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The TRUTH About Motherhood

Tag: daughters

  • Queen of the Masses

    Lately, its been a real chore to get my 2 year old, Gabs, to sit quiet and still during mass. I’m sure it has something to do with her being 2, her being bored, it being spring, and a laundry list of other reasons. The main reason being that she is 2. I am lucky enough to go to a church with , what I’d consider, to be one of the highest kid to adult ratios. In fact, I am sure there are more children then there are adults. When children’s liturgy convenes, at minimum, 2/3rds of the church disappears. Yes, they are true Catholics. Some parents have as many as 8 children. God bless them. I have 2 and it feels like 10. What must eight feel like? 40? These women look relatively beautiful and composed. I think I may be one of the most disheveled of the bunch. I always come to mass armed; snack, drink, book, baby, barbie. We normally don’t sit in the crying room because well, the entire church is a crying room (refer to inordinate amount of children:) The girls come in and sit right down in their pretty little matching dresses ( yes, I am one of those Moms. My girls match. Hey, they are 2 and 5, really, how much longer will I be able to do this? Don’t feel too sorry for them. I don’t dress them funny or anything.) and they sit down. They look so innocent. I always think hope that this will be the day. This will be the day they behave for the entire mass. One can dream. Gabs normally gets bored about 3 minutes in; as soon as everyone stands up and she can’t see. I offer to pick her up. I really do. But if her big sister is standing, then darn it, so is she. Then we sit. She starts asking for snacks, quite loudly. “MOmmmmmma…me WANT snack!” Me (whispering. dying of embarrassment): “One second sweetie. Wait til Father is finished with the opening prayer,please.” Gabs: “NOW!!” Yes, I am pretty sure all 5 rows surrounding us, front and back have heard. Hell, let’s be honest…Father heard and now my secrets out. I’m letting my kids snack in church. Shame on me. Last weekend, the bulletin asked that “all parishioners”  keep their area of pews picked up before leaving mass; not leaving behind any wrappers, crumbs, etc. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was referring to the Cheerios that rain down all over that church. Oops! At least I’m not the only one. I try to keep them picked up but I swear those things have legs. I am bringing one of those tiny hand held Dustbuster in my purse next time. I wonder how they would feel about me leaving behind a child:)
    Anyways, so that is mass. Gabs making up words to all the hymns. Worse yet, she thinks it is hilarious to sing louder than anyone else around her. Her sister, Bella, she doesn’t always sing but she likes to get her groove on at church. She dances and sometimes she tries to make others dance as well (like unsuspecting little copy cat toddlers, who giggle with delight, as I get shot a “can’t you keep your kid still” stare. NO, NO I Can’t. Can you?” As long as it is relatively quiet and and the girls pay as much attentions as their little brains can muster, I am good. A+ for effort. Then, when I think its safe and we are almost outta that joint  until the next weekend, time for Eucharist. The most holy time of the entire mass. The receiving of blessings and the body and blood of Christ. I look forward to it. It helps get me through to the next weekend. The girls always want to accompany me; they think the blessing received from the Father is the best (even though they both have been known to try and swipe a little body of Christ). We head up to the front of church in a line that lasts for about 15 minutes (its a huge church with all these wonderful parents and the plethora of children that they are blessed with). The whole time ,I am praying “Please God just let me make it to Father and safely back to the return trip to my pew!” I know you are thinking , why doesn’t she leave those brats in the pew. Seriously, you know what would happen. They’d scream the entire time.
    This past week, we went to the front. The girls were perfect. They received their blessings, said amen, and promptly turned to return to our seats. I see the light of the open door at the back of the church and I think to myself..one more week, I made it. We’re safe. Or so  I thought. As we are walking back, I am in holy hang your head enjoy the moment mode. I look up and I notice everybody smiling, on the verge of giggling. What the heck. Is my dress tucked in my panties. That’s not very Christian….Help a sister out. Then I see the eyes are fixed on my Gabs. My deliciously wonderful, over the top, not giving a shit what anybody thinks..Gabs! Apparently, she thought she had been elected Queen of the Mass. She was walking down the aisle doing the beauty queen wave to all her loyal subjects, complete with big cheesy Vaseline smile! OMG!!!! I can’t take these kids anywhere.

