The Playroom

Playrooms are actually pits made out of toys. Located in a forgotten room that you want your kids to get lost in to give you a moment of freedom or peace and quiet. However they actually turn into these gigantic messes that you find yourself lost in cleaning. Crap from wall to wall.


Oddly enough my kid's playroom doubles as my workout area. This morning, as I mastered the poses of downward dog and warrior two I looked around at the sleeping chaos around me as my kids were still in their beds. Gross. A forgotten pink toothbrush lay just peeking out from under our garage sale find lazy boy. Stale Cheerios spot the carpet around the edges of a cabinet swelling with toys. Mickey Mouse hangs from the synthetic hair of a pony while his clubhouse lay open and disheveled across the room. In the middle of the room is a small trampoline frayed and tattered from daily jumping. Under the trampoline a puzzle piece that belongs in a box that no longer exists. A play kitchen stands against the wall holding odds and ends, from fake plastic food to magnetic letters to what my kids deemed acceptable on their menu the previous day. Captain America, Spiderman and Hulk are having a debate on a pink fleece chair. 


To the untrained eye these items strewed across this open room may look like a land of misfit toys from a fairy tale, but to my kids it's their world, their treasures, their cherished pieces of childhood. As much as this room drives my organized driven, control freak mind crazy I relish in the love and innocence smeared across every inch.  There are definitely days that I want to take a couple of large black trash bags and fill them with half of this room, but after doing a "summer cleaning" of this room to sell at a consignment sale I found that I was just as attached to these misfit pieces of wonder as my children were. Each piece carries a memory and/or milestone of my kids or a moment that solidify our bond as a family through play.

Directions

In the story of the chef I spoke of yesterday the reverend depicted another scene. After choosing the easy route of making the dessert and being called out on it by a colleague the chef walks out of the restaurant. As he looks up to the large clock that looks over the town, an inscription under the face reads "A time to do well".  The chef takes it as a life sign and a direction to take. He decides to make a truer commitment.  Again I am faced with my own questions of if I am fulfilling a commitment? Am I living fully?


When we wake we are given each day. With that day we are given choices. Choices to make new decisions and to take new directions. It's never too late to change our minds. When we start saying yes to a new beginning we start welcoming a richness to life as well. Taking this to heart I know that I need to make a truer commitment. I've been given this life of love and happiness, what can I give back? To whom do I give back to?


Opening a door to an unknown choice is scary and I worry what change is on the other side. I feel restless in my heart and know that opening THAT door to a new direction is the answer to bring peace to my inner noise.

From Mother to Mom

After not attending church for three months I decided to attend this morning at 9 am sans the family. With my husband not being the church going type and my little ones being so little, after talking with my mother in-law I came to the conclusion that it was something that I may just needed to do on my own rather than giving it up to match my family's wants. So I made sure every one was fed, got dressed and headed over. For some, church is just an absolute or a way of life that you just do. For me, it's different. For me it's an hour to myself, my thoughts and my higher power. A time when my heart, mind and prayers combine in one breath. It becomes almost a time of meditation and once I leave I always feel refreshed. I figured that after the last couple of months that I have had as a mom and as a woman that if I heard something that hit a chord I was in the right direction of where I was going.


Sitting in the last pew I listened while going in between my own thoughts, the words being said and written in the bulletin. Then the sermon came entitled "A Change of Mind." As the reverend spoke the wheels of my head and heart began to turn and spark.  He told a story about a cook who was looking to be a chef and the journey he took. After traveling across the world, taking a position at a 5 star Italian restaurant he was asked to create a meal for some well known foodies. He had the option to either make a fillet of fresh fish that he had never worked with or to serve a dessert the restaurant was well known for and that he had made numerous times before. He chose the latter. But when asked by a dear friend as to why he didn't take the risk of making the filet and making the leap from just a cook to a chef, rather than just going through the motions of what he already knew how to do, it hit him that he was moving in any direction at all to fulfillment of his dreams.


