Kitchen Sink

Imperfect Christmas Wishes

2010-12-23T14:53:00.002-06:00

The most wonderful time of the year started with me having an intestinal bug so severe My Beloved stayed home from work to care for Baby Henry because I was too sick to get out of bed. Today, with all the kids home and so full of mischief (as a euphemism for the words I'd like to use) even threats of calling Santa, the naughty list, or No Christmas celebration at all, have fallen on, pardon the pun, deaf ears.
I instituted a mandatory nap time, so everyone is currently taking some time out in their rooms, and I began to clean out the microwave (I suspect my parents notice my sometimes icky microwave, so I clean it before they come). I suddenly had thoughts of the most perfect mother, Mary, the earthly mother of Jesus. How "perfect" was she feeling 9 months pregnant all those years ago? I know that Christmas tests my marriage, can you imagine the position she was in and the strain on their relationship? Remember, God chose for his son to be born to real people, she must have had a little heartburn or a few cravings, and we know Joseph had some doubts about his gal too, it's even in the bible.
So in my imaginings, Mary was a little stressed, and maybe even a little snippy with old Joseph, and I am going to give myself a break. Sweet, flour-covered, apron wearing mothers are rarely just that, and if they are, they are trying to sell me something in 60 seconds, I'm on to you Betty Crocker.
I am going to try to give up worry about the perfect outfit to wear to my in-laws, or if I have some new recipe to dazzle my dad, or the absolute ideal of a gift to present to my mother. I am going to let go of my need to have all the presents wrapped and the glass surfaces of my home fingerprint free before my sisters newest beau comes over. Will he remember me for my clean glass surfaces? Unlikely.
I am going to look to someone else this Christmas season for inspiration, instead of combing through Martha Stewart magazines for a recipe, I'm going to take a minute to be thankful to the ultimate mom and remember, whether it's the cleanest house or a manger made of hay, Christ's birth is coming and people are coming to visit and I should be thankful I have a partner to help with the small talk.

Somebody Has To Do It

2010-08-03T21:42:00.003-05:00

"If it is to be it's up to me." - William Johnson

Tonight I worked hard to fulfill My Beloveds fantasies, I helped him with yard work. While I was trudging back and forth across the yard with heavy shovelfuls of dirt to fill holes in various parts of the lawn, I began thinking of that quote. I am sure, when I originally heard it I thought it was brilliant and so inspirational (I must have been in high school). Now I realize it as the bittersweet truth that comes with motherhood and wifedom. If it is to be, I darn well better do it, or else it probably won't get done.*
The wet load of laundry forgotten in the washing machine on Sunday night, still there because no one is missing the clothing that are currently mildewing. The bag that needs to be packed before we go to the water park tomorrow, fall soccer sign up, booking a rental car for our trip to Maine, how about finding a load of wood chips for the front landscaping? A dump truck load should be fine!
I am not complaining so much as I am in awe over the sheer amount of responsibility I have. I can't just decide not to buy milk, or soap, or dog food. Someone has to run the dishwasher, someone has to get school supplies for the kids. The moment I got married I was agreeing to take care of someone for the rest of my life. The instant I became pregnant with Little Monica I was essentially begging for MORE responsibility, and then again with Norah, and why not a third time with Baby Henry?
Fortunately for me I made a good choice in life partner, My Beloved occasionally remembers to start the dishwasher, and takes full responsibility for the trash, recycling, and most of the lawn maintenance (except for nights like tonight), as well as sharing the parenting of our little posse.
Somedays I want to run away, but most times I love the job security, and most times I am thankful to have My Beloved.
Although I am considering devoting a day a year to "If it is to be, it's up to someone else." That day you will find me at the spa.

*No husband blame intended

Making Life a Little Sweeter

2010-07-11T11:13:00.004-05:00

It's amazing what a little time away will give a girl in terms of perspective. Yesterday I helped my parent's out with a wedding they were photographing, check them out here. I make some extra cash, they get some extra help. Everyone wins.
I came home to My Beloved reading How The Grinch Stole Christmas (we celebrate all year) to 3 happy, pajama'd children. So what if it was an hour or more past bedtime. Not sure if they were just glad that the day with dad was over or they were really happy to see me, but I'll take what I can get.
I kissed Norah goodnight, made promises that I would help her organize her jewelry in the morning (better get on that!), sang Baby Henry a few of my greatest hits, then listened patiently as Monica gave me a laundry list of all the things Daddy had done (or more specifically NOT done) while I was gone. Including not feeding them lunch until almost 3pm, and he took them to Burger King, when I had specifically said to eat at home! He also made them work all day in the yard and by the way did I want her to tell me what he got me as a birthday present?
I came downstairs to a handsome husband preparing a plate of crackers and Kaukana spreadable cheese (my favorite), a cool glass of generic Crystal Light with ice, but first I had to come outside and tour the yard to see all the hard work he and the kids had done all day, including pulling out several of the bushes I'd been complaining about. I guess my approval is stronger currency than I'd realized!
Life is Good. Today.

Someday

2010-07-08T18:02:00.004-05:00

So I am in a great mood today. Let me tell you. It is the height of summer, the weather is grand and I am ready to run. AWAY. Seriously. I've stayed away from blogging when I've been in a bad mood for fear of scaring you all, but today I've just had enough. I am ready to explode. Rather than let My Beloved have it (on his birthday, no less) I've opted to spew my dissatisfaction with the blogosphere.
I know I should be grateful for this stay at home mom gig I've got going, but while I love my kids, patience is not a virtue I possess in great quantities. I attempt to do things that seem fun and motherly, but those things generally end up with one or more children getting an angry look at least, and sternly talked to or arm squeezed at most. Luckily for them, I'm generally against spanking.
I've read the parenting books, I've tried to categorize my children so I can best parent them, to no avail, I've yet to read a book to give me advice on how to respond to a child who is stabbing her brother with the sharp end of a cucumber at the farmer's market (yes, cucumber's have a sharp end). I guess I should be thankful we weren't at a cutlery store! I'm trying people, really I am.
One of my dearest friends, the mother of 5 (with one more on the way) regularly takes her kids out in public to Trader Joe's and the like, and doesn't even break a sweat. I've seen her, she's that smooth.
I just don't get it. I take the kids to Target to buy a birthday cake for their dad, I even spring for frosting in a can, and Baby Henry bites into the box of cake mix so we had to have a super friendly (in a mocking, childless person sort of way) Target person get us a new box as we held up the line for everyone behind us, not to mention he was covered in cake mix. I know I shouldn't care, right? But I do, and I feel tremendous guilt.
Why when I take the kids to the pool do 2/3 of them refuse to swim? Norah marches over to a lawn chair lays out a towel and proceeds to spray sunscreen all over, it's only a matter of time before she realizes it's not sunscreen she wants. Baby Henry is content to sit on my lap in the hot sun, arms wrapped tightly around my neck as though the water might touch him. Meanwhile, my friends children are cannonballing off the sides of the pool, periodically needing their goggles adjusted and leaving their mothers in peace to gossip by the side of the pool. I could be so lucky.
What gives? It's hard to be happy and cheerful when I'm the one that waits all day for My Beloved to come home for some adult conversation and he tells me he can't wait to go to bed, to SLEEP! It's hard not to wonder what I'm doing wrong when other people seem happy and relaxed at the pool and I can barely remember swim diapers, let alone water bottles!
Someday I know the kids will be older and won't need me as much, I will miss my Baby Henry as an accessory, Norah's quirkiness will be part of her signature style and Monica will be my cautious adventurer. Someday My Beloved and I will have all the time in the world to talk and pursue our own interests...but until then, I just needed to bitch a little. Thanks.

