Tag Archives: kids

Spring “Break” for Moms

Posted in All Posts, Blogging, Family, Kids, Life, Motherhood by

Spring Break.  The phrase that used to be synonymous with fun, sun, and idleness.  Before I had kids.

When I didn’t work outside the home, Spring Break meant long days with my overly excited children, trying to come up with ways to occupy their time so they wouldn’t kill each other or I, them.  The words, “Spring Break” struck fear into my very heart.

Now that I’m working, I was excited about Spring Break.  I looked forward to it, marked the days until I could sleep past 5:30, stay up late blogging or watching movies, go to the spa, get a haircut, go to the zoo.

Psshht.

Here it is, Friday, the last day of Spring Break and I haven’t watched a movie.  This is the only blogging I’ve done, I’ve barely been outside the house except to take my kids to the doctor, I didn’t get a massage or a haircut, and I didn’t take my kids to the zoo.

Side note:  NEVER NEVER tell your kids you’re going to take them somewhere over Spring Break.  Trust me, you’ll regret it.  Something will come up.  A hurricane in Disney World or your sewer will back up and you’ll have to spend the Lego Land money to have feces pumped out of your yard.  Instead, the night before you want to leave, let the kids stay up really late, wake them up early, give them a Benadryl, load them into the car, tell them you’re taking them to the dentist, and drive while they sleep. That way, if your engine blows up on I-95, they’re happy.  No tears or accusations on their part and you’ll be guilt free.  And if, by some miracle, you actually make it to your destination, you’re a hero!

Super Mom

So how did I spend my Spring Break?  Doing all the crap I can’t do while I’m at work.  Making phone calls, scheduling doctors’ appointments, getting my son a pair of glasses to replace the ones he lost months ago, and Spring cleaning.  Oh my, the cleaning.

You’d think that since 10 short months ago we literally had Nothing, I wouldn’t have much junk.  You’d be wrong.  We have loads of useless crap.  Aside from broken motherboards and pieces of old VCRs (mother of a 13yo geek-in-training–and proud of it, I might add), shoes I’ll never wear, purses I’ll never carry, and toys my kids outgrew three years ago,  there are the clothes.

When you have nothing, you take everything, especially clothes.  Well, I took too much.  Doing laundry for 7 people is time-consuming but imagine if everyone has enough clothes to last an entire month?  You know how, when you’re tired from working, you’re perfectly content NOT to do laundry as long as someone has something to wear to school the next day?  (No?  Well, maybe that’s just me.)  So I let the laundry ride.   This week, I had to catch it up.  As I was busy running around town to doctor’s offices and whatnot, I didn’t have time to fold it.  As usual, I dumped it on the couch, with plans to fold it all in one giant Laundry Party (that’s the only kind of party I’m having these days.  *sigh*)  Before I knew it, I had Mount Kilimanjaro in my living room.

Mt Kilimanjaro.

Mt Kilimanjaro. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I got out the garbage bags.  I folded and tossed like a madwoman.  Before long I had 5 garbage bags full of clothes ready to go to the Goodwill and still too many clothes to fit in the drawers.  I eyed the kids’ piles of clothes and decided they really didn’t need 3 sets of yard work clothes.  I mean, they don’t even do yard work.  I reduced again.  At this point, I was tossing every 3rd shirt.  Hope they weren’t particularly attached to any of them.

Add to the laundry cleaning up after my highly inquisitive 2yo that likes to paint her body with fingernail polish and dump everything on the floor, especially the contents of salt shakers and shampoo bottles, and refereeing fights between all five kids and you have a very good idea what my Spring Break was like.

I can’t wait until Monday.

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How about you?  You do anything fun for Spring Break or was it as awful as mine?

Related Posts:

Monday, Beautiful Monday
A Day in the Life
And So It Begins:  The Dreaded Summer Vacation

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The Car Line Incident–Fast Getaway

Posted in All Posts, Life, Motherhood, Writing by

Waiting in the car rider line at school is horrible.  The cars move at a snail’s pace, the traffic cops always allow too many cars from the other side to enter the parking lot first, and there is always that ONE frazzled mom in a minivan** who tries to enter/exit the wrong way.

**I’m so not that mom.  Yes, I got a ticket for making an illegal turn, which was a complete hose job and a story for another day, but I DO NOT drive a minivan and I NEVER get frazzled.  So there.