  • Love is….

    My 5 year old just saw this posting and said, “You are not posting those pictures of me!”
    Me: “Yes, I am. Why?”
    5 yo,”Because I look like a FREAK! Look at that bandaid!”
    At this point I am losing it. ( Really, the “bandaid” that’s what she thinks is making her look like a FREAK:) LOL What about the GIANT Bunny head? I think they both look adorable.That’s why I titled this post LOVE IS…. because they are my absolute LOVE (even when they are driving me bonkers)!

  • Taking matters into her own hands!

    Me: “Gabs, why did you do that?”
    Gabs: “Because me wanted you to paint my nails.You said no! Me paint my own nails!”
    Well, what can I say. When she’s right, she’s right! This is what happens when a two year old takes matters into her own hands…literally!

  • Beauty Hacks to Avoid: When Home Waxing Becomes Deadly

    Beauty Hacks to Avoid: When Home Waxing Becomes Deadly

    Have you ever had a home waxing go bad?

    I mean, we’ve all had the wax burn, accidental over wax of the eyebrows and many of us have looked at that damn hairy strip of cloth and thought for one small second, Really? Why am I doing this? I am married to a man whose back is harrier than my head, occasionally farts when he sleeps and OMG, the man cold. But still, we do it because who the hell wants their partner to think they are gross, plus I don’t want to be hairy. Like I’ve told my girls since they were born, beauty is pain. I want to prepare them for when they are 13 and I want to pluck rogue eyebrows or dark lip hairs. Thankfully they are blonde so hopefully they won’t share in my unsightly five o’clock shadow lip quandary.

    Ok, since I am running late..always and can not find the time to spare to take care of myself, in the way  in which I am accustom to, I have had to resort to some home remedies. Ok, Moms you know what I am talking about. The Pedegg, home manicures, pedicures, home dye jobs, and even home waxing. God Bless you Nads!

    It seems my Pedro has been getting quite out of control…upstairs girls not downstairs. We’ve had the fu manchu mishap, it’s been hardwoods ever since.  I am referring to my ever so slightly hairy monkey lip that I so lovingly refer to as my womanstache! OK, so you say you’ve never seen me with this atrocity. Of course not, silly girl. I don’t go in public when the fuzz is a showin. Well, not usually, anyways. It’s just one of my many blessings of being a Latina woman, come on my Greek and Italian girlfriends..you feel me, right? No way we get to have all that flowing hair and curves and not get a sin tax in the form of waxing. Beauty is pain, people.

    Anyways, this morning, I hit my hairy monkey threshold. Pedro had to be dealt with.  I go to the bathroom to do “the deed”. Waxing. What were you thinking? Oh how I hate  being the one to do it. I flinch and sometimes I almost don’t want to pull the strip. I always flash back to the 40 Year Old Virgin..yeah, that’s what my lip feels like when I do it myself. I think its mostly mental, but whatever it is…it hurts.

    This morning my 2 and 5-year-old follow me into the bathroom, big surprise. What you think I’ve peed alone in the past 5 years? Nope, I’m just like you. I live under the watchful  eyes of voyeuristic little people. They’ve seen me get waxed at the salon, as they are always with me. There is not much I can hide from them. Mommy’s special “Bandaids” for her “monthly vagina booboos”, phantom farts ( because I swear, IT WAS THE DOG) and even my uneven breasts which, I might add my 2-year-old is very disappointed in what gravity and breastfeeding have done to them.We are a very transparent family so if the poor dears have inherited my hairy chihuahua gene they should know what they have to look forward to.

    Anyways, my 5-year-old, she is asking all the right waxing questions. How does that work? Does that go on your face? Doesn’t that hurt? Smart cookie. I get into gotta do it mode, put that lovely little wax strip on my face ( I forgot the desensitizing  wipe because of the fear and trepidation of pulling the strip..it must be how a soldier feels right before pulling the pin in a grenade). ** I mean no disrespect to soldiers, I know it’s much more frightening  handling a live grenade than it is a hairy lip but for me, it’s pretty traumatic.

