes like the man in the cowboy hat, captivate us? That stories of Bostonians opening up their restaurants and business, even there homes to help displaced runners who had no where to go, steel us in our grief? No, because it's what we do, as a country, as a people. We come together, we pray together, we heal together. The people of Boston, the victims, the first responders, the families of the perished, they have miles to go. They have a journey of grief that they must go on. With every bump in the road, every turn and fork in front of them. We as Americans, we too have our own journey. Our resolve a little stronger, our hearts on a higher alert. We will not go about our days and forget. We will add the marathon bombings onto our lists of acts by terrorists that were aimed at tearing us apart. To make sure that we got knocked to our knees. To make sure we had a harder time getting up. Those terrorists, they always forget. We are not easily knocked down. We are not slow to get up. We rise from our tragedies with a renewed vigor. We will not be intimidated, or submitted. We will not let the acts of a few, hold hostage the many. As Americans we band together, we push forward with tears in our eyes and patriotism in our hearts. This time next year, we will be watching the Boston Marathon while holding our breaths. Like any other anniversary of a great tragedy we will be mindful of the year before. We will be more cautious. We may even be a little scared. But it won't stop us. We, the entire nation will be there, in person, or in our hearts. We will be waiting for those amazing athletes to cross that finish line. To say, no yell, at those who challenge us, "You can't take this from us!". Because baby we were born to run.

Thursday Therapy

2013-04-18T02:30:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to bed. I didn't check Instagram one last time. I didn't go on Pinterest for an extra laugh. I didn't turn on the new for more marathon coverage. I just went to bed. Half of me was guilt ridden, half of me was sad. I'm feeling this extraordinary pull. I spend all my time away from home these days, or so it seems. When I finally walk back through the door, I'm not surprised at my overwhelming compulsion to do nothing. Nothing. Not a thing. Not even blogging.
That's been the hardest part. Not having it in me to write. I string thoughts that could make a post. Stories told to myself in my head. But the act of picking up a pen, or logging into blogger leave me uninterested.
Funny how one day away, one night off, reminds me of the relief I get when I write. How much better I feel. So today, all I thought about was getting to my laptop and writing. Even if it was crap. Which by now you have probably noticed this is just a jumble of thoughts. Dancing in my head. And so I give you my little piece of therapy for the day.
I've got writers block. Or maybe writers fatigue. I can't for the life of me write something quickly. With work, then coming home to children I dearly miss, dinner to make and homework to do, I feel like there is not enough time to eek out a post. I'm feeling the pressure now as I write this while my children play and the husband wrangles. I could push this moment to later tonight when the kids are in bed, but what about me? Lately mommy needs her sleep. I'd say beauty sleep but really? Let's be honest, there is nothing beautiful of 2nd day hair and bags under the eyes. So today's post is what it is. Something quick. Something easy. Something almost brainless.
I've never wanted this blog to feel like work. And thankfully it still doesn't, but my heart hurts a little that I can't write the way I want. I can't have the ease and the blocks of time to really put my heart into it. So my posts may be spotty. You may see really great stuff at the beginning of the week and then some leaner stuff at the end. And that's ok for now. I look forward to late night weekend blogging sessions, but I may choose sleep over the blogging. I'm really that tired.
So that's my bloggy therapy for today. Anything you want to get off your chest? Need to make a bloggy confession? Go ahead and leave it in the comments, or write your own and leave it in the comments. Because this is way cheaper than therapy.