Add to the fact that it’s been 100+ degrees nearly every day and the kids are waiting outside, sweating like mad, and then immediately getting on my case when they get in the car–”Why’d it take you so long?” as if they thought I should maneuver my land yacht up and over the mile long line of cars to pick them up the moment school let out– then you can imagine the misery of my afternoon.  But there are times when the car rider line is insanely entertaining.

Car routes are complicated things.  It’s taken years for the schools to find a system that works.  It’s still not perfect, but it’s as close as it’s going to get to being so.  It would work much better if everyone followed the rules, as is true in all aspects of life.  And, as in all aspects of life, there are always people who don’t follow the rules.

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Aside from obeying the traffic cop, there is only one rule in the middle school car rider line.  You must drive your car all the way to the stopping point.  It doesn’t matter if your kid is right there when you first drive up, you must pass them and go to the stopping point so that the largest number of cars possible can fit into the loading zone.  It’s logical in relation to everyone else.  To a parent that’s been waiting more than 1/2 hour to pick up their child, who is right there, within 3 feet of the car, passing them by is counterproductive and just dumb.  It doesn’t matter much to the kid.  The cars are driving so slowly, the kid can easily keep pace and climb in the car when it stops.  It matters to the parent.  The goal is to get the kid in the car as soon as possible, all other parents and kids can fend for themselves.  This “me and mine” mentality would cause car wrecks, mom brawls, and student stampedes, if not for one crucial detail–the enforcers.

Nevermind Wyatt Earp, Dave Schultz, or Frank Nitti.  The real enforcers are the brave group of 5 teachers who direct traffic and occasionally yell, “PULL UP!!” to crazed parents, all while wearing sensible pumps and carrying a smiley face umbrella to keep off the sun.  You DO NOT cross these ladies.  They’ve spent all day wrangling middle schoolers.  They are not about to surrender to unruly parents in the car line.  They do a darn good job keeping the peace and the car line moving.  But some parents can’t be stopped….

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Fast Getaway

Ford Focus ST

Image via Wikipedia

It’s the third day of the ridiculous car line and the wait is longer than ever before.  I’m creeping along behind a red Ford Focus.  For 35 minutes I’ve stared at the back of that car with its “Yes We Can!” bumper sticker and the stuffed Hello Kitty in the back window.  Finally, we are number two and three in the next line of cars due to pull up to the stopping point.  We begin the crawl and suddenly, Red Focus stops.  I see a very pretty young lady begin walking toward the car.  I’m not the only one.  Suddenly a sundress clad teacher starts waving her arms at Red Focus.  Red Focus lurches forward a fraction and stops again.  The young lady quits moving and glances nervously at Sundress Teacher.  Then Red Focus lady starts waving her arms at her daughter.  Not toward the stopping point, but toward herself. “Come on,” the wave says.

Sundress Teacher waves wildly while calling in the big guns.  Man Teacher emerges from the shadows and booms out, “Move forward!”  Red Focus lady continues waving with what, I assume, is desperation.   Dutiful daughter does the only thing she can.  She obeys her mother.  She looks at her feet as they move, with conviction, toward Red Focus.  In a flash, she is pulling the door handle and folding herself quickly, but daintily, into the front seat.

Sundress Teacher and Man Teacher are both yelling, “NO!” and gesticulating madly, to no avail.  Red Focus veers out of the car line and I watch Hello Kitty grow smaller by the millisecond as Red Focus makes her getaway.  The whole incident took less than a minute.  The experience will stay with me for a lifetime.

Like many witnesses to heinous crimes, I’m asking a lot of deep questions.  Why would a normal Red Focus suddenly go berserk?  Was the strain of waiting another minute too much to bear?  Was it simply a crime of desperation? Was she late for an oil change?  I may never know, but it’s okay.  Some questions aren’t meant to be answered.

There is, however, one question I can answer with absolute certainty:  With such a dramatic exit, how can Red Focus ever show her grill in car line again?  She can’t.  Not without some major body work, anyway.  Hello Kitty and the “Yes We Can” (cheat in car line) bumper sticker will have to be removed.  As for the pretty young lady, her life will never be the same again.  She will live in fear of being recognized by Sundress and Man teacher. She may have to be let out a couple of blocks from school and forced to walk.

Or worse, she may have to ride the bus.