Father of The Year

2010-06-20T00:24:00.002-05:00

As much as I sometimes want to devote entire blog posts extolling the virtues of My Beloved, I generally refrain, as my love and adoration for some of his virtues ebbs and flows (Sometimes I love his biting wit, other times, not so much). Today though, in honor of Father's Day I will share a few things that I love about My Beloved and why he's a such a great dad.
When you get married, before you have children you only have an inkling of the commitment required to be a parent. Before the blessing of babies, you have no idea just how consumptive they are of all things, big and small.
Yesterday, after a long day of work and running our garage sale we decided to go out to eat to a family restaurant. We divided up sides of the booth, 3 on one side, 2 on the other. Just as My Beloved began to take a bite of his juicy, much longed for cheeseburger he felt a tug on his arm, and he looked down to see Baby Henry smiling as he happily pulled a scab off of My Beloveds arm (from an earlier landscaping injury). Instead of getting angry, My Beloved looked across the table into my eyes, smiled and said "We've reached a new low, even scabs aren't sacred." Strangely my eyes filled with tears at the love I share with someone who is so deeply entrenched in parenting that even really gross things are some how meaningful.
Did I ever imagine 12+ years ago that the highlight of our days would be a successfully executed bedtime routine, when we operate like a well-oiled machine transforming wild, grubby, noisy children into sleeping angels, incapable of nothing but sweetness (note I said sleeping!) until morning? No, I somehow thought it would be more exciting and glamorous, or at least I would be more fashionably dressed, and significantly thinner in my imaginings.
Nevertheless, My Beloved does not disappoint in the fatherhood area, is he always perfect, NO WAY. Does he sometimes yell? Yes. Does he occasionally swear in front of the kids? Yup. Do they often repeat these swear words? Of course, but only when it's really embarrassing for me. For the big stuff though, the man I married is Father of the Year. He works incredibly hard for our family, both at the office and at home. He tries hard to teach our kids lessons in everything he does. This summer he and the kids designed and planted a garden in the backyard, which was somewhat bigger and more work than he bargained for, I think. So far so good, although I'll be interested to see how some of the more exotic things turn out (planting our own cantaloupe for instance). This endeavor has been enriched by our family foray into composting, and everyone is into that. The kids now beg to see how the food scraps are rotting in the backyard compost bin, can you say EXCITING?
So while this life of rotting compost and scabs was not what I imagined when I met my husband, I would choose it again in a heartbeat, scabs and all.

Man In Motion

2010-06-10T13:12:00.002-05:00

This week has been a big week for our family. Little Monica is completing 2nd grade and moving up a group in gymnastics, Norah is graduating from pre-school, and Henry is completing his first full week in a big boy bed. We have been busy!
We have also completed a journey that at times I truly believed would never end. Rory, my Beloved, completed and presented his thesis today. Six years ago when he began this journey we were a happily married couple with one child living in the first home we'd ever purchased, and did we have a lot to learn.
Sometimes I think that movies portray these life journeys in a montage set to a tune (I'm hearing the St. Elmo's Fire theme here). The road is hard, the mountain is steep and the protagonist ultimately makes it to the end of his journey victorious, with a sweat soaked brow and a hot babe waiting at the finish line.
That was not the journey we have been on for the past 6 years. Our road has been mostly gravel, with a lot of stumbling, bruises, skinned knees and hands, and at the end of Rory's journey he did have sweat soaked brow and was victorious, and the hot babe at the end was not a busty blond, but me.
While completing graduate school will give My Beloved 3 new initials after his name (M.P.H.) and a nice diploma, ultimately completing this degree is a sign of the true strength within the man I married. He is certainly not the "dumb jock" I thought he might be the first time we met, but rather he is the smart, sensitive guy who finishes what he started, despite the adversity he may face.
By completing this degree he serves as an example to our children of perseverance and tenacity. With time they should forget the part about MAJOR procrastination and Coca-Cola consumption.

At Long Last

2010-06-08T21:55:00.009-05:00

If you don't have anything nice to say...take a break from blogging. Alas that's been the reason for my hiatus from blogging. I've been pretty stressed and overwhelmed for the past few months and opted out of offending my readers by turning my blog into a bitch fest. Trust me, you should be thanking me.
That said, I am back and cracking under the pressure to offer some tidbit of something that intrigues you enough to keep reading. So I think I'm going to keep this one short, and it might be lame. You were warned.
Summer vacation is banging down the door, and while I remember it fondly from my younger years, as a mother I am filled with both anticipation and dread. 3 months with my children 24/7. My Beloved and I sat down mid-May and tried to sketch out the summer plans, we didn't want our kids to be over scheduled, and we wanted to spend time enjoying our new home. We also wanted to head East to Maine. After careful planning on our part we penciled in plans for various activities, and times we'd head to WI to see family. One week to go and we've already blown our carefully laid June plans to pieces.
I won't lie to you though, I am nervous about being home with the kids, not because I don't adore them, I do, just separately. As a group I would say it's about 90% arguing, fighting, shouting, nagging, whining, and 10% wonder, joy, smiles, happiness and butterflies. Strangely that 10% is usually worth it.
As I've mentioned before, we are working hard to be debt free so that somewhat limits what the kids and I can do. Unfortunately, Jimmy John cannot make lunch for us everyday, we simply can't afford it. My kids are 8, 5, and 2, so they aren't exactly interested in the same things, we've signed up for a few things but are planning on using our YMCA membership to it's fullest. Outdoor pool here we come.
I am going to try to offer healthy snack choices and we are enforcing some rules and chores. I am going to try not to be resentful of My Beloved when he comes home and wants more family time (at this point I usually want to run out the door.) I am going to try to keep my yelling to a minimum. I am going to play with my kids and stay away from Facebook. If I succeed even halfway at this I will consider our summer a success. If not, well, there's always next summer.