Decisions

2013-04-16T02:30:00.000-07:00

What was the biggest decision you had to make when you entered motherhood? Was it to breastfeed or not to breastfeed? Was it to cloth diaper? Was it about co-sleeping or ferberizing? All big decisions that we make for our kiddos, but what if I told you the biggest decision I had to make when I became a mom, had nothing to do with my child and everything to do with me.
Motherhood was like a fairy tale that I had been hearing my whole life. The perfect child, in the perfectly decorated nursery, with the perfect mother (me?). Everything including my child would be swathed in cotton candy colored flannel blankets, and that I'd bask in the sunlight while I rocked my darling babe to sleep. We all know that this was not the case, and my ideas about motherhood and how I would mother got knocked on it's ass. The fairy tale was over in less than three sleepless weeks, and I was faced with a new dilemma. How do I get over this?
I guess I could have pushed myself harder, but since the day I was born, I am extremely hard on myself. I think it comes from being born with a penchant for OCD and the Type A personality chromosome. From the beginning, any little failure or defeat was met with fear and loathing. Could I ever do anything right? Would I ever be able to face those challenges again? I would obsess over every little mistake, every little slip up, every little defeat. Even now, when I hit publish on this blog, only to go back and view it and find that I have typos... I berate myself, fix the typos, and pray that no one saw the mix up. How sick is that?
So instead of pushing myself harder, and over the edge I had to slowly come to some decisions. Decisions about me, about motherhood, about what I had come to expect out of both. My conclusion: I could be happy or I could be crazy. And when I say crazy, I don't mean that I needed medication. Unless there is medication for bitchiness. Which is what I mean by crazy.
I feel like it's a decision that many of us have to come to. Like a come to Jesus talk. We have to have a come to mama talk. Do I want to be happy or do I want to be crazy? Do I want to appreciate and acknowledge the mess of my life for what it is, a blessing? Or would I rather be crazy and obsess about every stain on a shirt, every dish in the sink, every sock without a mate? I think the decision is pretty clear.
I was talking with another mom a few weeks ago, and she said something that totally struck a chord: Can I be happy with who I am right now? Can I be content with my life, as is, right now? That's a pretty powerful question to ask yourself. Can you answer that question? Can we accept our lives the way they are right now, and find comfort in them? Can we look in the mirror and accept who is looking back at us? Can we strive to be better, to do more, to be more, but truly not be devastated when it doesn't go the way it was intended? These are the decisions we must make for ourselves, as mothers or not.
I have been happily making decisions about motherhood, since my "happy vs crazy" revelation. I have decided to pick my battles. Some days cookies instead of pancakes is a battle I know I'm not going to win. Some days the laundry gets done, or the dishes, but not both. Some days my kids are quietly playing, but their rooms and outlying areas are a disaster. I make the decision to let it go, let them play, let me browse Pinterest a little longer, serve Mac and Cheese for the 3rd consecutive night. Decisions that may not make me the perfect wife and mother, but make me a happier person all the way around.
Can we make the decision to be happy with the person we have become in motherhood? The woman who is no longer a girl. Who understands that the biggest crisis in the world is not a day without makeup, but a day without Nick Jr. The woman who feels like her solo trip to Target is comparable to an island vacation. The woman who prefers yoga pants to heels. Can we like her? Can we love her? Can we accept her?
Possibly our biggest decision when it comes to motherhood is whether we accept what motherhood has made us. There is always room for improvement, but what if that improvement takes longer than we anticipated? Should we put happiness on the back burner until the conditions are perfect?
Let's decide that we like her, that woman looking back at you in the mirror. Let's decide that we accept her, let's decide that we are happy, in the moment, in the here and now. Maybe the key to having it all is realizing that "all" is a relative term. Your all and my all are totally different. And that's ok. In fact its just perfect.
I've decided to be happy. I've decided to pick my battles. I've decided to accept that woman looking back at me in the mirror. I've also decided that I do want it all, but just not at the same time. Because it's the only way I can enjoy it all.

Is there a price tag? {Life Lately}

2013-04-15T02:30:00.000-07:00

These moments are what I will miss most when I'm at work.

Days spent at home with my girls, are days that I have taken advantage. Granted I've always known how lucky and blessed I have been to get to stay home. That it's a privilege that many do not get. But at what cost, at what sacrifice am I willing to ignore the obvious...

The pay sucks.

I have never discussed financials on the blog, but I'll tell you as of late, it's been a struggle. Starting small, like a whisper, and growing and growing into a scream, a din I can no longer ignore. It's become obvious and clear that I need to return to the workforce, and not just in a seasonal part time capacity. But in a full time, sign over my other goals and aspirations and dive into, what millions of moms everywhere are doing now... Working.

Afternoons at Target with blue icee mouths.
It's easy to take these days for granted.

Maybe I sound like a brat. Stomping my feet and crossing my arms. Maybe I've been pampered or lazy, but returning to the workforce is not something I want to do. It's not something I'm looking forward too, but it's something that I'm going to do. For my family.

Yet in thinking about returning to work, I've been thinking about the value of the Stay at Home Mother. What is the value? The cost? The price tag of the infamous Stay at Home Mother?

Is it strange that I have a hard time pleading my case to stay home when the sink is full of dishes? When the laundry is piled up, both dirty and clean. When the kids rooms look like Toys R US on Black Friday. How do I then plead a case that I'm in fact valuable and cost effective as a stay at home mom?

Dancing like no on is watching.
You can't put a dollar amount on these moments.