In my head this translates "from cook to chef" to "from mother to mom." I know how to be a mother, I know how to cook, clean, change diapers, give baths, give medicines, check books out a the library, successfully do school drop-off and pick-up and all the rest of it. But was I a mom? Have I taken the leap from mother to mom? Was I fulfilling that dream and staying true to my commitment? Because a mom does all a mother can do but does it with love. A mom gives hugs and kisses, read stories, plays, tickles, listens, holds hands, teaches and protects and so much more.


As I go over these separate checklists in my head I know that I am at fault for just being a mother on some days but then I know that there are days when I am the best mom. When I am broken, tired and stressed it's hard to be a mom and not just a mother. But then again I am human. My kids love me and I love them. My husband loves me and I love him. God loves me and I love him. But I also love myself, so even though I strive to travel in the direction of becoming  a mom more so than just a mother, I do give myself permission to just be a mother on the days that I can't be a mom. My kids will still love me and they will still be cared for even if I don't make a craft that day. But I also challenge those who haven't taken that leap from mother to mom, who don't stop to breathe in the smell of their children or hug and kiss their dirty little faces. It all disappears so fast, don't let it go without living it through the eyes of a mom rather than just a mother.

Struggle

I find myself thinking back to Bax's first two years more and more, in regards to how much I enjoyed myself and all that we learned and did together. Now as the twins reach two years old in December trying to do a replica of the experiences I had with my first born seem to be a far fetched dream than an achievable reality. Don't get me wrong, I am sure there are these supermoms of twins out there that can handle their toddler twins and four year old like Tim Gunn handles weirdo designers with low self esteem, but I'm not that supermom. I'm that mom who is stuffing peanut butter snack crackers in their kids mouth as I look for the nearest coffee shop.


Let's take a time travel trip to the fall of 2010. Apple fests, pumpkin patches, hayrides, petting zoos? If it was in 10 minutes of our house we were there with little Braxton taking a gazillion pictures and holding hands. Like the front of a Hallmark card. Fast forward to fall 2014. One twin is shoving dirt into a goats mouth rather than petting zoo feed, the other is running down a hill screaming at camels as she tries to make a run for it through an opening in the fence. Who's four year old is that with his shirt on backwards and shouting about the huge slide ride? Oh that's mine too. All three off spring running in different directions, interested in different things, because after all they are very, very different individuals from one another.


I want to punch a pumpkin. But then I'm brought back to reality, I love my kids and I love their dirty faces and germy hands. I love watching my baby girl swell over her first pony ride. I love watching her twin brother stick his chubby hands in the mouth of a goat as he squeals with delight. I love watching my four year old slide down a slide that I am way too chicken to do on my own. All their craziness will soon be tamed and they will be teenagers who won't even want to hang out at "Sonny Acres" on a Saturday morning. So I wipe the PB off my hands and take a deep breath, buy a white pumpkin as my twins shout "BALL" and throw their small gourd pumpkin across the "country barn store." We hurry out to make it to Brax's soccer game in time.


Its hard not to lose yourself as a mom, especially a twin mom. It's a constant struggle. I also don't want to lose my children's childhood moments either. Such struggles. I am blessed with such turmoil, I'm lucky enough  to be a mommy. I just gotta pull up my big girl pants and realize each day is zooming by and one day I will get to be selfish again but right now I need to be selfless for my kids because they are my heart no matter the struggle I feel within.

Funny Fridays

Finding the funny in being a mommy. I've decided to make Fridays a day of rejoicing in the funny (even the crap that didn't seem so funny at the time) of the week. So here we go:


1. Brax sleeping in just a white undershirt, undies and Spiderman leg warmers.
2. Realizing Brax wore the same leg warmers to school under his pants and to the park.
3. Ripping a hole in the ass of my pants at the park and having to walk all the way home with part of my butt cheek exposed.
4. Attending library story time with all three kiddos and as all the kids participated in listening and dancing to the "scarf song," Travis stood in front of the group completely still with a scarf over his head for 3 whole minutes. Creepy or funny???
5. Travis getting so mad at Hailey he took her by both top of the head pig tails and pulled as hard as he could.
6. While Braxton peed into the toilet Travis grabbed at Brax's "little guy" which caused pee to shoot up at Travis and all over the bathroom.
7. 30 minutes after giving the kids a bath and blow drying Hailey's hair, as she at down to eat dinner she took the gravy on her plate and raked it through the left side of her face and hair. WTF???
8. Getting an email from Brax's soccer coach informing us that the team sponsor would be treating the kids to Dairy Queen after the Saturday game. His sponsor is a dentist ... hidden agenda???
9. One of the rare times I showered and was standing in front of the mirror applying mascara I hear Brax yell "Mom, Travis is standing on the table!!"'