Opening Up

2010-03-03T17:01:00.005-06:00

Last night was kindergarten registration. We took Norah, who is almost 5 and she was so excited. I was excited, but mostly scared. Scared because I can't control the future, the world, the noises around her, I can't make her hear everything that I hear.
Norah was diagnosed as hard of hearing at 3 1/2 years old. Norah wears hearing aids.
Some of you may be wondering how we could have missed something so important as hearing, but we were so focused on Norah's brain development, Norah's milestones declaring her normal, her tone, and being seizure free and off seizure medication. The fact that she talked less than her sister and was naughtier than most seemed like little things in the trade off.
Norah was a VBAC gone terribly wrong. If you don't know that term I'll let you look it up yourself. My pregnancy was uneventful, my prenatal care was 2nd to none, and we were financially ready for an addition to our family. What we didn't count on was poorly managed labor and delivery and a helicopter ride to the Mayo Clinic for a baby with Apgar scores of 1. We certainly didn't plan for the seizures that followed an the scary diagnosis of hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy. Statistically Norah is a miracle that she is alive. More miraculous is that she is not severely disabled.
When Norah was 3 we were told our naughty girl was by all pediatric neurologists criteria beautifully, perfectly normal and she had passed her newborn hearing screening. Why would we suspect anything?
When we went to the MN mandated preschool screening Norah did exceptionally on all the academic testing. Then came the hearing tests, she raised her hand for some of the beeps but after awhile decided she was bored and started misbehaving. I sat lamely next to her trying to coax her to raise her hand when I (without headphones on) could hear the beeps. Why was she being such a brat? The person performing the test suggested we come back in 6 months and retest her when she was more mature.
At this point I took matters into my own hands, I wasn't waiting 6 months for my miracle child to pass a hearing test. The first pediatrician told me she must have fluid on her ears. We should give her an antihistamine. We tried that for a week and I came back. Still Norah was awful after the first few beeps. The pediatrician said we should take her to an audiologist, so I made an appointment. When I went to the appointment I was fully educated on ear tubes. I was completely blindsided when the audiologist very flatly told me "Your daughter has severe high-frequency hearing loss and will need hearing aids." Then she told me to make a follow up appointment and sent me on my way.
After some stops and starts we finally found our way to Dr. Jennifer at the U of MN. She changed our worlds from Norah on up. Pediatric audiology is a specialty I never knew existed, but am thankful for everyday.
The day Norah began wearing hearing aids was the worst day of my life. She was getting a lot of new information that she wasn't sure she wanted. She must have pulled them out 500 times and I put them in 501. I was crying she was crying. The next day we were down to 200 times, then 50, and on the fourth day she told us "I think I love my hearing aids." They have been in ever since except bedtime.
Sometimes at bedtime, when Norah is asleep I go into her bedroom and hold her. I look at her little perfectly formed ears without their hearing aids and I feel sad. I feel sad for her, I feel sad for me. I feel afraid for the future and I feel angry. Angry that her hearing loss was preventable. The 15 minutes after her birth where she wasn't breathing damaged her ears and I didn't know and I couldn't stop it.

Note to readers: Thank you for letting me share this with you. It is hard for me to write, but I am hopeful for Norah's future and need to get this stuff out of my system for my own future.
We have a wonderful family and support system. Norah has amazing teachers and a world class audiologist. Thank you for reading.

Yeas and Nays

2010-03-01T16:49:00.003-06:00

Another installment of Yeas and Nays! Feel free to add your own.

Yeas:

Yea to finding the "perfect" First Communion dress for Little Monica.
Yea to sunshine. Finally.
Yea to reconnecting with old friends.
Yea to a wonderful weekend.
Yea to the Olympics being over. Too much must see TV.
Yea to new babies.
Yea to my husband leaving me the last Diet Coke.
Yea to hope and hopefulness.
Yea to buying a new house.

Nays:

Nay to guilt trips.
Nay to potholes.
Nay to whiny kids who make annoying noises.
Nay to having to repeat myself over and over and over.
Nay to all the paperwork involved in buying a house.
Nay to all the scary things happening in the world.

Girl Power!

2010-02-16T12:43:00.004-06:00

Last night My Beloved saw a mouse. As the kids and I were out of town he went to the hardware store down the block and bought everything they had, no mouse was going to share an address with the Malloy family!
No school today for Little Monica, so we ran some errands, Costco, the library then home. Walking into the kitchen with an armload of goods I heard a SNAP! I thought for sure one of the 10 mousetraps set by My Beloved had gone off mistakenly. So I look under the sink and it was not a mistake. I quickly slammed the cupboard door and started to quietly whimper, when I realized I had no audience for the squeamish damsel in distress act I felt a little stupid and stopped whimpering. My decision was made, I would leave the dead mouse in the trap for My Beloved to deal with when he got home.
I began to move on with my day when my mom called, I told her the plan with the mouse and instead of supportive and understanding she said "Isn't Little Monica home with you today?" I said she was, which unleashed in my mother all the girl power opinions I've never heard from her before. Her primary concern had nothing to do with the dead mouse under my kitchen sink, it was the lessons I had clearly missed growing up. What kind of an example was I being for my daughter? Hadn't she taught me independence, self-reliance? That girls can do anything boys can? That women don't need to wait for a man to handle the dirty work? (For the record I am ok with waiting!)
After realizing the importance of the lesson for Little Monica and that this was somehow reflective on my mother's parenting of me, and knowing I was made of tougher stuff, I knew what the right answer was. I was going to have to clean up the icky mouse myself and look like a brave, strong woman doing it. Yeah.
So I made Little Monica get me some rubber gloves from the toy doctor kit and hold the bag open for me to put the mouse carcass in. I proceeded to find the grill tongs, now largely labeled "MOUSE TONGS" on one side and "NOT FOR FOOD" on the other. I was not touching that mouse or mouse trap. No way. I pulled my hair back, put on the itty bitty rubber gloves all the while wishing I had a clean suit (you know, full body suit with helmet and a clear, little square to look out of), covered my face with a paper towel and reached into the cupboard with the long arm of the tong and picked up the mousetrap with mouse attached and gently placed it in the bag my daughter was holding open. We then put it into a larger garage bag, and put it outside in the garbage. After allowing Little M to put the mouse carcass into the garbage, she came back in the house and proudly said
"We sure took care of that Mom! Girls Rule!"
Not sure who learned the bigger lesson today. Probably me.

This Is It?