It's been another tough transition as I returned to work on Thursday. Getting used to mom being away for the morning routine, drop off and pick up, or after school activities. The girls are slowly getting used to it again, and I wonder how they would do if this was on a full time basis. The thing is, I actually enjoy doing all the menial tasks of motherhood. This was not the case a few years ago, but now, in my groove, I feel like I've finally got it down. That I'm now a top performer in this SAHM gig. I'm a school volunteer, a room mom, a soon to be Girl Scout troop leader. But none of these wonderful experiences pay the big bucks, or any bucks for that matter.

How do we put a price on the SAHM? Am I being selfish, that I'm only thinking about all of the experiences and life I'm going to miss out on. I know a lot of working moms, and I feel that sometimes this blog is almost offensive in the way that I go on and on about being a SAHM and how hard, or how challenging it is. I almost envy the working mom who has known no other way, who finds comfort in the role she has carved out for herself. The working mom who is confident and proud of her career and her children.

I cannot put a price on the years I have been able to spend with my children in the most formative years of their lives. I cannot set a monetary amount on our time, the days spent on the couch in our jammies watching Nick Jr. The mornings where we had cookies for breakfast, or a quick run to Starbucks for tea and cake pops. Great memories made, experiences had, imperfectly perfect days. I don't know what lies ahead. I don't know if I'll be able to find work. Who's going to hire a SAHM who has been out of work for almost 6 years? My hope is that I'll be able to find my way, develop my new self, and have as good a grasp on working mom, as I feel like I do being a SAHM.

There is no monetary value, no price tag that can be attached to motherhood. Motherhood is in fact what we make it. We take the good, the bad, the ugly, and the imperfect and make it our own. There is no price you can set upon that. All we can do is swim within the riches of what motherhood brings us.

There is no job around that can pay me what motherhood has paid me for the last six years. Unfortunately that pay, doesn't convert into dollars.

Linking up with Alli and Haley

Missing in action {InstaFriday}

2013-04-12T02:30:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I was part of the Instagram outage. I've got to confess I freaked a little. We were out and about as a family on a Sunday. That's kind of rare in this family considering most Sundays we are in our pjs all day. I was so sad that I couldn't post any pictures, but I kept trying. And trying. And trying. So in the end, I still got some pretty fabulous pictures, of a perfectly imperfect Sunday.

We went to Big Hat Days here in Clovis. It's to mark the beginning of rodeo season. You can't go to Big Hat Days and not buy a big hat. Obviously.

The weather was beautiful, in fact it was perfect for some Hawaiian Shaved Ice. Here is Mac savoring every single bite. While she watches Daddy buy the hot dog she's been asking for.

More icee love. In the shade, enjoying the breeze. What is it about an outdoor festival that makes spending $6 on shaved ice seem reasonable? For these faces, I'm sure we'd have paid anything.

This is a girl and her duck. That walks. She got lots of looks and smiles as she walked her duck to the car. Sure it made the walk that much longer, but really, where did we have to go? It was turning out to be one of those lazy Sundays.

These are my missing in action shots, from a day where I felt I was missing in action online. Only to find out that I was totally present and in the moment offline. Sometimes being shut out of your favorite app is a blessing in disguise. Guess the universe was trying to tell me something.

How a book established a friendship

2013-04-11T02:30:00.000-07:00

Last week I posted this picture in Instagram. It was and is a lovely book. A treasure in my eyes. It's the book that Julia Child and Louisette and Simone are working on in Julie and Julia. A movie that I just adore, because who can say no to Amy Adams (seriously go watch Leap Year, now), but I'm not a cook. Not really and while I would have loved to display this book, I'm not a decorator either. I'm just a book worm, who loves to spend mornings in my local used bookstore. But this book will hold a special place in my heart, because it really did establish a friendship.
The crazy thing about blogging is that you interact with people that you may never meet. It's fun to get shout outs from your favorite "big" bloggers, but it's even more satisfying to have conversations with bloggers you have come to know and love. It's funny that I've taken to talking about some of my bloggy friends as if they are my friends in real life. As if I just got off the phone with them. That's what blogging does. It sets the foundations for not just interactions and contacts, but for actual friendships.
What I can't really explain to most is the community that I have entered. It's not a clique, or a secret club, it's more of a neighborhood. A bunch of women, with kids, without, crafty, or artistic, bookish, nerdy, beautiful, fashionable. Yet, we all like each other. We all tweet and facebook and comment on each other's blogs. We give encouragement. We pray. We love each others kids. It's crazy. It's unreal. Last year, I wanted to meet up with another blogger in Southern California so we could road trip to a conference. My husband was appalled. He could not believe that I would go to someones house I had never met and just get in her car. When I tried to explain that I knew her through her blog, he claimed that she could be a serial killer. But Babe, I said, I read her blog, I see her kids on Instagram, we tweet. It's totally cool. I know her.
Because I felt like I really did.
So that brings me to the book. I had recently exchanged numbers with Tricia so we could text. Can I just say how fabulous this is? Getting a text from someone you normally tweet is so much fun. So imagine my surprise when I get a flurry of texts from Tricia. Am I still at the bookstore? What does the book look like? Hello? Where are you? So I text her back and soon find out that that book up there is a highly sought after book. Especially if it has the copy write date of 1961, which it did. Then a text later revealed that they are being auctioned on Ebay for a queens ransom. I had to get the book. Pronto!
I go back to the store, kids in tow, and race up the staircase... Yes, staircase, and it's as fabulous as it sounds.. I find the book, open to the main page and call Tricia. No answer. So I leave a message. Hey it's me, Megan, I got your book, call me. And when I hang up I think... She has never heard my voice. I have never heard hers. This is like some twisted blind date situation.
It's what happened when she called me back that is amazing. Tricia and I talk. Like we have known each other for years. When she tells me about her day, I already know the details because of Instagram. When we talk about her life, I already know details because of her blog. When I offer advice, she receives it, happily, because she reads my blog. And just like that, this friendship, that was established in social media, is then defined in real life. As if we were neighbors and I was picking up some milk for her.
What I love most about this story is that I gave no thought about going the extra mile for Tricia. I wanted to do it, because I already knew she would do it for me.

