So this is marriage....

11 years ago this coming Sunday, I met my husband.

It was Mother's Day.     It was also his 27th birthday.

We met on the side of the road....literally.

I wasn't hitchhiking(nor was he). 
My car wasn't broken down.  No, it was nothing like that.

The short story is...
He waved, I waved.
He stopped, I stopped.

We went out that night and that was the end of that..... or the beginning, rather.

11 years. 

When he proposed I thought our married life together would be as easy as our brief 7 months of dating had been.
Yes, you read that correctly.

We dated, excuse me, KNEW each other for 7 months prior to getting engaged.

So I guess what I pictured was a stress free life...  living together... sleeping in on Saturdays, Saturday night dinners out with too much wine and after-dinner beers at the local pub, slightly hungover Sundays spent at our condo complex's pool. 
I pictured working out at the gym together or going for long runs just the two of us.
I pictured vacations together as a couple, trips to places we'd never been... jobs where we made enough money to cover our expenses and put some money away for the future... and life would be easy breezy, lemon squeezey.

And I think we had that for maybe... a year.
ONE year.
One year of our marriage was exactly like the above. 

And then real life set in with multiple babies, job changes, out of state moves, deaths in the family, layoffs, etc. etc. etc.

What's funny...or really NOT funny is ... no one EVER tells you that marriage is hard.
No one tells you that marriage is WORK.
It's a full time job on top of the full time job you already have.

While you're trying to make your way through life and raise children and work a job and keep a house and do day to day things... you still have this relationship that you have to maintain and foster... you still have to remember to communicate and love and laugh.

Marriage puts a whole new spin on things.
When life throws you a curveball... and something unexpected comes your way,  not only do you have to navigate your way through it, but you have to navigate your way through it WITH someone else.

And you think that would make it easier..... but sometimes it's not.

It's really like one giant road trip. 

Sounds fun, but if you're anything like us...

He's driving... and I'm in the passenger seat holding the "oh shit" handle, slamming on my imaginary brake and cursing under my breath.. praying we don't die.

And sometimes that's how marriage is. 

There is no instruction manual. 
There is no, "When situation A. arises, try XYZ and if that doesn't work... try QRS"

And you know what?
Sometimes you encounter some tough stuff.
And sometimes it's TOTAL crap.
And sometimes life hands you a LOT of lemons...and you're so SICK of making lemonade...you just wish that life would just hand you the bottle of vodka so you can squeeze those damn lemons into something with a little kick.

And you put your head down, and you grit your teeth and you get through it.
Together.
Sometimes you get through it separately, but together.
If THAT even makes sense.  

And sometimes you come out on the other side of a MAJOR challenge and you think,

 "We survived that. I REALLY didn't think we'd survive that."

But you know what? 

It's all worth it.
It is.

And it can be easy...  really easy for us, especially during a difficult time to look back on these past 11 years and see ONLY the challenges... the struggles... the stress and completely disregard the good.

And it can be really easy to count...even list the things that have gone "wrong" for us.

But it's still worth it. 

Why?
Because the good outweighs the bad.  And love always wins.

And marriage means you have this person by your side who is going to have your back for the rest of your life.

And this person is the one who knows you the best, has seen you at your worst and STILL tolerates you with all of your imperfections and annoying habits(yes, you have them too)

This person is the only one who knows what it's like to be as tired as you are because you've both been up all night with a puking kid or a crying baby. 

This is the person who knows what its like to laugh through the dinnertime antics with you or Sunday morning pancake breakfasts(with the chocolate chips and NOT syrup even though you think chocolate chips don't belong anywhere NEAR a pancake)

This person can finish your sentences and knows what you're thinking without you having to say a word.

This person will bring home cookies from the store even when you tell him not to(but really want him to and he knows it)
This person will take YOUR college cat to the vet to be put down because you're too panicked and heartbroken to do it.

This is what marriage is...with its challenges, uphill battles and stress and "oh shit" handles and imaginary brakes... and this is what is good.