2010-02-03T11:13:00.005-06:00

Lately we've been in negotiations regarding our future. I've been stressed, my Beloved has been stressed, every conversation has been regarding the upcoming months and what the best decision is for our family. While both of our families have weighed in, ultimately the decision is up to us. The past 5 years have been so many changes, in no particular order; a cross country move, then back, a new baby, new jobs, a period of unemployment, the loss of a dear grandparent, discovering our sweet Norah is hard of hearing, a rental home or two, and the lowest point our marriage has ever experienced, and the recovery from that.
Finally we are leveling off, we are reaching a point where we are feeling comfortable, and dare I say, settled. It's a new place for me and while some days I love it, other days I look around and think "This Is It?" I wonder is this what all the fuss is about? Is everyone else having a meaningful life, making daily contributions to the world, and the highlight of my day is a perfect spelling test? Truly, is this it?
Don't get me wrong, I adore my children, think my Beloved was a pretty great catch, but now as we close in on the purchase of a home that we hope to live in for the next ten years and beyond, I find myself thinking about the next step. In your ordinary checklist of life, if there is one, I am struggling to figure out what the next thing to work towards will be.
I know there are thousands of books, websites, refrigerator magnets, pod casts, etc. encouraging me to live the simple life, and enjoy the small things, and most days I do. OK, some days I do, but on the other days, like today, I look at the toys Baby Henry has scattered around, or the kitchen needing cleaning, the to do list that can be done tomorrow and think, "Wow, is this boring."
These may sound like and may be the lonely ramblings of a stay at home mom in a snowstorm deep in the heart of the Midwest in February, and you may suggest taking a vacation (please send money), seeing a counselor (please provide childcare for appointments), or even anti-depressants (no thanks), but those are things I've considered and discarded, because this is my life, good or bad, this is it. Tomorrow will be a better day or at least different, and I think I might try a Vitamin D supplement.

Old Boyfriends

2010-01-29T12:38:00.006-06:00

So lately I've been thinking about old boyfriends. As I am a frequent user of Facebook, the idea of getting a look into the lives of those who might have been is just too tempting for this gal! Thus I have become friends with a few (OK, more than a few) old boyfriends.
My definition of boyfriends is pretty loose, pretty much defined as any one I have kissed (and I really just mean kissed) in a non-platonic way more than once in my 31 years. Considering I've only been kissing my Beloved since October 31, 1998, let's just say a few of these former flames have sent me friend requests, and I'll admit, I've searched and friended a few. My curiosity overwhelms me and I just have to know! What do they look like? What kind of jobs do they have? Do they still love the Beastie Boys? Are they bald? Fat? Into NASCAR? Did they marry ugly women? Did their kids inherit their short, stubby fingers and small, squinty eyes?
After having my curiosity quenched I inevitably feel thankful. You read that correctly, thankful. Different qualities from all these previous heartaches (whether mine or theirs) have been thread into the quilt that is who I am. More impressed upon my memories is the likes and dislikes I learned about myself through these relationships. Knowing and unknowing these old boyfriends brought me to the day I met my husband and all the days ever since.
Because of these old boyfriends, I can watch my child play soccer with some expertise, after 2 semesters dating a soccer player, a girl learns a thing or two about the game. I know and love theatre to this day because of some ill-fated forays into dating theatre majors. I would have never learned to Rollerblade or that I really don't like rollerblading had I not fibbed about my rollerblading prowess with a handsome allergy prone fella in high school. The smell of hockey still brings me back to the hot, hairy Italian from my freshman year in college. Sports expertise, theatre knowledge, even some brief kisses from some Ivy Leaguers, don't compare to the first and subsequent kisses from my Beloved.
So yes, I'm thankful for the tears shed, anger felt, cassette tapes recorded in memory of, all the different personality traits I was able to try on throughout the years because the one that fit me best was a hunky football star with a penchant for the country music and I couldn't be happier. Most days.

Drastic Measures

2010-01-27T10:09:00.005-06:00

I am about to do something drastic. I'm not sure what, but I have begun making grand statements to my Beloved and contemplating even more impossible things in my own mind. Fortunately for both he and I, I do not have the funding available at this time, nor do I have a very focused idea what drastic measures I am going to take.

Some of my thoughts have been, in no particular order:

- I'm going to take the GRE
- I am going to dye my hair
- I think I should go on a week long retreat at someplace that has a vow of silence
- I might look cute if I got my nose pierced
- I should run for a city office
- It might be fun to be on a game show
- I am going to go to law school, in which case I should take the LSAT, not the GRE
- I am going to take the LSAT
- I've always wanted to learn to knit
- I've always thought being a dental hygienist would be neat, and I bet I could get my teeth all capped at a serious discount

When I have shared some of these with my Beloved he does something so irritating I genuinely want to punch him in the nose. He is supportive, sweet, and understanding. He begins telling me things like, "You should go to grad school honey! The GRE is a great idea." or "You have some definite leadership skills, what kind of city office?" Sometimes he proceeds to talk about costs and ways we could pay for tuition, or really practical things, like "If you went on a retreat I'm sure we could figure out something with the kids, if you want to do it, we'll figure it out!" Who is this guy?

For some reason his support and love regarding my crazy fantasies really takes the wind out of my sails and I get ticked off. At some point, usually after his offer to make a spreadsheet or do a cost/benefit analysis of going back to school I walk away and decide to do nothing.

I choose to stay home, with some serious gray hair sticking out, I don't go on a retreat and take a vow of silence, I don't audition for a game show, I don't get my nose pierced, I don't even make an effort to learn to knit and the worst part is that it's my own lack of inertia that keeps me fantasizing about these things, not doing them. It's certainly not for lack of support.

So I'm not going to do something drastic I guess, at least not today.

That's It!

2010-01-20T10:39:00.003-06:00

When I was in high school the school began requiring notes from the doctor or dentist when a student was going to be out of school for an appointment. I would never describe my mom as someone who is a rule breaker, but the idea that the school didn't trust a note from her, and required documentation from a doctor really ticked her off. I recall a note she wrote to the school saying I would be leaving school midday for a dental appointment and the note went something like this:

"Sheridan will be leaving school at 11am today for a dental appointment and THAT'S IT!"

At the time I thought little of it, but somehow the "THAT'S IT!" part of the note really strikes a chord with me today. It's a simple way to say, I don't want your opinion on the topic, I have made the final ruling, there will be no further discussion.

Dinner tonight is chicken pot pie, and THAT'S IT!
If your laundry isn't in the laundry basket it won't get washed, THAT'S IT!
Bedtime is 7:30, THAT'S IT!
No, I don't feel like cuddling tonight and THAT'S IT!
Yes, you need to pick up (insert child name) from (insert activity) and THAT'S IT!