Twitter will not destroy my marriage

2013-04-10T13:30:00.000-07:00

There has been great debate around these parts that Twitter, nay, blogging and social media will be the demise of my marriage. I kid you not. My devotion to my blog, my tweeps, the Instagram followers, will indirectly be the death of my marriage, and in time the American family. I couldn't make this up if I tried friends so let me explain...
When I started blogging a few years ago, it was just me and my blog. I shared my "posts" on my personal Facebook page, and if I got a few likes on Facebook I was a happy girl. I was exercising my writing chops that had been out of practice for far too long. And I was happy. The husband was happy. My children were, well they were my children. I posted about once a week if I could, and pretty much left it at that.
Then I found Pinterest. Perhaps Pinterest should be blamed for the demise of my marriage. At any rate, I found Pinterest and then I found a handful of bloggers who were crafty, and fashionable, and beautiful. They wrote about their children, and the days they spent in perfectly decorated houses. They made things like cake pops and fruit pies. And they were blogging the way I wanted to blog. To the masses, with followers, and sponsors, and they got free stuff. It was like I had finally seen the light.
So I started following the "big girls", I linked up to the big girl leagues, I entered giveaways, and started following and following and following. The more I read the more I wanted to be, and the more I wanted to be the more time I spent in front of a screen. A computer screen or my iPhone screen. Whatever it took to get one more follower, one more comment, one more like.
And so it took a toll. You can't spend hours in front of a screen and expect a clean house and a happy family. You can't blog to your hearts content and not sacrifice a few things around the house. And this my friends has been the thorn in the side of my marriage. A thorn that gets sharper with every like, comment, or uptick in followers. A thorn that sticks and draws blood when I feel like the blog is calling me for more content, more sweat, more tears, more me... And when that blood is drawn, it's pow wow time
The Hubbs and I have a conversation. Sometimes it's a fight. We have been having this same conversation for over a year, and we have it periodically throughout the year. The "why is this so important to you" speech. The "are those people in your phone more important that us" speech. And with an eye roll that almost causes me to keel over, I tell him no, they are not more important than you, or the children. Those "readers" or followers behind the screen are not more important than my family... But my blog is important to me. Maybe it's appears to be priority number one, or even number four, and while it will in no way compare to my real life touchable and tangible family, my blog is still important TO ME.
Because it's been a long time since something has been all mine. It's been a long time since I have had something to show for all the spit up, all the poop, all the laundry, all the dishes. All the mundane daily tasks that I take for granted. All the tasks that are actually blessings in disguise. It's been a long time since someone has told me "Hey that thing you did, it was fantastic". It's been a long time since I worked on something so intently, and instead of it getting destroyed fifteen minutes after doing it, it lives, in black and white.
So perhaps, many of us lose ourselves to blogging or social media. We like the idea that our status updates of cranky toddlers, sassy teenagers, or horrible service at Starbucks, is met with confirmation. We like that the outfits and self portraits we post to Instagram are met with "you look great" or "you're a hot mama", because most days, we don't hear anything remotely close. We need that confirmation, we crave it. Because we are confirming all the life around us, selflessly. WE make sure that those around us are safe, content, and happy. So it's nice to get some of that confirmation in return.
Social media and blogging will not and cannot be the demise of my marriage. I won't let them. Both have made me incredibly happy over the last two years. The friends I have made. The community of women who stand together, even when they don't see eye to eye on every single thing. We still have a great love and great respect for each other. Being in this community makes me happy, makes me feel whole again, makes me feel like a person again. It reminds me that I was Megan first, and then I became Mommy.
So no, social media and blogging will not ruin or destroy my marriage.
As long as the Hubbs continues to ignore my blog posts.