This is what is good.

Peace, Love & RIGHT NOW

Does anyone know where the right side of the bed is?

I remember as a kid, if I woke up in a bad mood... my mother would say to me,

"Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!" 

I hated hearing that.
It's an expression that never really made any sense to me. 
I only knew it meant I was being teased for being grumpy in the morning.

Getting up on the wrong side of the bed back then was perfectly OK.
I was in a foul mood.
It was accepted. 
My family ignored me and went about their business and I got over my mood in my own time...and all was ok in the world of Kristen once again.

As a parent...getting up on the wrong side of the bed is like TOOOoooTALLY unacceptable.

There is no such thing as everyone ignoring you... letting you get over your mood and moving on with your day.
OH NO!
You have to SUCK. IT. UP.
Grin and bear it.
Put your big girl panties on and get over it... like NOW.

Well, many recent mornings, I've gotten up on the wrong side of the bed.

And that would be due to the fact that I'm not even really sure I sleep some nights. 
Some nights I'm up and out of bed so many times... I don't have time to sleep.
Im seriously starting to doubt the existence of the RIGHT side of the bed.

And I've come to realize (in my lack of sleep stupor)... kids don't "get" social cues.

There are mornings when it's CLEAR that I'm barely awake.

And what's even more clear is that I'm NOT happy about it.

Any adult would see those things in my face and leave me alone.
Kids? Not so much.

Every day at my house starts with what I like to call, "The morning marathon." 

Who wants what cereal? who needs juice?... who is bringing what for a snack to school?...

"Mom, can I buy lunch today? PLEASE? It's pizza and I really, really, REALLY love the school's pizza"..(really? It's cardboard) ....

"MOM! She's not sharing her stickers with me... and Sophia gave those stickers to BOTH of us!!! MOM!!!"

And the talking, chatting, arguing, questions, singing....all continue through the morning marathon.

And all I can think on those "wrong side bed" mornings is,
"Please. For the love of GOD.  I need more coffee ...and I need silence..  I need to hide somewhere because I cant take this insanity!!!"

And then the hair brush comes out.... "Mom, can you brush my hair???"
In my head... I'm thinking...
"Can't you brush your own hair?"
And I KNOW the exasperated look on my face said exactly that.

And then another voice in my head says;
"You should be cherishing this moment. She won't ask you to brush her hair for forever"...and...
"Be thankful she HAS hair!"... and then... "Be thankful she's HERE."

THE GUILT.
It sets in.  In those moments my guilt takes over and all I want to do is cry.

What kind of terrible person...NO, what kind of terrible MOTHER am I?

I should be counting my blessings...cherishing the moments.... EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

And when I don't? Guilt takes over...and I'm covered for the rest of the day in a shroud of it.
Guilt hanging over me like a black cloud.

I'm not 100% certain, but I'm fairly sure that most moms carry around the very same guilt.
Maybe it's not in the forefront of their minds at all times, but it's there. It's hiding ... lurking somewhere...waiting to come out.

We're all trying SO hard to be these super moms...
These loving and patient and kind and caring and wonderful mothers...24 hours a day, 7 days a week. 

But we're worn out and tired and exasperated and run ragged. 

And we feel guilty on top of it all for not feeling our gratitude all of the time and cherishing each moment... And really?? IT'S TOUGH!

For the most part we probably all succeed at doing what is right and what is good for our children ...keeping them safe and secure and loved.  Absolutely.

But it's a challenge to remember to cherish the little moments in between refereeing arguments and packing back packs and pouring cereal and cleaning up spilled juice. 
Especially when there's that piece of you that's needing a moment to be by yourself...and to just BE yourself...bad mood and all.

And there's a piece that maybe just needs to take a step back or TWELVE steps back and take a breather and get some space because it's overwhelming...always putting everyone else's needs first.

And it's overwhelming feeling guilty for WANTING to take a break, for wanting to go back to bed, for wanting to shut off the noise in your house for a while and let someone else handle the breakfasts and the hair brushing.  And for not cherishing it all. 