Today I used these magical word when calling our health insurance company regarding hearing aid coverage for children, which no one seems to know about. When the nice lady offered to look into it and "get back to me real soon," I responded sweetly "That would be great, I expect to hear from you today though, and THAT'S IT!" It worked, she called me back 30 minutes later with loads of information. I firmly believe my "THAT'S IT!" made all the difference.

I recommend you practice different tones when you say these power packed words, play a little with volume and force and even tone, and be careful not to abuse them thus diminishing their effectiveness.

If you have some "magic" words that work for you, post comments and tell me what they are.

Neglectful blogger

2010-01-07T21:01:00.004-06:00

It was a long December and there is reason to believe this year will be better than the last. (Can you name the song?) I have made only one serious New Year's resolution. Here it is:

If I have an instinct to bury my head or hide in my bedroom, or just stay locked in my house, I will turn my back on that feeling and walk forward, head up, shoulder's back into whatever I am socially avoiding.

I also wanted to share something my college roommate, Lisa, gave me my sophomore year in college. The year I fell into my first deep depression. It is not something of great monetary value and I don't know what her motivation was in cutting out an Ann Landers column from the newspaper. I did NOT see the wisdom or guidance in it then, but now I refer back to this yellowed, corner worn scrap of newspaper cut in Lisa's precise teacher's hand. It has moved many times since she gave it to me, from Winona, to St. Paul, our 1st home in Waseca, our 2nd home in Waseca, Maine, back to Waseca, Stillwater, and now to Roseville. I look at it almost everyday, I thought you might want to read it too.

The following letter was written in Ann Landers column, I don't know the original publication date.

DEAR READERS:If some lines in today's column sound vaguely familiar, you have a good memory. They appeared in this space last year. Not much about New Year's Day has changed, so thank you for allowing me to loaf a little.

Let this coming year be better than all the others. Vow to do some of the things you've always wanted to do but couldn't find the time.

Call up a forgotten friend. Drop an old grudge, and replace it with some pleasant memories. Share a funny story with someone whose spirits are dragging. A good laugh can be very good medicine.

Vow not to make a promise you don't think you can keep. Pay a debt. Give a soft answer. Free yourself of envy and malice. Encourage some youth to do his or her best. Share your experiences and offer support. Young people need role models.

Make a genuine effort to stay in closer touch with family and good friends. Resolve to stop magnifying small problems and shooting from the lip. Words you have to eat can be hard to digest.

Find time to be kind and thoughtful. All of us have the same allotment: 24 hours a day. Give a compliment. It might give someone a badly needed lift.

Think things through. Forgive an injustice. Listen more. Be kind.

Apologize when you realize you are wrong. An apology never diminishes a person. It elevates him. Don't blow your own horn. If you've done something praiseworthy, someone will notice eventually.

Try to understand a point of view that is different from your own. Few things are 100 percent one way or another. Examine the demands you make on others.

Lighten up. When you feel like blowing your top, ask yourself, "Will it matter a week from today?" Laugh the loudest when the joke is on you.

The sure way to have a friend is to be one. We are all connected by our humanity, and we need each other. Avoid malcontents and pessimists. They drag you down and contribute nothing.

Don't discourage a beginner from trying something risky. Nothing ventured means nothing gained. Be optimistic. The can-do spirit is the fuel that makes things go.

Go to war against animosity and complacency. Express your gratitude. Give credit when it's due -- and even when it isn't. It will make you look good.

Read something uplifting. Deep-six the trash. You wouldn't eat garbage. Why put it in your head? Don't abandon your old-fashioned principles. They never go out of style. When courage is needed, ask yourself, "If not me, who? If not now, when?"

Take better care of yourself. Pass up that second helping. You really don't need it. Vow to eat more sensibly. You'll feel better and look better, too. And you'll weigh less, and wouldn't that be nice?

Don't put up with secondhand smoke. Nobody has the right to pollute your air or give you cancer. If someone says, "This is a free country," remind him or her that the country may be free, but no person is free if he has a habit he can't control.

Return those books you borrowed. Reschedule that missed dental appointment. Clean out your closet. Take those photos out of the drawer, and put them in an album. If you see litter on the sidewalk, pick it up instead of walking over it.

Give yourself a reality check. Phoniness is transparent and tiresome. Take pleasure in the beauty and the wonders of nature. A flower is God's miracle.

Hope you see the beauty and wisdom in it like I do, everyday. Thank you dear roomie.

Chicken Nuggets

2009-12-09T20:36:00.003-06:00

We joined the YMCA. When making the decision to join I expected some transformation, some self-discovery, some sweat, some tears, but I didn't expect so many results so soon.
My primary discovery has been that I am neurotic and paranoid. The idea of exercising in a gym atmosphere with other people around makes me giggle, act immature, and pretty much make a dope of myself...big bonus, we're coughing up almost $100. a month for the aforementioned moronic behavior on my part. Last night Rory and I went together, working out will bring us closer together, and I hoped maybe make Rory so tired he'd go to bed at a normal time (didn't happen).
We got to the Y, dropped off the kids, which is where the tears come in, you'd swear Baby Henry has serious abandonment issues whenever I leave him.
Then we went to our separate locker rooms, everyone in the locker room acts like they know what they are doing. People shower, change, brush their teeth, I even saw a woman blow drying her hair, it was 6:30pm, WHY?
I felt like I needed to do something while I was participating in the locker room portion of our adventure, so I put my stuff away, went to the bathroom, washed my hands for a looooong time, then I checked my Facebook profile on my phone, checked the lock on my locker again, weighed myself, tied my shoes, checked the steps on my pedometer and went to wait for Rory...where was he? What could you possible do in a locker room to get ready for working out? I was in the locker room for almost 5 minutes and I read every sign in there!
Finally I just went to the "Fitness Area." Hopped up on a treadmill and felt totally overwhelmed, all the buttons, should I do a "Fit Test?" While I was debating the merits of the Rolling Hill setting vs. Interval training Rory came up behind me, I was somewhat taken by surprise, and for some reason yelled at the volume of someone who had been approached by a knife-wielding serial killer, and that's just the beginning.
Now that everyone was looking at me, Rory suggested we go lift weights and work on our arms. This is where I should tell you, I've worked out before, I've been to a weight room, just not at my current shape and size. Let me tell you, size matters. We started out at some machine and I put the weight peg thingy in the hole by 50lbs. I can lift that...wrong! I couldn't even move it and I looked in the mirror and my face looked funny trying to move it, so I started laughing and then I started commenting about the lack of mirrors at McDonald's and how much safer I feel there. Still no smile from Rory. I was really making some good comments, I was rolling!
I did the sets required of me by my very serious looking husband and we moved on to the next machine, then I started noticing the people standing around "pretending" to be stretching. I say "pretending" because I know they were really staring at me and mentally commenting on my ineptitude on the machines and general out of shape-ness. I could see the scorn in their faces. OK, really I couldn't but I was feeling really UNCUTE in those mirrors and maybe it was the scorn in my own face, I don't know, I remember in college I really liked those mirrors, seeing how my different muscles flexed. Now I would be happy if I could wear a snowsuit in the gym, or at least a long scarf to cover my mid-section.
We moved on to the bench. At first I thought he was joking. I laughed, too loud, made some comment about it being a breeding ground for bacteria. Still nothing, usually he finds me very funny, what is his problem? So I attempt to lay down, I say attempt because in laying down I misjudged where the actual bar was and hit the back of my head on it, but I totally meant to do that. I think my hair absorbed most of the blood. When I finally was able to lay on the bench I had to scoot my body down because my head was hanging off, then my shirt started creeping up and I couldn't stop laughing. I thought Rory was going to kill me, don't worry though, it got worse. I couldn't lift the bar. The bar with no weights, I couldn't lift it, when I finally did my arms were shaking and I was worried I was going to drop it on my face so I closed my eyes, and Rory took the bar away from me. He then handed me something called the Body Bar, which is a little bar for wienies. So then I started saying stupid things like "Look at me with the wienie bar." Rory was still not amused.
At last I was allowed to go back to the safe treadmill, and the only one available was next to a pretty foxy college girl who had on WAY too much perfume. I got on the treadmill and just pushed a bunch of buttons, because I didn't want her to think I was a total idiot, then the treadmill began going really fast and I had to run, and I couldn't see the stop button. Eventually I was flung off and the college gal took out her ear bud and said "Are you OK?" and I was about to say something like "Someday, you too will have your body ravaged by 3 pregnancies with no time to work out and a McDonald's right by your kids school. So enjoy hot and skinny while it lasts Sister!"
Instead I said "I'm totally OK, I meant to do that." Thus confirming to her that I was a total idiot.