    I glance over at my girls, they both have their hands over their ears like the damn hear no evil monkeys. I’m  not sure if its because they are  afraid that I am going to scream in pain and anguish or in anticipation of ear muffs due to the obscenities that may accompany such pain. I chuckle. Of  course, I chuckle. It’s hilarious that my kids know me so well.

    In unison, as I muster the courage to pull the strip, I hear..”Hey! Ho! Let’s Go…to the waxing show!”

    My little boogers..I cracked up so hard, I nearly ripped my nose off! Thanks Rock Band. As of late, my 2 year old can put anything to the tune of Blitzkrieg Bop by the Ramones! I am so proud.

    Hope my nose grows back.

    What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve had to do in front of your kids?

    Did it involve home waxing? 😉

     

  • “Stinky Old Peopleness”

    So, I just walked out of the shower and was promptly attacked by the overwhelming scent of too much perfume. Apparently, my 2  year old had taken it upon herself to bathe in my Very Irresistible by Givenchy. (Apparently , not so Very Irresistible in large quantities!) Now, I know we all know this familiar scent when someone has put on too much perfume. Either we have done it ourselves out of poor judgment, or had the misfortune of being stuck in a car or a room with someone who obviously has a broke sniffer. (Its usually those same unfortunate women who don’t have mirrors in their houses!) My point is, we’ve all been there. It’s not a nice smell. Before I could reprimand or say anything to my 2 year old, my 5 year old comes waltzing into my bedroom and ( while holding her nose, no less) she very dramatically says, “EWWWWW, MOMMY! Stinky Old PEOPLENESS!” Obviously, I am a little immature and I broke into laughter immediately. I think my judgment is skewed because I am giddy with excitement to see my husband tonight. This out of town business/ single mother during the week crap is for the birds. Then I wondered, how did she relate the two? And how did she come up with that term? She is, after all, only 5. Apparently my snarky little mini me apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She has ,of late, become quite the expert on Oldies. A couple days ago, my MIL was coming to visit. We had the two days planned full of activities. I was reviewing with the girls and said, “Well, sweetie, we may have to scale back this list of activities. Mommy is getting old!” To which my sweet 5 year old answers, ” NAH, MOMMY, you are NOT OLD. Grandma…now she’s old!” Oye vey, thank God Granny hadn’t arrived yet. This little light of mine…she always lets it shine. I think I’ve come to realize she has inherited Mommy’s filter, or should I say lack there of.


     
    Warning; Image above is wonderful in moderation! In large doses may cause “Stinky Old Peopleness!”

  • This is My WORLD!

                                         THIS IS…….. LOVE!

  • In like a Lion; out like a Lamb

    Some days it rains. Other days it pours and in between there is always a little bit of the most amazing sunshine; this statement is very appropriate for a Midwestern spring but it is also applicable to Motherhood. I guess it’s safe to say that Motherhood is like a Midwestern spring; beautiful, wet, unexpected, and wonderful…most of the time and other times…wet, soggy, dingy, dirty, and bleak. Or if it is a really special day, you can experience all of it in a given 24 hour period. I am reminded of this for two reasons simultaneously, today it poured rain while the sun poked through occasionally…just to get my hopes up.Much like my 5 year old who fights me tooth and nail at bedtime every single night, but once every week she goes to bed with no argument, no noise, no screaming. Those nights I cherish, just like those bits of hopeful sunshine peeping through the clouds. Or the continuous string of “no”s that fire from my 2 year old’s mouth, no matter what I ask her. But once every so often I get a surprising “Yes, Mama!” Those are my moments of hope. Hope that I survive these days , when the rain feels like a torrential downpour. That I survive having everything I am sucked right out of me. The moments of unconditional love, the little arms “wringing my neck” ( what we refer to in our household as a really good hug:), someone looking at me completely helpless but looking at me like I have the answers to all the world’s mysteries, a sleeping child cuddled next to me, a giggle from the tub, a “Mama, you are my best friend in the world”..these moments of sunshine make all the rain forgotten. Perhaps that is why when I am having such a time trying to wrangle them to bed and I feel like all hope is lost…and my mind is soon to follow….all it takes is a flash of those adorable little smiles and an “I love you Mama!” and all is right with the world! I’m such a sucker.Like spring in the Midwest, what starts out like a Lion..ends up like a Lamb.