I am so VERY grateful for all that I have. 
So very, VERY blessed to have four healthy and happy children. 
I know this in my heart 100% of the time.   

On mornings when I'm struggling to keep my eyes open and not tell my kids to get their own darn breakfast... it's hard to keep that in my head.

And that's ok.  I mean, it is, right?

Perhaps I need to cut myself some slack and quiet that guilty little voice in my head....
Perhaps we all do.

Some days it's a challenge just to get out of my own way.
Some days it's a challenge just to be ME, but then to try and be a patient, kind, loving, grateful, blessings-counting Mom - maybe on those days... it's a bit too much to expect of myself.

Maybe on the days when I "get up on the wrong side of the bed",  I can just try to BE and DO. 
I'll BE Mom who packs the backpacks, and waits for the bus and reties shoelaces 100 times... feeling grumpy, worn out, tired and a little exasperated. 
I'll DO my best to just get through the day and NOT have a meltdown. 
I'll DO A-OK with keeping my kids safe and secure and loved(but maybe lack a little in the patience department) 

and that IS ok!

On those days maybe I'll just need to remind myself to start fresh again tomorrow... to drop-kick the guilt ...that it's ok to be tired and grumpy sometimes and everyone has that right ....even moms!


And at the end of those days... when the dishes are done and the laundry is folded and the day has been put behind me..
I'll peak in on my sleeping kids and will count my many blessings.... smile at their little sweet faces... wonder over how lucky I am to have them in my life....and that will be ok...
In fact, that will be BETTER than ok...THAT will be wonderful.

Peace, Love and RIGHT NOW

A difference...

Today I've decided that I will share a quick story...
In 2008 I ran the NYC marathon.
I ran it again in 2009 and 2010 too.
I ran the marathon in honor of my younger brother who was diagnosed at the age of 23 with a rare pediatric cancer called Ewing's Sarcoma. 
I ran to raise funds for pediatric cancer research.

But this story isn't about my brother. This story isn't even about me, really.

This story is about a woman I "met" at the end of the marathon in 2010.
I put the word "met" in quotes because I didn't even really MEET her.
I don't know her name... Or even really remember what she looked like.

But I remember how she made me feel.

Two weeks prior to the marathon on October 22, 2010, my brother lost his battle to cancer.
On November 7th, just two weeks later, I ran the marathon on what would have been his 26th birthday.

If you look back at pictures of that marathon... they captured an amazing day with tons and tons of friends and family throughout New York City supporting me during my run.
Every photo showed a confident, steady smile on my face. Some of the pictures even looked like I was having fun.

The pictures didn't really tell the whole story. 

In the days leading up to November 7th I was in panic mode.
Grief and panic. I knew them both intimately.

After the draining weeks leading up to my brother's death and the grief that consumed me afterward... I had no idea if I would physically or emotionally be able to run this marathon.
In fact, I was SURE I couldn't.

But how could I not? This marathon along with the two previous marathons were FOR my brother.
After his death, didn't I owe it to him to run it? Of course I did.

So I ran.
It was HARD.
I wouldn't allow myself think about my brother or much of anything while I ran because I was afraid I'd break down.. that I'd have a panic attack or just lose it halfway through the run and stop...and not be able to start again.

I NEEDED to finish. That was all I needed to do.
So I ran and ran... and I finished.
I crossed the finish line.

As I walked past the finish area I was met by a small woman.
She was a race volunteer and she was there to escort me to pick up my after-race belongings.  
She started with small talk... or what she thought would be small talk.

She congratulated me for finishing... and then she asked me how the race was.
I looked at her through tear filled eyes and choked out the words,
"It was hard."

She said, "Hard?? Oh, you had a bad race?"

I said, "No, my brother died of cancer two weeks ago and today would've been his 26th birthday."

She looked at me in shock because I'm sure this was the last thing she was anticipating.

And then she hugged me.
She hugged me hard.