Chicken and Rice

2009-12-07T10:57:00.005-06:00

I'm pretty secure in my marriage. Lately we've been having some problems though. Are you ready for some juicy insight into the secret that plagues our marriage? Here goes.
Rory has a habit, a terrible habit that is causing me to lose sleep at night. You see, Rory rarely goes to bed before midnight, sometimes he stays up past one, even until 2am. When we were just married this didn't bother me, I could just as easily stay up and read a book, take a bath, do laundry, many times we stayed awake til the wee hours of the morning just talking. Now, 3 kids later, it's taking it's toll and I don't know how to change course.
When we married we vowed to go to bed together every night if possible. While I was growing up my mom always went to bed early, and alone. So unromantic. My marriage would be different.
The worst part about this habit is that I don't know how to break it, it isn't as though he is forcing me to stay awake, he's more subversive than that. Sometimes it's cleaning the house, or proofreading one of his Master's papers, could be budget committee meetings, or packing the kids lunches...but every night the clock creeps to midnight and beyond and I'm awake in the company of my beloved.
I've tried a lot of different tactics too, promises of "cuddling," offers to let him watch TV in bed, promises he can pick whatever History Channel show he wants. Sometimes he agrees and comes to bed, then we end up talking and planning for our future, or Christmas or summer vacation, I've even stayed up late talking about whether or not Charlie Weis (Notre Dame EX-football coach) should get fired (he did), or if Notre Dame should go to a bowl game or not, and how 'bout them Chicago Bears? We've burned the midnight oil over their poor performance too.
Our kids are in bed and sleeping, regularly by 7:30pm. I could go to bed right then, but never do, every night I am hopeful that that will be the night I am sound asleep by 10:30. Somehow the promise of interesting conversation with a man I adore is too great for me, and I head downstairs for hours of interesting conversation, proofreading papers on health care policy,(BORING!) housecleaning, History Channel or football strategy talk, and he never disappoints, so I guess the hours of beauty sleep I am missing are worth it, if only we could get paid for our late night football analysis.

So dear readers, please answer these questions for me:

When do you go to bed at night?
Do you go to bed at the same time as your spouse?
Do you feel that going to be together is important?

Fridge Finds

2009-12-02T15:42:00.002-06:00

When I was in high school I wrote a column that some of you may remember called "Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup." I was always really proud of that column. I also was editor of the opinion pages, and on the one of the pages we had a sidebar called "Yeas or Nays."
Lately I've suffered a bit of writer's block when it comes to blogging, so I'm going to try the "Yeas or Nay's" today.

Yeas

Yea to Costco, I love that store.
Yea to have a completed road in front of my house, summer road construction was the pits.
Yea to my husband for kicking butt and taking names on his Master's work this week.
Yea to eyelash curlers, they change my look so dramatically. IMO.
Yea to Facebook, sometimes the mindlessness of it is just what I need.
Yea to those people from MN whose wedding reception was copied on The Office. Their site has raised more than $15,000 for the Sheila Wellstone Institute. If you haven't seen it you really need to get with it, here is is: http://www.jkweddingdance.com/
Yea to teaching kids about nutrition. Today when I opened a can of Diet Coke my 4 year old told me "Wow, that's really not healthy food Mom. You should have milk, like me."
Yea for Diet Coke, you complete me.

Nays

Nay to all the headlines being bad news on www.kare11.com.
Nay to going into debt for holiday shopping. Uncool.
Nay to my empty fridge, and no grocery shopping until Friday. How is it our food only lasts 12 days, never 14?
Nay to the complaints from my 7 year old that our milk tastes kind of "carton-y." Who are these kids?
Nay to dishes that don't get clean in the dishwasher.
Nay to toothpaste globs in the sink.
Nay to library fines. When I was a kid you could pay library fines with can goods. What happened to that?

Now it's your turn. Tell me what you're happy about. Or give me one or two sentences of crabbiness. You deserve it.

French Onion Soup

2009-11-24T13:53:00.003-06:00

With the biggest days of holiday shopping upon us, when all of our weekends are filled with not only shopping but pageants, family celebrations, decorating and all the hoopla that comes with it I find myself coming up short on the holiday spirit. Don't get me wrong, I love the upcoming season, I am married to someone that might just be related to the mighty elf, the man loves Christmas so much.
This year though, I find I am overwhelmed by the disparity between news reports of where the best sales are and the hottest toys and other reports on how poorly the economy is doing, how needy the food shelves are, the overflowing homeless shelters, and tremendous shortages all charities are experiencing. What can I do? How can I help? Are there opportunities out there for me to get involved and find a way that I can share the message of giving and sharing with our children. At 7 years old I know Monica understands that other kids aren't going to have Christmas holiday's like we do. I think Norah, at 4 knows that some kids don't have coats or mittens.
I saw an open invite from an old friend of mine on Facebook the other day, and was so impressed and moved by her efforts I got teary eyed. She is hosting a day for people to get together and make mittens to donate to Catholic Charities. No experience needed! Last year they made over 165 mittens. What an impact! I couldn't help but wonder what impact she is having on her own children in teaching them to share their own gifts. Even more she was using social networking to do good! Hooray!
So I'm going, with my lack of mitten making experience, and I am going to take my daughters, and we are going to try our hands (punny, right?) at mitten making.
Beyond that I am open to suggestions for family-friendly ways to give and share for the next weeks and beyond. I have a feeling that is a sure way to restore my waning Christmas spirit, and keep me off the naughty list.