Good Daddies

2013-04-08T22:56:00.000-07:00

Have I ever mentioned that my girls have a good Daddy? They do. And it's not because I want something or I did something that I'm writing this post. Ok, maybe it is, but I just wanted to say for the record that my girls have a great Dad, and you know, I just don't say it enough.

Caitlin made this bracelet just for Daddy.
And made sure he wore it all weekend.

In defense of dads, I think they get a bad rap. I mean I wrote a post about the Mother/Father Double Standard, and it didn't make dads look bad, but it didn't make them look good either. I'm kind of sorry for that. That post wasn't to say I have a bad husband and that he's a bad dad, it was mainly to point out a double standard. But somewhere along the line it was determined that I was putting down some daddies.
My apologies.
Dads, listens, in your defense you do a spectacular job. The problem is you do it your way... and not our way. You see, when we want you to do your "dad" job, what we really want is for you to do it our "mom" way. I know we don't say this, or tell you this, or even insinuate this, but it's the truth. We love that you want to pitch in to help, but when you do we want it done our way...

Ready for the Father Daughter Dance.

How many times have you watched your hubby do something and think...
That's not the what I would have done. Why are you doing it that way? Oh, geeze for cripes sakes let me do it!
Sound familiar? This happens so often in my house I'm pretty sure it happened tonight. It's because my husband does things his way. His way. Those are the magic words. His way. It's been this way since the beginning. When we brought babies home from the hospital he didn't diaper like me, or bottle like me, or put a baby to sleep like me. And it drove me crazy. When I asked him to help, I wanted it done my way. I wanted him to make a bottle following the steps I did. I wanted him to do everything for our babies the exact way I did. Because I thought it was the right way. And he just thought I was crazy. Do you find yourself feeling the same way? Maybe that's why we are usually so hard on dads, because while they are totally carrying their weight, they are just carrying it differently from the way we carry ours... And for some reason it causes madness.
Case in point, when the Hubbs took over bath time. I've never really been a fan of bath time. I usually end up soaked. I'm all about business, brush teeth, wash up, dry off, bed. But Dad, oh, Dad is all about fun. Bubbles, water fights, crazy shampoo mohawks, splash mountain, you name it dad is game. That's what is so cool about dad. Dad can let go of the list that mommy has made of all the things that have to get done before bed time. Dad, while he respects the schedule, is not a slave to it. Dad, knows how to let loose and have fun. And while moms can say they can let loose with the best of them, inside they are really thinking about the wet floor, the half empty bottle of bubble bath that was bought two days ago at Target, and the 7th towel she will have to launder after mopping up said wet floor. That's why I can't do bath time the justice that dad does. And for awhile that bothered me.
But in Dad's defense, what did he do wrong? Are the kids clean? Yes. Are the teeth brushed? Yes. Did the kids have fun, and enjoy the ride? Yes. And, in this house, did Dad clean up the mess? YES! So really what did he do wrong? Nothing. It's not the way I'd do bath time, but that's just it, I didn't have too. This took me a long time to understand. Just because I could hear the shenanigans, didn't mean that I had to go in there and referee, or play mommy cop and break up the kegger. What it meant was Dad was having some seriously fun Dad kiddo time, and mom got to do whatever she wanted. Which had been and is not limited to, blogging, watching TV, reading a book, or catching up on Twitter.
My girls have an amazing dad. He likes adventures in the front yard. He knows all the words to some Disney Channel theme songs. He know the difference between Monster High and Barbie. He can even name a few My Little Ponies. He'd never admit this but he can. He reads bedtime stories with better voices. He like the dirt and paint and grit that drives me crazy. Most of all he likes being a dad. He enjoys his time with his girls. He looks forward to it. Gets excited about it. That's what makes him a great dad.

It's time to get down and boogie on
Father Daughter Dance night.

So, in defense of dad's everywhere, we know you are not exactly like Phil Dunphy. Moms everywhere know you can handle this gig. We know that you are well equipped for the job.
It's just we still want you to do it our way.

The day my Instagram died.