I couldn't control the tears that came. It was like I had held them in for 26 miles and she was there to see them all. 
She practically held me up.
She walked me to a chair and helped me find my bag.
She got me a gatorade and a bag of chips. The entire exchange between us lasted maybe ten minutes.

I don't remember many details... like her face or the color of her hair.
But what I DO remember was the kindess she extended to me.

She could've easily mumbled, "I'm sorry for your loss", handed me my bag and turned to help another finisher, but she didn't.
She wrapped her arms around me...a complete stranger ...crying... sweaty (and probably smelly after 26.2miles) ... and she hugged me.


So what's my point?

My point is...that one woman... made a huge impact on me during a pretty difficult time.

I think of that marathon day now, two years later. 
Much of it I can recall only from looking at the the pictures that were taken...everything a blur...
and yet, I can remember CLEARLY the comfort and compassion that was given to me by a total stranger.

And I've realized, it's really the little things in this life that make a big difference, isn't it?

The large things like feeding the hungry...sheltering the homeless... those things seem overwhelming and yes, they are. One single person is not capable of  accomplishing such huge, monumental tasks alone.

But starting small... one person CAN make a difference.
Something as simple as holding a door with a smile... lending a hand to someone struggling... making a meal for a neighbor...and yes, hugging someone who is hurting...  all those little things CAN make a huge impact.
And those are all things that ALL of us are capable of doing.

"At the end of the day people won’t remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel"

So what are we waiting for??  Let's start now! Pass it on... pay it forward.... Make a difference!


Peace, Love & RIGHT NOW

BUG BEGONE!!!

It's been almost a month since my last post... I've been having a bit of trouble coming up with subjects to write about. 
Or maybe it's not lack of subjects... maybe it's lack of motivation to sit and write... or lack of attention.
I'll sit, but then.. oops! Something else grabs my attention. 
Or... If I get an extended amount of time to sit and write... it's NOT an extended amount of time before I sit and fall asleep. Who knows?

Anyway...

So this week we've been battling the stomach bug.
Battling is a joke... battling makes it sound like it's a fair fight.  When it comes to the stomach bug, nothing is fair... no one stands a chance... The stomach bug always wins.  I know people say love always wins... well, in a fight between love and the stomach bug?

Sorry love, prepare to have your butt handed to you(literally).

It's this time of year... Mid-march... the end of winter/early spring when the germs have festered so long... It's this time that I want to spray my children with bleach when they walk in the door after school.
I knew it wouldn't be long before we got hit. We were spared last year. Not so lucky this year.

I try to be so diligent.
I have hand sanitizer in my car, one attached to each kid's backpack and one in each of their lunch boxes.
You know that scene in the movie, "Almost Famous" where the mom yells to her son at school,
"Don't take drugs!"???

That's me... except I yell,
"Don't touch your face! Keep your hands out of your mouth! Use your hand sanitizer!"

My kids think I'm nuts.  
They get off the bus from school... and the first thing they must do when they get in the house is wash their hands...and if I don't think they've washed for long enough... I send them back in to wash again.
I want those hands so clean they could perform surgery if they had to.
Excessive, I know.
Annnnnnd....clearly none of that worked.

The first victim was hit on Thursday night at 11:30.
Just as I was falling into a deep sleep I was woken up by a twin telling me her sister had thrown up in her bed. 
Awesome.

As my feet were hitting the floor out of bed I was chanting in my head,

 "Please be a fluke. Please be fluke. Please be a fluke" knowing deep down..this was no fluke and we were all in for the long haul.

I spent all of Friday bleaching, lysoling, washing, cleaning, scrubbing, disinfecting...and for what?!?

Nothing. 

I was the next one hit on Sunday. Woke up feeling yuck.
Ignored it... went for a run... went to church... halfway through church I thought...
"This is it... I'm going down."
 
Got home and was in bed all day. Well, in bed AND the bathroom.

I have to say... being sequestered to my room and watching the husband handle the kids from afar all day was quite nice(as well as entertaining!), although, I could've done without the throwing up.

