Mothers Day

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Some people think Mothers Day is a Hallmark holiday. I say it is a necessary thing to honor the woman who gave me life and who refrained from taking it away during those tumultuous teenage years. Heck, as a mom myself, I have realized there is a reason God makes babies cute and snugly, and little boys covered in dirt and mud adorable. It’s to keep us from going crazy when they track huge clumps of dirt through the house, or when they refuse to plunge the toilet they clogged up or… the list goes on.

Honor your mother and the mother of your children. Your partner may not be your mother, but it is always nice to be appreciated for doing a hard job well. Here is a hint: ask her how she wants to celebrate. Some people like surprises, and if you know your partner well, then go for it. A few things I have noticed over the years:

  • Mothers of young children typically like to be pampered. They rarely get the chance because they are so busy taking care of everyone else. Find that guilty pleasure and make sure it happens. Reach out to a good girlfriend and arrange for them to do something together, if that is her thing (mani/pedi, movie, whatever floats her boat.) Personally, I want a nap and a nice dinner I don’t have to cook or clean up after.
  • Mothers of older children, especially mothers who work outside the home (Ages 10 +) typically want to spend time with their kids. We don’t get enough time to really enjoy our kids. Between chores, cooking and errands, a nice time to really connect with our kids is priceless. Plan a family game night or a hike or go geo caching. It doesn’t have to be high dollar, just high value.

Finally, to all those mothers out there. Speak up. Be heard. If you want to do something special for your holiday, ask for it. Too often we don’t ask for what we really want/need. Make it affordable and make it enjoyable. Then, commit to doing the same for your partner when his day rolls around. It isn’t all about us, we are a team. You both are doing a great job of raising those kids. Acknowledge the hard job we all have and give credit for the amazing humans we are going unleash upon the world.

 

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Guilt trip, the next best trip on a holiday weekend

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I swear I am not as crazy as my mother. This was the mantra that got me through high school. Then I have kids and realize, we are not oceans apart, but puddles, only puddles. Must be the history or shared genetics (whatever), but I usually understand where she is coming from. Which is a MAJOR upgrade from high school.

Fast forward XX (not to be disclosed) years since high school and my kids are spending the summer at Grandma and Grandpa’s farm. The boys are in heaven. Dirt to dig, baby goats to hold and bunnies to pet. Not to mention, swimming in the old horse water tanks. Then, I bought tickets to visit and bring my kids home. I planned to spend a whole 10 days of sleeping in bliss, cooking I don’t have to do and playing time with the kiddos (mine, not the baby goats).

That is, until I got a phone call from my dad. He told me to shop my resume around their town to see if I wanted to move there. (I have no idea WHY he ever thought I would want to move to Nebraska because I don’t.) His reasoning, if I moved to their town in Nebraska, they could see the kids every day, and I could have more time with the kids. My response was to tell him that I didn’t need to move 1/2 way across the country to spend time with my children, I could move closer to my job or find another one closer to my current home. Either way, this would work as well.

Then he dropped the bomb… he said my kids need a parent. As if, by working outside the home, I lost the right to call myself a mother to my children. When they are sick, I stay home. When they have a field trip, I schedule a day off. When they have track meets, and school programs, I leave work early to attend. Yet, I am not a parent. I pack their lunches, follow up on homework on the weekend and teach them how to vacuum so their future spouse will LURVE me. Yet, according to my parents, this is not enough. It is not enough to provide food, clothing, shelter and love – but I must also provide shorter working hours and easy access to grandparents.

Nope, I have lived in this state longer than they have lived on that farm. They want access to the kids, come visit – or wait for me to save up /help me to pay for plane tickets for them to visit you. So, I changed my reservations.

Now, instead of spending 10 days having fun in Nebraska with my parents and my kids, I am spending 3. After I called this last week and one of the kids was napping till 7pm and didn’t go to bed till 10pm, I realized I would need that extra week of leave, at home, to de-grandmatize my kids. Otherwise I could never get their schedules re-aligned and their gastro-intestinal habits used to eating vegetables again. And possibly, burn my ears over the inevitable, “that’s not how grandma does it” or “I like grandmas food better”.

We’re Twins, its the SAME slobber

I knew kids were gross. I knew they, especially boys, were covered in mud, spiders and snot. But sometimes, what I say to them or better yet, what they say to each other is nothing short of spectacular! Just the other day:

Sean: Mom can I have a drink out of your water bottle (Came out kind of like a grunt and a point

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with a please attached)

Archie: Im next (actual words, I was impressed)

Archie: Why is the straw all wet?

Sean: I just finished.

Archie: Ugh! (takes his shirt to wipe off the straw)

Sean: We are twins; it’s the same slobber.

Archie: Nope, your gross.

Yep, its the same slobber AND it’s pretty gross!