2013-04-08T21:50:00.002-07:00

You've got to be kidding me right now...

I'm in mourning over here. Don't you dare laugh, as one of my favorite social media apps has gone and died on me. As of yesterday at 12:30 pm my Instagram feed and all my pictures has died. I feel as if there has been a death in the family. Or at least in my circle of friends. I was despondent yesterday and most of today. Will life go on, without my incessant uploading and editing of pictures of my children, breakfast, husband driving, and random cart loads at Target. What about my followers? Will they miss me, will they know that I'm gone?
Truth is, you probably didn't notice. My minor freak out, the deleting and reinstalling of the app, at least seven times, was meaningless. The resetting of my beloved iPhone was all in vain as well. According to the mecca that is Google, there is a major outage for the likes of Instagram, Pinterest, and Netflix, after some thunderstorms back east. Although, Pinterest and Netflix fixed that up right quick, Instagram has yet to recover.
Fine, I get it. It's not the end of the world. Even for a blogger like me. My husband thought it was hilarious, until I explained to him that his daughters baby books are literally in my Instagram feed. That our lives over the last two years have been documented in Instagram pictures. It's not like he is worried or cares more about the outage, he just cut me a little slack. He still thinks I'm ridiculous, and that the world is not missing my paleo/whole 30 breakfast.
So Mr. or MS. Instagram, whoever you are (ZUCKERBERG), please, pretty please with sugar on top fix the Instagram outtage. My kids think that my phone is broken as I'm not snapping pictures like a tourist. I miss showing the world how cute my kids are and how important my shopping cart is at Target or the grocery store. I'm also not wasting any outfits until I can show them off again. Why waste new clothes on regular people in real life? Their comments mean nothing to me, it's the likes and comments on Instagram that let me know I'm doing it right...
Seriously though, I can't even look at my Instagram feed without my heart breaking a little. I feel like the kid picked last for dodge ball. Or like I'm back in high school and I can't sit at the cool kids table!
Why can't I upload pictures of myself making a face like I don't realize I'm taking a picture of myself, but really I am taking a picture of myself? I really miss taking pictures of myself, not caring about taking pictures of myself... Isn't this the essence of Instagram?
And yes, I just wrote an entire post about Instagram, and I still can't post to Instagram.
Your welcome.

Today {coffee date}

2013-04-05T09:04:00.002-07:00

Today is one of those days.
Today is one of those days that I really want a tea from Starbucks. Like in the old days. Where the first drink reassured me that everything was going to be ok. That I was going to make it through the day. That no task was too big, that no cry too loud, that no cloud could darken the day. Those were the old days. Today, I'll have to take water, or Izze soda.
Today is a day that clean hair will get wasted on yoga pants and flip flops. Hair that will go otherwise unnoticed to everyone but me. That clean hair is about all the beauty routine I have in me today.
Today is a day that I just want to read books. New books, fresh, with spines ready to crack. Old books, bought at a used book store that smell of history and love. Books, filled with words, and worlds, and love and loss. A day to lose myself in one of my biggest addictions, words.
Today is a day that powdered donuts make perfectly imperfect breakfast for a two year old. A day where the box sits lazily on the counter, and while mommy blogs, does dishes or eats breakfast, my little one can grab one or two to her hearts delight. Tomorrow is a day to be more nutritious.
Today is a day where a cross town trip to by the latest issue of The New Yorker doesn't seem crazy. It seems practical. It seems like a perfectly good excuse for a mini road trip alone, with the windows down and Mumford blasting. It's sounding better and better every second.
Today is a day where I'm sure I will lose my temper, once, maybe twice, about something very simple. Something very meaningless, something that should not even make me lose my temper. But I can feel it. Like a whisper, that today is a day for tantrums of all shapes and sizes.
Today is a day that I will try and embrace. No matter that my dryer is broken. No matter that I'm sleep deprived. No matter that my house looks like we moved out, weeks ago, and could care less about a cleaning deposit. A day where cooking any meal seems daunting. A day when I look out the window and really think that we should go to the park, and then like usual don't.
Today is a day for anything. Curve balls. Impromptu visits. Target trips with no list. Starbucks orders that make no sense. Frozen yogurt for breakfast. Today is a day, where it feels like a dream, and reality, and someone elses life all at the same time.
Today is a day that's full of promise and possibility. And it's all mine to have.
It's all yours to have too.

linking up with Alissa

Wore {Artsy Anthropology}

2013-04-04T02:30:00.000-07:00

If you guys have been following me on Instagram, then I'm sure you have seen my new Artsy Anthropology clutch. How can I put into words how much I love this clutch. I can't. Not really. All I can say is that it made my birthday month a little brighter. It makes my outfits a little brighter. And it makes me feel like one of those bloggers who rocks homemade swag from her bloggy friends. I'm in love.