The Hallmark channel kept me company... and I SWEAR, they just recycle the same actors for every movie.  Jason London? Come on. You're better than that, dude.

After me, it was like toy soldiers. Next one Monday... then another Monday night. 
I swear even our cat has some sort of bug.  I actually resorted to wiping her down with a clorox wipe.  Please don't call the humane society on me. Desperate times call for desperate measures!

Currently, there are two left standing in the house... the hubs and the oldest. 
Every night, the oldest looks like she's being sent to the electric chair as she walks down the hall to bed. She's filled with dread that she is going to be the next victim.  Can't say I blame her.
The waiting is the worst part!  And the not knowing WHEN... is terrible.

Will it be the middle of the night? On the bus?  At school??
I mean... at school? awful.

I think every adult has a story about how that "one kid" in elementary school threw up in the middle of the classroom or walking down the hall on the way to the nurse.... Ugh.

Who really wants to be that one kid remembered for THAT!? 
(seriously, try and tell me you don't remember that kid's name... EVERYONE remembers that kid's name!)

And as a mom... the waiting is absolutely the worst part.
I go to sleep every night thinking...
"Please let me get a full night sleep tonight. Please don't let another one get hit and have to start the sheets changing, laundry, disinfecting cycle all over again. PLEASE!"

It would be easier if we all got it at the same time. Like the chicken pox!
When we were little, our parents actually exposed us to the pox on purpose!!!
"Billy down the street has it...go down and get it. Get it over with!"

Maybe I'll start doing that with the stomach bug.
"Hurry up! your sister just puked... brush your teeth with her toothbrush! Drink out of her cup!
LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD!"

Instead ... this bug takes it's time... lingering... waiting for it's next victim... not knowing when or where....

And I know...with four kids, I should expect this.
Kids are germy.
They bring home every ailment known to man...

Stomach bug, pink eye, coxsacky (REALLY? Couldn't have come up with a better name for that one?)

Never heard of coxsacky until my kids got it.
The doctor said, "She has coxsacky" and I literally said, "Excuse me, what?!"
Kids are gross!

Honestly, I don't know how Michelle Duggar does it. She has what, 18, 19 ... 25 kids??(I've lost track)
What happens when the stomach bug hits them? It must be like an epidemic up in that house.
 And the laundry? I can't even imagine the laundry.

Oh wait, but she home schools her kids... so they probably aren't introduced to all those outside germs.

Hmmm....
Home school.

Food for thought?

I don't think so.

So, for now... we wait.
And disinfect.
And continue on through the piles of laundry that have taken over the laundry room.

PEACE, LOVE & RIGHT NOW

And so I run...

Someone asked me the other day if I was still running.

And by the way, when I say the other day, it could mean two days ago or two months ago... or even almost a year ago. 
Everything seems like just the other day to me.

Anyway... am I still running? 
I told my husband I was asked this question and we both laughed a little.

I said, "Asking me if I'm still running is like asking me if I'm still breathing.  Imagine if I didn't run?
 I'd lose my marbles!"
His very dry response, "WE ALL WOULD."

And he's right.

Growing up, I hated running.
I was never one to run. Ever.

I didn't want to play soccer growing up. Why? Because I didn't like to run.
Absolutely. Hated. It.

Instead, I danced. 
I spent most nights during the week from middle school through high school at a small dance school where I practiced ballet, tap and jazz... where I stretched and sweated and laughed and had fun...it was my home away from home... it was what I loved.

After I graduated high school, I went to college and I stopped dancing. 
I just stopped. And no exaggeration... I think a little part of my soul died.

It's not like I was this professional dancer or I was ever going to have a career in dancing.
Not in the slightest.
Hell, maybe I wasn't even GOOD. (ok, I was a little bit good)
But I spent so much time in my life dancing and then to just up and stop, cold turkey... holy crap.
It was intense.
And I really lost a little part of myself.