Leftovers #2

2009-11-19T23:49:00.003-06:00

Today the Wal-Mart Black Friday ad was released, leaked, whatever you want to call it. If you want to see all the ads available for Black Friday check out: http://http://blackfriday.gottadeal.com/index.php.
I have discovered that one of the primary items we purchased for our 7-year-old will be almost $40 cheaper on Black Friday. After having the pleasure of being the opening manager on duty for a Target store for 2 years, I have no desire to be up before sunrise, but for $40, I think I just might.
Our goal this year is to due the bulk of our shopping online, or buying locally (i.e. people we know that have a knack for crafts). Rory designed a spreadsheet for me to punch in the gift idea, budgeted cost, actual cost, and variance and our whole Christmas holiday budget is right there in front of me. Which lets me know that we are over budget on child #1, right on for child #2, and child #3 is trailing pretty far behind. We're hoping to keep this spreadsheet for budgeting purposes for next year and break down our total amount spent by month and then by paycheck, so next Christmas will be even easier.
If you would like a copy of the template I would be glad to share it with you. Email me at malloyfamily@hotmail.com if you want your very own.
I do a fair amount of comparison shopping as well, here is a list of the comparison shops I use most:
www.pricegrabber.com (This one shows price history, which is a nice feature)
www.shopzilla.com
www.nextag.com
My all time, most used website for all online shopping is www.ebates.com, if you say you were referred by me we both get cash (just enter my email from above). Ebates offers a percentage of cash back from most stores you've heard of and many that you may have not. They send a check quarterly, so in mid-January you get a check in the mail. One year I received a check for over $150! They also advertise coupons and shipping deals. Totally worth it. There are some sites like www.upromise.com that do the same thing and the money goes into a savings account for your kid, but I prefer to get the cash back now.

I just had to share all these websites with you because there is NO reason you should ever pay full price for something, especially in this economy.

Hope some of this saves you a little cash this holiday season.

Corn Dogs

2009-11-18T10:02:00.004-06:00

Marriage is cyclical. Sometimes I am amazed (as I have been the past few weeks) with the wonderful, intelligent, handsome, thoughtful, sexy man I married. This week, not so much.
This is a belief I have held for many years. There are moments that the pure joy of being married to this wonderful creature brings me to tears, just not today, or yesterday, or the day before. Tonight he is working late, and I sort of wish he would just stay gone for a day or two. It would be nice to have the opportunity to appreciate him a little bit.
I am not angry with him, he has done nothing different this week than in past weeks, he is still his usual hard-working self, and no it's not "that time of the month." For awhile I just attributed it to the barometric pressure, or some other strange phenomena, but today I've come to the conclusion it's about space. Sometimes a person just needs their own space. I don't know if this is just female thing either, I would imagine men feel that way too, I don't know. When I talk to my husband about these feelings of disconnectedness he maintains he always loves me with all his heart (Gag!)
So to my devoted Rory, I love you, but sometimes your constant back-scratching needs, bed hogging, snooze button punching, cologne overdosing self isn't always a turn on, but most of the time it is.

Papa Murphy's Pizza

2009-11-11T18:11:00.007-06:00

I tried something new today. I went to a Mom's Club at our new church. I was nervous, I was apprehensive, I was actually about to chicken out and not go. All these thoughts came rushing through my head...I don't know anyone there. I won't like anyone there. Worse, they won't like me. They will all be these put together women with well-behaved put together kids. I shouldn't go, I have a zit on my chin, I need a haircut, Baby Henry has a runny nose.

Really, all that was going through my head. Then my beloved husband called and said "You're going to that Mom's Club thing right? Or are you going to come up with some reason you can't go?" I began to tell him about the copious amounts of snot running from Henry's nose, people would surely think he was infectious and run from us. Silence. Beloved Husband wasn't buying it, moreover I was realizing I sounded a little lame.

The clock was ticking, we couldn't make it in time...more crazy thoughts...I wouldn't want to walk in late my first day. Not to mention our church is connected to a school, so I probably wouldn't be able to get in and they would think I was a kidnapper or something trying to break into the school, then the police would come, and then Beloved Husband would be called at work because I was arrested for breaking into a school and who would pick up my kids at school?

After all of that, I went. Everyone was really nice and welcoming. The speaker there today was from the Salvation Army and talked about all the amazing works they do in the Twin Cities and the United States. I was impressed and educated all at the same time.

Sure, Baby Henry of the Booger Brigade couldn't hack it in the nursery and had to come and sit with me in the Mom's Club meeting, and he proceeded to be booger-nosed and adorable all at the same time.

I was OK, I made it through. I met some really nice women whose names I couldn't remember if my life depended on it. I think I might go back. Baby Henry needs to build up a tolerance to the nursery. I'll do it for him.

Isn't it funny how when you need it most God sends the exact message you need to hear? Sure I'd appreciate it if he emailed me these messages instead of forcing me to live them real world, but today's message from God was about community and gratitude. There are women, just like me, who probably have crazy, italicized thoughts and they are waiting to meet me and I can't wait to get to know them better, maybe next time they can wear name tags! That was the community lesson.

The greater lesson today was that my worries were about whether or not to go to a Mom's Club, I wasn't thinking about how I was going to come up with food or a place to sleep for my children tonight. I wasn't cold or hungry today. After listening to the speaker from the Salvation Army I realized the blessings I have that so many people don't. I realized that my little drama's are nothing when you step back and look at the big picture. Tonight, I go to bed with a grateful heart, and tomorrow I am going to think a little more about what I can do to help out other mothers who don't have the gifts I so take for granted.

So thank you dear readers, for listening. I'm thankful for you too.

Check this out as well for more Salvation Army info: http://www.kare11.com/news/news_article.aspx?storyid=828229&catid=391&GID=/hntWZrWag1UwZQOWQ1Mcm0T2cLN2J4ZWGf8HpgHpu4%3D

Salsa Joe's

2009-11-10T11:07:00.004-06:00

When reflecting on the past year of my life I've realized that ears have been a primary theme. Yes, ears. Some of you may know that after a very difficult and traumatic birth and a few years of thinking everything was AOK we found out our middle daughter, Norah, was hard of hearing. What a journey this has been and a loud one at that!