Let's talk about how well made this clutch is. I'm not afraid to carry it around my kids. That should be explanation enough. The leather is sold, the material is gorgeous, and do I even have to mention the sharks. That was the happiest of surprises. I love the sharks. Just the right amount of sass to sweet. I loved it.
I've carried it a few times, including date night, and it holds all the necessities. Wallet, phone, gloss, hair ties, coupons. Yes, coupons, lest you forget I got kids and groceries to buy!!
I know what you are thinking, another promo post that you could really care less about. I'm going to stop you right there. One, Paige is a blogger that you could love. She's got style, she's super creative, and she lives a messy life, like me and isn't afraid to show it on Instagram. Instant love in my book. So before you click away, let me share some of Paige's wares, and I promise you won't be sorry!!

Her shop on Storenvy. That my friends is the Whitney bag. Since I'm sure it's made with the same care and finesse as my clutch, I will tell you it's a must have. I entered many a giveaway last month in the hope that I would win one of those babies. It's lovely, and comes in more than just yellow chevron. Be sure to check it out.

Also, girlfriend makes scarves. Infinity scarves. Be still my heart. Right now she is currently making jersey knit scarves in polkas and solids, and my new favorite a really cute heart print. Again, do I really need to go on? Find her etsy shop here!
Fine. Don't believe me, but be sure to check it out for yourself. Paige is currently working on more handmade goodness, including burp cloths and diaper bags. I know, it's crazy, and just about gives me baby fever!!! So head on over and meet Paige. And if you see something you like, use the code: absolutemommy for 10% off your order. You'll use it. Trust me.

Things I love {Trendy Little Link Up}

2013-04-03T02:30:00.000-07:00

I love that this gal has style all her own.

I love that this one always says, "Too many pictures, Mommy!".

I love that this one begged for the frog basket, and that she actually posed.

I love that in her mind this was the appropriate attire for Costco. Wedge sandals that are way too small. Purse. Fairy wings and wand. My old sunnies. Leggings, and Forever21 top. She styled this all on her own.

I love that Mac insisted on wearing her "monster truck" shirt. A hand me down from her cousin JT, who is now 12!
I love that my girls have their own personalities. I love that yesterday, we had the windows down and Taylor Swift blasting. I love that Mac asks for the "piggy" song... She says that Taylor sounds like that piggy in the insurance commercial, when she sings we are never getting back together. I love that she drew that conclusion all on her own. I love that Caitlin likes only the fast songs, and begs me to change the slow songs. I love that Mac actually knows the chorus to "Stay", and sings it when she thinks we aren't listening. I love that Mac yells at me when I sing along in the car. I get it girls, I can't carry a tune...
I love that they are carving their own places out in this world. And I love that they are sure to leave colorful and creative marks every step of the way.

Linking up with Chelsea for Trendy Littles

Full {Life Lately}

2013-04-02T11:38:00.000-07:00

Ice cream lunches.

When a 2 year old hands you a fake sundae, you better eat up.

First time hula hooping. She did excellent.

Cousins make the best bunnies.

Life lately has been full. I don't want to say busy, or messy, or stressed, because while it has been all of those and more, to be honest it's been full. Filled to the gills with love, overflowing with fun and laughter, packed with blessings. I didn't want to sit down and write about how exhausted I am after spring break. I didn't want to talk about being so busy and the need to slow down. I wanted to talk about the amazing ability to jam pack a full life with more life.
I didn't write for a few days. It was good for me. I spent a lot of time on last weeks "big" post, and I was overwhelmed by the response. Thank you for all of your kind words, your own stories, and of course your continued support of my writing. When I started this two years ago, I would have never imagined the support system I'd get in return. I read every comment, and while it may take me a month to respond, I will respond. I just wanted you all to know that.
Yesterday, without a post up, I thought about the desire to be a better blogger. The one who keeps to a schedule. In the past I have tried. Been devastated by not having a post go "live" by 8 am EST. I had to give that up. Not only was I driving myself crazy, but I was missing out on a lot of my life. If I would have put the breaks on my life yesterday, to put up this post I would have missed out on two lovable fashionistas. I would have missed out on some serious play-doh cookies. I would have missed out on reading almost half of a lovely book. Missed the first viewing of Beauty and the Beast by my two beauties. I would have also missed out on laughing hysterically with my hubby in bed while we browsed Pinterest together on the iPad. The couple that laughs together, stays together. Or something like that.