I no longer got that "me" time...where I didn't think... where I just moved and counted and breathed... focusing  not on me, but on ME.
I know, that really makes no sense.
But when I was dancing... I wasn't thinking about school or school work, or my friend who was mad at me... or the HUGE MONUMENTAL fight (isn't everything HUGE and MONUMENTAL in high school?) I had with my boyfriend... it all went away... and my mind was clear and all was good for a while.

So when I lost dance... I needed to find something else.
And I don't even know how it happened, really.
I found running. 
Or maybe running found me?
I don't really know.

I went to the school gym near my dorm because I realized I needed some sort of an outlet...and if I'm being completely honest... needed to burn off the late night pizza and cheap canned beer I drank.

But I got on a treadmill to walk...and eventually that walking led to running
And that was it.
I was set free.

I liked the rhythm of running.
I liked the breathing.
I liked that I had to focus so much on my steps and not DYING that I couldn't think about anything else. Nothing.

And at first... I really sucked.
I was a bad runner. My stamina was nil.
So I walked and ran...and walked some more.. and then ran a little more.
And I'm sure it didn't look pretty or graceful, but it was time I spent with me... not thinking.

And as time went on... I ran more, walked less... ran further(further? or farther? ), ran faster...

I ran alone.
I ran with friends and roommates.
I ran with my husband back when he was still my boyfriend... in the dark after work because he refused to let me run by myself.
I ran a few races.
I ran a handful of marathons.

And in all that time... I never considered myself a runner.
But by definition - and I did really  look this up -  A runner is a  person who runs  or a person who runs competitively as a sport or hobby: "a marathon runner".

So I guess before I realized it... I was a runner.
Sounds weird to me.  I'm not a runner... I just run.

And as I look back at that time I've spent running(I don't want to even count how many years now)...

It has saved me.

Running has gotten me through some tough times;
My twins' infancy...when I needed to escape the madness of my house I'd tie on my shoes and go for an hour... and I'd come back a new(or new-ish) mom... with a clearer head and renewed patience.

I ran through my younger brother's illness and his subsequent death and some of those dark days with tears streaming down my face, I felt like I could run forever...  leaving behind the noise in my head... running through the anger and sorrow in my heart....

And without that outlet... what would I have done?

Running has made me a better person... a stronger person.
Running has allowed me to be a better mother... A better wife.

It's not always easy or fun.
It's not always a "good" run... but it's always... ALWAYS worth it. 

And I certainly know that running isn't for everyone.
That some people would rather poke their eyes out than run a lap at the high school track.
I get that.
In fact, that was me at one point.

But, I do believe that everyone needs SOMETHING.

An outlet...an escape... something that they can turn to when times get tough or maybe not even tough... just something that is just theirs alone -a mind clearing, thinking of nothing,  SOMETHING... knitting, cooking, a sport, yoga, reading....whatever

(not endorsing drinking or drugs here, although a glass of wine does make bedtime with my kids a little easier)

But it's food for the soul... a little ME time.

So am I still running? 
For MY sanity...and the sanity of my husband and my children and all of those that know me(or even come in contact with me)...

I SURE AM!

Peace, Love & RIGHT NOW

Snow days... love 'em and LOATHE 'em

Welp, no school again today.

I get the feeling that someone somewhere is testing me.... seeing how much I can actually take before I go completely nuts and have to be put in a loony bin somewhere.

This is the fourth day my kids have been home from school and pretty much stuck inside due to the THREE FEET OF SNOW we had. 

And every day I walk the line between kindness and madness.
Good mom and bad mom.
Sanity and lunacy.

It's exhausting.

My kids are tiring, yes. They really are.
But they're kids! And I have a hard time remembering that sometimes.

They're supposed to be tiring.
They're supposed to be non-stop question asking, drink needing, snack wanting, mess making,  arguing, "I'm bored" kind of people.

That's their job.
And mine are REALLY good at their job.

The thing is... I can handle a snow day or two.
In fact, I enjoy them and actually look forward to them every winter!

