Happiness Is...

a sunny day

an open field

a few giggles

maybe a couple of sticks

and one sweet baby boy...

If You Don't Yell at Your Kids, You're Not Spending Enough Time With Them

it was one of those. couldn't get those two in bed fast enough. their bickering. their whining. their questions upon questions upon questions -- all nearly did me in.

and i lost it. not sure what it is or if i ever really had it.  if i did, it definitely not only fell by the wayside last wednesday, but exploded then crashed and burned in a fiery blaze leaving me a pile of ashes.

all over sorry. as in the board game.

i could feel my shoulders slump and my body cave as my middle child asked to pull it out. i was already in, shall we say, not the cheeriest of moods so the thought of playing a board game with my 4-year-old  -- who may go down in history as the world's poorest sport -- felt like being asked to eat a shit salad.

but, there we sat. with our men. i got to be red and yellow. he was blue and green. he decided, right off the bat, that his men should start at the "home" spot -- where you're supposed to finish. fine. let's start at home. but just so you know, that sucks. and it's not how the rest of the world plays the game.

i picked a card and moved my men from the home spot down several spaces toward "start."

"you're cheating!"

what? not only am i forced to play a boardgame in a world where rules and common sense don't exist, i am also playing with a human being who believes the only way i'm not cheating is if he is winning. 
if i was in any sort of giving, nurturing state of mind, it wouldn't have mattered. the kid is 4. he just learned to wipe his ass a year ago. and he's still not that great at it.

but, things didn't play out like they should. like they should if you're kinda, sorta the one who's supposed to be the bigger person?

still, instead of doing what was going on in my head (something like me flipping the boardgame and letting pieces fly while yelling at the top of my lungs, "cheating?!? how do you feel about cheating now? want a piece of me?!? now go practice wiping your ass!"), i decided to excuse myself and let him play the game on his own.

it really was the kindest most loving gesture i could have made in that very moment because if i had to start at "home" again and then listen to how i was cheating just by picking a card that fortuitously moved me forward in the game, i was doing to implode. as in explode inward.

plus, i had to make dinner. so, baby in toyroom; oldest kid (who had earlier been banished for insubordination, excessive whining, excessive tattling and excessive excessiveness) in her room writing why she was mad so we could discuss it later in a calm, rational way (yeah, right);  and middle kid playing army men with the little plastic pieces from sorry boardgame in dining room, blissfully unaware that he had nearly witnessed his mother exploding from the outside in.

oh, and p.s., husband was not going to be home until 8 p.m. score!!

i started to make tacos. all i wanted was to get through our tacos so we could go get ice cream. it was in part an effort to bring some levity to a day that we were all slogging through. but truth be told, i was the one who really needed that scoop of vanilla ice cream with extra chunks of butterfinger. it was really the only thing that got me through the morning. and then the afternoon. and then the late afternoon. and then the early evening and then the evening. promise of ice cream.

glorious ice cream.

i was finishing up the tacos when i asked jack to please clean up his game because we were getting ready for dinner. i was sweaty from cleaning up off the floor the 100 water bottles i had bought from the grocery story earlier in the day, the contents of our tupperware drawer that had been splayed across the kitchen floor, and the innards of a full bag of pretzels that now littered the foyer area where the culprit -- my 1-year-old -- sat cheshire-like amidst his "creations."

oh and icing? my oldest in and out of the kitchen giving me "you're a mean mommy" dirty looks punctuated by "but mama! but mama! whyyyyyyy can't i play on the i-pad?"

shoot me. immediately. and while you're at it, take this sledgehammer and kill all ipads and iphones.

i finished the tacos and asked my 4-year--old to paaalease clean up his game...again. but this time, i prayed. actually more of a pleading. a sacrificial offering to the gods on mount olympus to puppet my preschooler into cooperation.

"why do i have to clean it up? you're the one who got it out. you should clean it up."

the gods obviously weren't listening.

i walked calmly over to my child and proceeded to lose. my. shit. salad.

"CLEAN UP THIS GAME NOW!!!!!!!!!"

i don't yell like that much. i boss for sure, but yelling? not so much. when i do, though, man is it scary. those kids hit the ground running. and although i feel bad because they are freaking out, it can be a rather effective and briefly satisfying way to get shit done.

needless to say, that sorry game got scooped up right quick.

but it wasn't over. next up? the oldest. she came down with her drawing of "feelings" so we could talk about it. and there it was: a picture of a pig's head with "mean mommy" scrawled next to it and a big "NO!" under it.

it actually was not an inexact likeness based on the swine-like scream i had just emitted over the uncleaned boardgame.

and ladies and gents, we have round 2:

"I'M A PIG?!? THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK?!? I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD DRAW YOUR MOTHER AS A PIG!!!"

not a shining moment for any of us, but considering one of us is an adult...well...

tears, tears and more tears. chaos, chaos and more chaos. mean mama, mean mama and more mean mama. and the baby in his highchair, the only one eating tacos (i somehow managed to feed him while losing my noodle -- a  sign not of a good mother, necessarily, but a real one) right in the eye of the storm -- laughing and smiling at the madness of it all.

i got dinner on the table. marley actually set the table. jack actually helped. we all actually sat down. and ate tacos. in silence. after we finished, i said this:

"you guys, i am sorry that i screamed."

i really wasn't.

"it's not a nice way to tell you i'm mad. sometimes mamas get super-tired or in a bad mood and throw temper tantrums too. but i should have given myself a time out before i started yelling."

they both looked at me with wide eyes.

from the 4-year-old: "i'm sorry i don't like cleaning up. it's really boring."

and from the 7-year-old: "it was not a pig."