  • My Girl

    There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child.  There are seven million.  ~Walt Streightiff

  • Truthful Tuesdays, March 30,2010; Mommy Breakdown in Progress

    It’s Tuesday once again. Time for us to unload some of the things weighting us down in life. No judgment, just an ear to bend, a shoulder to cry on, and a helpful hand to help you up when you feel as if you have fallen in the proverbial crap of life. I missed last week, but I need to expunge today!
    Let’s start by confessing that I am a miserable sick person. When I am sick, I just want to be left alone in a dark room to sleep it all away. Just let me sleep for a week straight with nothing but liquids pushed under the door to keep me alive. I know I’ve been cranky and grouchy with the girls.Hell,I even called my husband at work 3 states away to unleash my miserableness on him. Not my proudest moment. Sorry. I even bit my brothers head off, who is visiting and helping me with my girls this week. I am truly a wench!
    I also would like to confess that it’s a little embarrassing walking around town with my little brother (who is 19) and my 2 girls because people are looking at us as if 1) he is my “boyfriend  or husband” and I am a friggin cradle robber .Ewww, gross! Or  2) I am his Mother! Which is equally as EWWWW, because it makes me feel not only old but like I was promiscuous in my early teen years, to boot. Which I don’t really care about  now except for how hard I worked to obtain that ‘Good Catholic girl’ image back then. The worst part is either way you slice it..it makes ME feel old!
    Next, this list could go on for days this week, I am about to tear my hair out with all this crap I am having to do by myself. It is making me feel overwhelmed and like I can’t accomplish anything I start, like I am a loser! I know I usually bite off more than I can chew (its the nature of the beast) but I muddle through , spread myself as thin as possible, and I get it done. That’s me!It’s how I work. But this week, for some reason, I feel like a bumbling idiot who can’t get anything done. My husband is encouraging me to eliminate some of my extracurriculars with the girls, so I don’t have a meltdown. I get insulted that he thinks I can’t do it all. WTH is going on with me? He may be right, at least this week. I’ve worn myself, metaphorically, paper thin and one wrong pull may be the one that breaks me down.
    Thank God for Truthful Tuesdays and wonderful friends.If it weren’t for your emails, phone calls, texts, comments and unconditional love and support…I’d have hit my breakdown threshold a long time ago!

  • Love letter to my daughters

    Ella, on the day you were born, I giggled uncontrollably. So many emotions flooded my mind that all I could do was laugh and weep, tears of joy. I fell in love with you the moment I looked into those deep blue eyes. You looked into my soul and changed me forever.You will always be my love and my heart. With every moment that I am given to be your Mommy, my love for you grows deeper and I can’t even remember my life before you. It was as if I never even existed. As you grow more independent, I can feel you pulling slowly away even at your young age. I promise to always give you room to blossom and grow but to be there to lift you up when you fall. And know this, you will ALWAYS be my baby. You may be outgrowing my lap but never will you outgrow my love.

    Abs, on the day you were born, I couldn’t stop smiling. It started off a little rocky; we had to have a back up video camera special delivered into the hospital room to capture your birth. You didn’t want to come out, so we had to have a little help in the form of the Texas roll and a nurse laying on my stomach to help push you out.But when you came into this world with your eyes open wide and bright, taking in the entire world in one fail swoop, I knew you were my joy and my smile.Every single day since, you have grown my heart with love and filled my life with joy. Your smile melts me. You are also so obstinate and independent that you break my heart and scare me to death on a daily basis with your constant shenanigans. You will always be my little hell on wheels in pink taffeta and a helmet. At the same time, you are the light of my life and without you and your sister, I could not exist. You are my oxygen; my reason, my life!

    All my Love for all of my Life,
    Mommy XOXO