Hunkering down, watching the snow, drinking hot cocoa with the tiny marshmallows, making crafts, watching movies all snuggled together on the couch, playing endless games of Uno and Old Maid... those are all SO very appealing to me.

But after the second day of all that yummy togetherness... I'm all about life moving on... starting the next thing... Everybody up and at 'em and OUT. OF. THE HOUSE.

So I've been in the house with my four kids for FIVE days...no wait... SIX days. (I'm losing track of time over here)

Annnnnnd
I'm done.
I'm cooked.
I'm waving the white flag.

GAME OVER.

My kids have exhausted me, for sure.

But I think I've exhausted myself far more than my kids ever could.

In the past six days, I've had to check and recheck myself....
Monitor my patience level... rethink my expectations level...change my tone of voice...triple check my boiling point.

Bring it all down like twelve notches(all but the patience level. That, I've had to increase like tenfold.)

I'M TIRED!!

My kids are just being kids...that's all.
And I'm just being an adult who is done being with kids 24/7.

I'm done with the crafts and the Legos and the fights over Wii and the constant snacks and drinks and the who hit who first.... and the "SHE started it".

They need to be back in school.
We need to be back to our regularly scheduled program because I can't take much more of this.

I'm tapped out on patience. 
I need a break from them so I can be happy to see them again.
I need them out so when they come home, I can have a REAL smile on my face... not a forced smile that's more like a grimace with my teeth clenched. (how's this for brutal honesty?)

I'm over trying to juggle my work-from-home job with my Mom job because the two don't mix.
Not for an extended period of time, at least.

I'll be on a work call and I'll turn around to a child tapping me on the shoulder mouthing,
"Can I have a snack?".
To which I wave her away frantically trying to mouth to her that I'll be with her in a minute ...
To which she responds shouting, "WHAT?!? I don't know what you're saying!!!!" ....

It's been an interesting couple of days...and I'm having a hard time keeping all of the balls in the air.

And it's not fair! 

It's not fair to them... I can't expect them to behave like adults and give me the time and quiet I need to get my work done... they're NOT adults. (I must keep this in the front of my mind at all times)

And it's not fair to me.   I'm starting to want to hide from them.... I'm starting to cringe at the sound of, "Can I have a snack???" 
And their footsteps!! Their footsteps haunt me wherever I go.. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! I'M GOING TO THE BATHROOM! I CAN'T PUT YOUR HAIR IN A PONY TAIL RIGHT THIS SECOND!!!!!

And I feel awful even typing any of this...but then I think to myself...
If I was trapped someplace with my best friend in the whole world for six days....
I'd be sick of her too! 

Everyone needs space... under the BEST circumstances.

Under THESE circumstances.? We all need a drink.

Peace, Love & RIGHT NOW

Night is for sleeping... or should be.

I've learned a lot of things in the past seven years of being a parent.... a lot of things that,  to me,  are now ridiculously obvious -
but prior to being called, "Mom"  I never gave them a second thought.

Like, cleaning the house while your kids are at home.  It's like shoveling while it's still snowing. 
There is absolutely no point whatsoever.

And, being on the phone while making homemade play dough is NOT a good idea.  Flour and unsupervised children do NOT mix.

And, there is no such thing as pleasing everyone at the same time... especially at dinner time.
No matter what I make for dinner, there is always someone who doesn't like it. 

But one of THE most important things I've learned while being a parent?

Nothing good comes from being woken up in the middle of the night.

Now, I'm not talking about a baby crying to be fed...because even the most exhausted mothers will say that those peaceful times feeding their baby in the middle of the night are some of their favorites.

I'm talking about that tap on the shoulder when you're in mid dream at 2AM.....That tap that somehow incorporates INTO your dream.... That tap-tap-tapping that just won't stop until you realize it's not in your dream, but someone standing next to your bed STARING at you. 

#1. That's some scary sh*t. 
Opening your eyes to see your child standing there staring.  It's like poltergeist or something.

#2. Nothing good comes from your child standing at your bed at 2AM because it is usually followed by,

"Mommy, I wet the bed".