As a follow up to yesterday ... the mom of the little girl was not at drop off or pickup, it was the dad. I should have FOR SURE said something on Wednesday. Hopefully I will have the chance to extend a friendly greeting in the near future. Everything happens for a reason, right?

I should have said something ...

When I picked Braxton up from school yesterday there was a mom crying. I noticed it as I entered the room. She was by herself and was covering her face as she leaned down to speak to her little girl near her cubbie. Her face was full of pain and her little girl looked wide eyed and confused. The woman hugged her little girl close and kept smoothing her hair. It's been bugging me for the last 24 hours. I was going to ask her if she was okay, put a hand on her shoulder to let her know that I was there. But I didn't. How foolish. I just let her go on hugging her little girl and as they walked out she carried her in her arms to the car. I wonder what was wrong and hope and pray that it isn't too serious. I should have said something, sometimes us moms just need a reassuring voice or a look to know that someone is there and sees us when we are hurting. I hope to see her tomorrow. To ask if she is okay and also a selfish part of me wants to be reassured that in seeing her and her little girl that whatever was wrong isn't completely terrible and that they are there to have a "normal" day. I should have said something. Damnit.

Shake Me Up

Anyone else tired? I need something to shake me up. Seriously. I feel like I should be doing some great craft with my kids or baking some Paleo treat but all I want to do is grab a Dairy Queen hot fudge sundae and sit on the couch and watch Downton Abbey or my DVR recordings. How can I be so sleepy from raising children? Where has my motivation gone this week. Having a cold could be part of my lack of "being in the moment mommy" ... it's touch taking care of three little ones when there is no one to take care of you or to really care that you have the sniffles or your ears feel like someone is sticking sippy cup straws down their canals and blowing. Being a mommy is tough sometimes and it is sometimes hard to find the funny in mommy when "mommy" is said with a whine or a scream at the end. So what to do? Count my blessings or think of the things that make me happy? How about a happy list .... old school sitcoms, pumpkin treats, fall afternoons, rainy mornings, coffee, my mom's hugs, my kids laughing, my husband's sense of humor, a really good book, a really hot bath, snow, boots, jeans, a good hair day, the Food Network, a day when everything goes to plan, pumpkin patches, Christmas tree farms, yoga, the sun, sharing a common bond, a really good daytime talk show, the game show network, old friends, new friends, nut butters, pinterest, new clothes, new shoes, a manicure, a pedicure, being pregnant, being good with NOT being pregnant, cold weather, donuts, coffee shops, coupon clipping, clean floors, folded laundry, new sheets, nap time, long walks. I'm starting to feel better already ... plus I just realized it is nap time and Downton Abbey is in the DVD player and I have a whole playroom to clean. Three cheers for a mommy with a cold finding the happy in the afternoon.

What does bravery mean to me?

What does bravery mean to me? Bravery through self-acceptance in all facets of life. Brave enough to accept comfort in our own skin no matter the shape and size. Self-acceptance in our thoughts, those that are kind and those that are harsh. Self-acceptance in the words we pass to loved ones, especially our children. Every screenshot of social media and page of popular magazines tell us that we should feel no shame in saying no to others but saying yes to ourselves takes a little more… A little more weight loss, a little more lipstick, a little more leather and silk, a little more toys and activities for our children, a little more furniture in our home and a little more house to hold more things. What if we all were brave enough to stop saying yes to “a little more” and started accepting things the way they were. To be brave enough to be happy with what we have and who we are in the moment rather than looking to the “little more.”