What A Difference A Day Makes

Posted in All Posts, Family, Life, Motherhood by

At some point, every mom feels useless, lazy, inept, stupid, sad, fake, or guilty.  Useless because she’s “just a mom” and doesn’t have anything else to offer the world.  Lazy because the dishes are piled in the sink, the laundry basket is full, and there’s a strange smell coming from the kid’s room and she doesn’t have the energy to care, much less do anything about it.  Inept because she’s just yelled at the kids for being kids and is probably doing things on a daily basis that will screw them up for life.  Stupid because she can’t remember the word for that round glass object she piles the mountains of food on to scarf down in a mindless comfort eating session.  Sad because she spends too much time reading Jane Austen novels and watching too many chick flicks and then wondering why her husband isn’t making grand declarations of his love and appreciation using words of four or more syllables or pithy statements like “You complete me.”  Fake because no matter how she’s feeling on the inside, outwardly she’s smiling and pretending everything is great.  Guilty because her kids and her husband know the truth.

http://www.sxc.hu/photo/479464

Image via stock.xchnge

Usually, these emotions don’t present all at the same time.  There’s a brief moment of weakness and then the joys of life take over.  The kids say the cutest thing, her husband does the dishes, complete strangers compliment her kids’ manners, she answers 75% of the questions on Jeopardy, there are clean spoons, or when somebody asks her how she feels she can honestly answer, “Great!”  These are the normal ups and downs of motherhood–life spent in the slightly hazy outskirts of mom fog.

Then there are the unusual times.  When all these emotions are weighing so heavily, it’s difficult to get out of bed.  And that is where I’ve been for the past month or so.  I’ve been walking around in a mom fog so dense I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. I suppose it’s a kind of depression.  Luckily, it’s the situational kind.  I know why I’m depressed and I know what to do about it.

I have lived away from “home” for 9 years.  I get back every once in a while for a completely inadequate amount of time for the things I want to do and the people I want to see.  I miss my family and friends.  It’s normally just a vague feeling in the back of my mind that occasionally moves to the forefront when I stop and think too much.  Usually, I’m too busy to dwell on it.  Lately, it’s been thrown in my face.

First of all, having kids is a constant trip down memory lane.  Every birthday reminds me of my childhood at that particular age.  Every slumber party revives the memories of late nights giggling, gossiping, and swooning over boys both “real” and famous.  Every goofball thing my kids say and do reminds me of the goofball things I did as a kid.  It’s impossible not to compare my experiences with theirs.

Then there’s the stupid wonderful thing that is Facebook.  I get to read what my family and friends are doing without me.  A simple status update of “Best girls night out EVER” reminds me of what I’m missing and nearly brings me to tears.

Worst of all, there’s The Blog.  I started Momfog as a way to combat mom fog–an outlet for frustration and creativity, a way to connect to adults, a way to discuss non-kid-related subjects.  It worked.  For a while.  Then I started using a writing prompt–RemembeRED.  I love doing it.  I read some fantastic writing and get some feedback for my own.  But it’s all about memoir.  I’m forced to look back on my childhood and the constant stream of memories only make me more homesick.  It started with The Games of Life which made me think of my best friend and cousin (the writer of the offending Facebook status) and my mamaw.  That made me think of my grandma, aunts and uncles, and my other cousins.  That led me to write My Old Kentucky Home.  That only made things worse.  The fog that I thought was harmless and amusing became an ever-present, black, suffocating thing.  I thought I was doomed to wander aimlessly in it forever.

And then I got the phone call.

My dear daddy is going to help me come home.  My husband has graciously agreed he can survive two weeks without me and the kids.  He’s even got a plan for the food situation.  He’s going to take advantage of his female co-workers’ sympathy and beg leftovers.  I sincerely hope he’s joking, but after tasting the Korean egg rolls he brought home, I’m not sure I’d blame him for trying.  His mother has also offered to let him come to her house if he gets lonely.  It’s comical, really.  The man can cook and I’m sure he will fare just fine in the loneliness department.  He’ll have his mistress to keep him busy.  I’m speaking of golf, of course.  Two weeks of as much golf as he can handle with absolutely no one to gripe about it?  Yeah, I’m sure he’ll suffer greatly while I’m gone.

So, just like that, the fog has lifted.  I wasn’t depressed.  Not really.  I just wanted to go home, see my family, and have a girl’s night out with old friends.  Guess what?  I feel like cleaning my house from top to bottom.  Maybe I’ll watch a Lifetime “men are evil” movie and thank my lucky stars for my husband, who may not say “You complete me” out loud but shows me in a million subtle ways that I do.  When my kids are fighting and doing their best to make me lose my marbles, I’ll attack them with kisses and get them on the ground for a good ol’ tickle fight.  No feelings of inadequacy, no guilt, and no yelling.

Until I have to spend 12 hours alone in the car with them, anyway.