I should mention that she did pass her newborn screening, but has had hearing loss since birth, so while the newborn screening has been very beneficial for some, it isn't perfect, so when it comes to your babies, trust your gut.

In the past year I have spent a lot of time crying, feeling guilty, sad, angry and sometimes downright furious that my child has to wear two hearing aids that are an outward sign of imperfection.

In this society, no matter how evolved with think we are, people notice things like hearing aids. At first I struggled when Norah wanted to wear her hair in ponytails, or buns, and then I realized I was putting my hang-ups on her. Norah wears little golden hearing aids (the part behind her ear) with purple sparkly earmolds (the part that goes in her ear). We also found something great called Tuberiders to help her accessorize even more. She wears her hair up most days because she is very proud of her hearing aids and likes to show them off. While Norah attends an oral school called Northern Voices for deaf and hard of hearing kids, she has recently began attending an early childhood class to help ease her transition to kindergarten next year and I am happy to report several of the children want hearing aids like Norah's!

This past year we have seen more happiness and successes than I ever imagined, and all of our children are developing a tolerance for diversity that I never could have taught them. My husband and I are developing a gratitude and understanding for those that have gone before us to advocate for their children. We are working to advocate for Norah everyday and make the needed changes to our daily lifestyles to accomodate her needs, sometimes small things like a little book light in the car so she can talk to her sister on dark car rides with the assistance of lip reading. I repeat myself a lot for Norah, as we all do, and when we listen to music we really turn it up. We don't have the TV all the time at home, because that causes a distraction for her.

Most of all we've learned to listen. Listen to Norah when she talks, because her language has seen a major explosion this past year, listen to our older daughter when she talks about her day and realize that being Norah's older sister is no easy task, and listen to our little Henry when he points to his ears and says "hearin' aids" and then we all have a laugh. How many 21 month olds can say that?

I will leave you with a list of some famous folks with hearing loss that wear hearing aids.

How many surprise you?

Ronald Reagan
Bill Clinton
Lou Ferrigno - The Incredible Hulk
Ludwig van Beethoven
Rush Limbaugh (has a cochlear implant)
Arnold Palmer
Thomas Edison
Mike Singletary - Go Bears!
Leslie Nielsen
Al Unser - Race Car Driver
Bobby Unser - Race Car Driver
Huey Lewis
Juliette Low - Founder of Girl Scouts

Leftovers

2009-11-04T15:37:00.003-06:00

Today is our 9th wedding anniversary. While I have spent a large portion of my day thinking about my hard-working honey and our blissful 9+ years together, I have also been thinking about an important person missing from my life.
I was 11 years old when my Grandma Rita had a heart attack and died. She was just 56 years old and heart disease was known about but certainly not as marketed as well as it is these days. Some days I find myself wishing she would have been able to meet my husband, I know in my heart they would have been kindred spirits. I wonder what parenting advice she would have given me, and I think that she would have helped my mom relax a little more, but truly I don't know.
The Grandma Rita I remember is from a child's perspective. I know she was a woman who raised her kids in the tumultuous times of the 60's and 70's, and she certainly didn't have the marriage I do today. She gave birth to 7 children within 9 or so years and as far as I know she never had a nervous breakdown. She had a huge house to keep clean and didn't have McDonald's or Domino's to deliver dinner, and she didn't have the luxury of a dishwasher to clean up all those dishes.
Despite not having the things that I so take for granted, my memories of her and her sunny disposition are amazing. She let me wear lipstick, she never left the house without a little dab or two, and she always had a pie ready to eat on the table and cookies in an ice cream pail on top of the fridge. She was always ready with a hug, and would let me play beauty salon with her for hours, never complaining, I wonder how many times she realized she had a curler stuck in the back of her hair long after I'd gone home.
So 20 years after my Grandma Rita's too soon death, I am thinking of her, imagining how much she would love my children and my hilarious husband. Wondering if she'd be the kind of Grandma that had a cell phone or email. Wondering what advice she would give me about my children, or if she would make them pajamas with nightcaps for Christmas like the girls on Little House on the Prairie (her favorite TV show, after Cheers). I wonder how different my mom would be, if she hadn't lost her mother so near the age I am now.
After all that wondering, here is what I do know, I know that even 20 years after she last hugged me, I feel her arms around me in every move I make. I know that she would be proud of the woman I am today, her legacy lives on in me, a strong woman with a great sense of humor. I also know I need to take better care of my heart and body so I don't take after her with an early death and that I should try to wear more lipstick.

Baked Chicken

2009-11-02T11:38:00.002-06:00

I am a stay-at-home mom. Many of you know that, but in case you didn't I wanted to give you some context for what is to come.
I just fed my son lunch, and laid him down for a nap. Contrary to what many of you think I am not going to go sit on the couch to watch soap operas and eat bon-bons. I have allotted some time on the computer this afternoon to price compare Christmas gifts and hopefully get a jump on that. I am also going to finish the laundry I've been working on all day, clean the kitchen. call about a medical bill that is messed up, then go pick up my middle daughter bring her home and wait for the bus to drop off my older daughter. Then it's on to homework, catechism, make some dinner, serve some dinner, take my middle daughter to dance and on and on and on. Somewhere in here my husband will come home which can be both a help and a hindrance.
What bothers me is the lack of respect I sometimes feel from people that assume this job is easy or even a job that I want. Yes, I said it. I am envious most days when my husband showers, and leaves for work. I miss the days when I worked a full-time job and had the luxury of going to the bathroom without company. I sometimes went shopping on my lunch period, sometimes I even ate lunch.
The choice for me to stay home was a financial one, because when we really did the math and looked at our finances, taking into account taxes, childcare, and commute time I was making about $18 a day and we were arguing all the time about the lack of time, or about who had the more important job and would stay home with the kids if they were sick. It was ridiculous.
We aren't rich, and I certainly do not have the temperament of a preschool teacher, but we do love our kids and knew that something had to change. So now I'm a stay at home mom. I don't dress as nicely as I used too. I wear a lot of the sweatshirts I wore in college (free advertising for St. Mary's University's quality sweatshirts!) We don't eat out very much, and my kids don't have the latest toys or clothes I purchased out of guilt. I am learning lessons of patience every day, my husband is having incredible successes at his job, and while I'm not the best mom, I'm working on it.
Please remember though, while you may have a more recent haircut than I, or you think I need a job for my self-esteem, or that I may be too consumed by my kids and their activities, I chose this, and I would choose it again.
Everybody complains about their job, and everybody wants a raise, but not everybody has their employees in the bathroom with them.