"huh?"

"the picture i drew. it was not a pig. it was just a mad face because i was feeling mad. did you think it was a pig because the nostrils were big? I made the nostrils extra big because that's how they get when people are really mad."

sigh. hug. sigh. long hug.

"let's go get ice cream. i love you guys. i'm sorry."

we left the mess behind us (literally -- the kitchen and dining room were a wreck when my husband got home) and ate ice cream.

when we got home, even though i was exhausted from the day and just wanted to put them straight to bed,  i read to them. it wasn't perfect ("mama. why are you reading so fast and your voice sounds like a robot?"), but it bookended the day.

i kissed them goodnight and promised them that although today was rough, tomorrow was a new one.

and if all else fails? there's always ice cream...

Better Late Than Never

i started this father's day tribute yesterday, but we were so busy actually celebrating...no time to blog. so today, we started thai school/camp for the two older kids and the wee one is sleeping...AND i folded the laundry. AND i started dinner. AND i returned two clients' phone calls. so, now, my dear husband, you get center stage here on me blog.

it seems aeons ago that you were this guy...

and now you're this guy...

there was lots in between...

one thing remains the same: those kids are damn lucky.

i love you...happy father's day!

r.

First Days of Summer

with m out of school, our summer days have just begun. with a particularly busy spring (that has given me a new-found respect for professional event planners and fundraisers), i experienced first-hand the old adage: life is as complicated as you make it. 

i love my job and pursuing interests outside of being a wife and mother, but i am glad that for right now, all that has calmed down and  there is this.

Something Happened on the Way to Mother's Day

nate was particularly bent about the fact that i would not let him eat the flower on my tray. jack was doing his usual i-will-not-pose-for-pictures squirm and marley is just hoping that the kid on the floor will stop screaming long enough for the spotlight to be on her mother's day gift.


my smile? well, you just gotta, don't you?

happy mother's day to my mommas out there!! xoxo

Fear Itself

i was on the radio yesterday. terrified barely covers how the very thought of public speaking makes me feel. the idea that many people -- many, many people -- would be hearing my voice, my opinions, my thoughts? yup. sheer terror.

now, let me rewind for a sec. my daughter, who is seven and finishing up first grade, started off her school career, well, shy. she would sit in the back of the class, coast and often hope that the teacher wouldn't notice her. no spotlight, paaalease. nothing to see here. just mindin' my own business. thank you. she would tell me that she just felt scared. scared of what, i would ask. scared that she would give the wrong answer and sound silly. can you imagine?

i can.

now let me rewind even further. i'm seven and finishing up first grade. i started off my school career quiet. diligent, creative and, you guessed it, shy. unsure. just let me write my words, draw my pictures, add my numbers. but, please, please, please don't make me say anything out loud.

at home, i wasn't shy. in fact, i was quite loud. but in school. in front of other people. friendly, nice, but not a hand-raiser. nope.

thirty-plus years later, i've learned that unless i want to sit on a computer and blog all day (um...), i have to do  things that are uncomfortable. that make me nervous. that have the potential to make me look and feel stupid. sometimes i do great and other times i do look stupid.  but, i always know i grow from it. and now that i have a daughter -- much like her mother in so many ways -- i have an even bigger reason to try.

husband and daughter listened to the show online; i'm still too squeamish to do it. according to husband, daughter beamed the whole time, hearing my voice. i had told her i was nervous. she knew i was scared. but she saw me do it anyway.

afterwards, my husband sent me an email:
i'm very, very proud of you! you did something you were nervous about and you did it fearlessly. marley listened to it too...she was very, very excited. an old proverb -- a boy says, "dad, can you be brave if you're scared of something?" dad says, "son, that's the only time you can be brave." 


you taught our daughter that today.

A Fond Farewell

i came home from work the other night to find the kids a-twitter with excitement over their new discovery: a robin's egg. the egg had fallen from a nest somewhere, but other than a tiny crack, was fully intact. the kids fashioned a new cozy nest out of grass and twigs, brought their new little blue friend inside, and promptly made him a member of our family.

my husband and i figured there would be no harm in letting "eggie" hang out for a bit. and with the kids besotted, what else could we really say? so, there eggie stayed...on our dining room table. he was greeted each day with a cheery "good morning!" from both kids. my daughter would come home from school every afternoon and run right up to eggie, stroking him gently and whispering to him.

then one day. it happened. i was in the next room when all of the sudden i heard a cry. a pained, panicked, anguished cry. i ran in to find...eggie. in pieces. first thought? disease. luckily eggie broke on a placemat so just ran that over to the sink. as my daughter sobbed and screamed "he's gone! he's gone!" i scrubbed her hands. then we sat down. at that point, i noticed the 4-year-old had tears streaming down his face. "oh eggie! poor eggie!" he sobbed. i held the two of them on my lap, both inconsolable.

but it didn't end there. a few seconds later, i felt a tug on my leg. the baby had toddled over. seeing how upset his siblings were, he began to cry in support. and so it went for about 10 minutes. tears and sobs punctuated with cries of "eggie! he's gone! eggie's gone!"

finally, when the volume started to die down, i could talk. "eggie was pretty awesome wasn't he? i'm going to miss him too." and because i write when i'm sad (and happy and mad and tired and frustrated and excited), i said, "why don't we write and draw some pictures to show eggie how much we're going to miss him?" tears stopped. markers came out. and here's what we got.

goodbye dear eggie. you were loved. and we'll miss you.

Scenes From a Birthday Party

yes. i thought the same thing...and no, you're not a pervert. and if you are then so am i.