In which case you have to get yourself up,  wrestle the sheets off the bed...put on some clean ones, wash up the kid and put her back in bed all while trying to keep your eyes closed so that when you get back in your own bed, you're not wide awake and struggling to fall back to sleep.  No easy task.

Or how about this at 2AM?

"Mommy, I'm scared to sleep in my room"

This is a tough one.
This means that you either have to bring that scared little person into your bed to sleep between you and your husband. Where SHE sleeps and neither of you do.

OR
You head into her room with her. Squeeze into a twin bed... lie there, not moving, with the hope that she falls asleep so you can slip out unnoticed...but that never happens because every time you open your eye a crack to take a peak at her. She's peaking back at you.

DAMN IT!

You can try the whole,
"No, you're not going to sleep in my bed tonight. I'm going to bring you back to your room and you're going to go back to sleep in your own bed"  (because isn't that what the "experts" advise you to do?)

This is usually followed up with some crying...maybe some crying and then some screaming ...and then you giving in and  letting her sleep in your bed in order to avoid waking up the rest of your sleeping children.

Because what's worse than one non-sleeping child in the middle of the night? 
FOUR non-sleeping children in the middle of the night.
(Can you tell that this one has been playing out in my house a LOT recently? Awesome.)

There is one thing that is far worse than the mild shoulder tapping wake up at 2AM ...
and that is the SCREAMING wake up at 2AM.

We've had a bunch of those.

Those happen when, most specifically, one (I won't mention any names) of my children is sick.

This child is scared of throwing up.
Actually, not just scared...absolutely terrified.
So if she feels sick, there isn't that tap on the shoulder to wake me up to say,
"Mommy, I think I might throw up"
Nope. That's too rational.

She wakes me up by screaming bloody murder in her bed... like someone is stabbing her over and over again.

Ever been woken up like that?
It's the closest to death I've come. It's heart attack inducing.  I'm not kidding.

So, hands down, the screaming is, by FAR, the worst kind of wake up.

#1. It takes a full 30 seconds for me to even realize that I'm out of my bed and RUNNING through my house... I have no idea where the screams are coming from or where I'm running to because I'm still asleep.  My body is working but my brain is not.  And my heart is now beating furiously.. by itself .....    ....on the living room floor.

#2. Once I find the screaming child.... Its a disaster trying to talk her down.
She feels sick, but won't admit it because admitting it is like defeat.
In her mind, admitting she feels like she MIGHT throw up automatically means she's DEFINITELY, NO WAY AROUND IT, going to throw up.

And for her, throwing up is the WORST. THING. EVER.
And for me? HER throwing up is the WORST. THING. EVER.

She's been known to try and outrun her vomit. Not kidding.
I bring out the bucket and she starts to run.
I once had to tackle her in the hallway to get her to throw up in the bucket rather than on the floor while trying to run away. 

She also screams right before throwing up. 
Which I guess could be a good thing because then we know to get the bucket ready.  But it's a little unnerving.  The pre-puke blood curdling scream scares the crap out of me every single time.

And all of this goes on in the dead of night. 
I've been woken up out of a sound sleep and the next thing I know I'm tackling my child in the hallway to get her to throw up in a bucket!   How does this happen?!

I have yet to be woken up in the middle of the night by one of my children handing me flowers...
Or by someone just needing to tell me they love me,.
Although, that would still be annoying, just less annoying/horrific than the tapping and screaming.

I mean, can't we all just stay asleep and leave the tapping, screaming, puking, bed wetting and whatever else for during the day?
I function way better during the daylight hours when I've had a full night sleep(Can't remember the last time THAT happened)  

I know that people say, "You'll miss this when they're older"

I can confidently say, "No, I won't."

This is one thing about parenting that I will NOT miss.  

The homemade playdough messes and the complaining over dinner?
Sure, I can see myself missing all those little things....

But the middle of the night?

I'd like to keep that just for sleeping. Thanks.


Peace, Love & RIGHT NOW