I will admit I have eatin a bowl of ice cream while standing in my closet. Why, you might ask? Because there wasn't a place to sit with out a hanger going into places I would preferably like to keep un-proded. Again you might ask why. Why was I hiding in my closet like a psycho? Because my kids have driven me to it. For one- I just didn't feel like sharing, and for two- I get just a little tired of the guilt that has wrapped itself around me since I peed on that life altering stick so many years ago.
Frankly I am fed up to my eyeballs with this shitty constant nagging parental conscience that follows me around day and night. I would really like to find Jimney right about now and introduce him to the bottom of my husbands work boots. I love Pinterest, don't get me wrong, but I get so sick of the high expectations I put on myself just because these bastards know how to use the right camera angle to make life look so damn simple and carefree. I hate that my fun hobby has that double edge sword thing going on. But I have always heard you live by the sword you die by the sword.
The thing is, I have found a turning point in all this. Or just a point of some kind. We had recently started visiting an adorable church with a little white chapel here in town. We ended up choosing this church because I had become acquainted with the pastor and his sweet family. I really liked how down to earth they were and I knew others from around town who also attended church there. So after we visited the church -stay with me there really is a point- the pastor's wife and I became friends on Facebook. Now I had always known she was a pastor's wife, so anytime our paths crossed I was sure to warn the hubby and beg the kids to behave. For instance at Miss Priss' slumber party I repeatedly reminded the hubby that in attendance was a preacher's daughter and the daughter of one who works closely with the CPS (That was one stressful night!). So after we became friends on FB I was sure to watch what I said. Then one glorious night she messages me telling me about how she was reading some of my earlier posts and she came across my closet ice-cream adventure. Here's the best part- she loved it! She could relate. She actually had a few stories of her own that made me feel like the clouds opened up and God just smiled down. I mean if she had her own trials of parenthood- and she being a pastor's wife should somehow be bestowed with more virtues that are hardly attainable to us mere mortals- then by God we are all doomed. And by that I mean, dammit it's normal. I'm normal. And for the time being, I am going to embrace these idiosyncrasies. And I'm going to share them with you so you can realize that you're normal too. Or just as crazy as me. Or maybe I really am destined for the looney bin.
So for one, I have long ago stopped shutting the door when I use the restroom or shower. It has been eight years in the making, but it is a habit that I may never be able to break. I either am not allowed this silly little thing called privacy (the wiggly fingers under the door are my subtle reminders), or I have three-kids-ago lost any control over my bladder.There is no time for swinging that door shut and unzipping my pants. Something has to give. I choose my battles wisely. As for the shower it starts out with the ipad full of movies, games, even learning apps that allow him to draw shapes and letters. Only to end up with me having to draw said shapes and letters on the foggy glass as the only way to keep him from coming in to draw it himself. Once again, its all a matter of picking your battles.
I have more than once hidden or rushed to eat a sweet to keep it hidden from the kids. I'm not even sure I can count the times on my fingers. There are a few reason's for this. One is that I'm not sure I'm ready to explain the whole double standards thing yet. I try my best to be sure they maintain a well balanced diet. Well- okay, so I at least try to be sure there is one fruit or veggie in with their chocolate(nutella) sandwiches. Two, the guilt I get when I deny them makes me feel like I just ran over their brand new puppy or something. Then there's the other guilt. The kind that stings just a little too close to home when they say "How come you get to eat one and we don't". My initial response is "Because I am a grown ass woman and if I want to eat a whole box of Twinkies, well then I damn well will!" Only it comes out as "Because I can." Then I look down and notice a few crumbs that have landed so delicately on my fat rolls and snatch them up quickly if only to savor the last remaining morsels. Guilt- it's what's for dinner.
I cuss. I think maybe in one of my past lives I may have been a sailor. I'm not sure, I'm still mulling that one around. The worst part is I cuss at my kids. But to me they are only sentence enhancers. I mean how do they know to take me really serious with out them? I have actually made this into a science experiment. This is how it began, "Your shoes don't belong there, they need to go in your closet." Apparently they think those are magic words, which magically make the shoes walk themselves into their closet. Then it became "Go put your shoes in your closet." Still there they sat right in the middle of the floor. And finally "Go take your damn shoes to your closet before I throw them in the damn trash!" Wanna guess the result? Yep, the shoes lived to see another day. So here I have to wonder, is it really that bad when it gets the job done, and we can all still hug it out in the end?
I have fed my kids Chef-Boy-R-Dee multiple times in one week. I have eatin out five out of seven nights some weeks. But they never go hungry right? Ours is a rather small town and fast food is limited, but well I'm tired dammit. I will one day find a whole crockpot load full of make ahead recipes and be so organized Martha Stewart would be impressed, but until then some nights ramen noodles will have to do.
I have let my toddler nap in a stinky pull-up. Shit happens right?! Sometimes you know they are stinky, but you are knee deep in something and it can wait two minutes. Only, that toddler who has been running and bouncing nonstop for the last six hours has hit some sort of hidden snooze button and fallen asleep face down in a big pile of toys and possibly a truck halfway up his nose. But let me tell you my friend- DO NOT TOUCH HIM! I know you are thinking how horrible I am, but I would much rather deal with a little extra baby powder than a mini version of a tired, cranky and now stinky man. You know what I'm talking about ladies.
I threaten my kids with death. My mother used to have a favorite saying, "I brought you into this world and I can take you right back out." This is not what I mean. I am a cautious person by nature. Ironically I think it has only developed since I have had kids. I want my kids to be cautious too. I don't just tell them not to talk to strangers. I tell them all the scenarios a stranger can try to entice a child and then warn them what will happen if they get snatched. I tell them if they leave our front door with out us knowing they could be killed by a car or a stranger can get them. I tell them they can die in the pool, or even the bubble bath they dearly love. I show them who to go to incase they get lost at the store, or the fair. My kids have long had their address memorized if they need to tell a police officer. But I also use it to my advantage. I go to kiss them goodnight only to step on some stupid pointy toy and start that cussin all over again. Then I tell them if our house were to catch on fire, they would die because they couldn't get out with all these toys on the floor. It works. The toys get picked up pretty quick.
I have literally ran and hid when I heard "I'm telling mom!". I have screamed at the top of my lungs in the car when they wouldn't stop screaming. I have left my fit throwing child in one isle at Wal-Mart and walked away down another isle (you should have seen the other panicked moms). I have my kids wear dirty socks to school when I didn't feel like searching for the all elusive clean matching pair. Hey at least it wasn't dirty underwear.
All things considered, our house is a pretty normal household. I might not be a Pinterest mum, but there is love and laughter in our house. I care about my kids well being, I try to mold them into useful caring members of society, I try to teach them small things to monumental lessons, but most important I love them with every ounce I have. There will never be any perfect parenting style, those who say there is are lying bastards only out for your money.
So break out those ice cream bowls moms, cause we deserve it dammit!