Cutest photo bomber.

Working on three, since we will be three soon!

Time to find eggs.

Daddy running with the kite, flipping mommy the bird.
I didn't realize he was doing this until I went to post the picture.
And then I got the giggles.

Caitlin bunny.
I thought it was a little freaky, but she thought it was cool.

I have been lucky that life lately has been so full. That we as a family have been so full. That I, as a mom, as a woman, as a human, have been so full. It's always easy to point out the mess, the stress, and the busy. I've been all of those and more. Yet today, none of those bother me, because just for today I am full.

Parts of this post was inspired by Chelsea. Check her out at Sunny with a Chance of Sprinkles.
Linking up with Alli

The Lie

2013-03-29T02:00:00.000-07:00

Wednesday March 27th, 2013 marked the first big lie. Told to me, by Miss Caitlin, age five, with corroborators. It really isn't the nature of the lie, just the fact that it's the first big whopper, of what I'm sure are many. Here is the skinny.

I left Caitlin in the care of my grandparents and my aunt Marilyn while my mom, Mac and I took a quick trip to Costco. The trip, including a stop at the ATM took about an hour. Not bad for a Wednesday before Easter. On our way back, we got a call, my aunt Marilyn. She relayed the story to my mom, Caitlin had cut her finger. When my mom asked how, she was told, "I'll let Caitlin tell you that story". All we knew is that Caitlin was upset, there was a lot of blood, and the story on how it happened was pretty sketch.

When we got back to my grandparents house, Marilyn and Papa (my grandpa, Caitlin's great grandpa) were outside on the porch with an inconsolable Caitlin. As soon as she saw me she got upset all over again. The washcloth that was wrapped around her finger had lots of red on it. So I was totally ready to pop her in the car and take a ride to the hospital. Upon further instruction it looked like she had just cut off the top of her finger. But how?

According to Caitlin, she was running, fell, and scrapped her finger on the ground. Kind of like you stub a toe, and believable. The story was totally believable. I mean it looked like a stubbed toe, only it was a finger. So I was buying the story one hundred percent. Until my Aunt Marilyn chuckled and shook her head. For Caitlin's sake everyone stuck to the story for the time being.

We did our best to clean up the finger, her "bird" finger as my grandpa kept calling it. If you know my grandpa, then this is his usual fodder, except that at five, Caitlin has no idea what makes a "bird" finger! Once we cleaned it, I sat with Caitlin and she kept asking me through crying if I was mad. Begging almost for me not to be mad. I told her I wasn't mad that she hurt herself, I just wanted to make sure her finger was ok, and that she was ok. Little did I know, there was a little cloud of guilt surrounding my daughter.

In the kitchen, away from Caitlin, Papa told me that on GG's (my grams, their great grams) watch, Caitlin actually cut the top of her middle finger off with a potato peeler. She had been left alone in the kitchen for just a minute when, upon seeing the blood started screaming. Between the blood and the screaming, my grandma, poor GG, got physically ill. Papa and Marilyn did their best to clean it up and calm my girl. As a side note, my girl is not a calm girl, like ever. Any sign of blood, any scrape, any fall she starts crying immediately whether it warrants it or not. So I'm sure this was full blown, especially since I wasn't there.

When I think about it, I'm kind of glad I wasn't there. Because my first reaction would have been to scream and yell. Out of fear, out of anger, and out of control. I don't like my babies to hurt, and I think this is actually something I can control. I know, I'm still learning some lessons of motherhood.

Anyway, after an hour with a cleaned up and bandaged finger, the truth slowly came out. A teary confession of what really happened. I wasn't mad that she lied, I just wanted to know why. Caitlin told me that she knew if she told me the truth about the potato peeler I was going to be mad at her and GG. She's kind of right... But instead of telling her that, I told her that I wouldn't have been mad, and that in the future I need her to tell me the truth about things like this. I told her that if I know how she got the boo boo, then I will know how to fix it faster and better. I also told her that I'm never really mad at her when she hurts herself, I'm just scared. Because mamas get scared, and they always want to fix boo boos and make them better.

You could tell that made her boo boo feel a little better. Nothing like a clean conscience, right?

As for her corroborators, I'm not mad at them either. They were playing along, some how always knowing that she would tell me the truth. Papa later told me that Caitlin told him, "I can't tell Mommy the truth, she will be so mad!", and he told her, "You tell her whatever you want, and I'll back you up".

Caitlin is a smart girl. Papa is definitely the guy you want to back you up when you lie to your mother.