Mommy's Law

What is it about Murphy's law, 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong'? When you are a mom, you discover this is the truth. Your whole life becomes some anecdote to pass along to those thinking of having children, to prepare those young folk who are newly pregnant or to share among your mommy friends. Below is an example of how Mommy's law has played out for me... just in the last week.... most of it being yesterday.

• Your 2-year old will accidentally pee on the bathroom rugs, the same rugs you just finished cleaning from her peeing on them two days ago.


• Your mother-in-law will prepare your children for the demise of a sick cat by telling them 'the kitty will get a shot to go to sleep... forever'. When in reality she should have checked with you first because the cat just has diabetes and you have to give him a SHOT of insulin twice a day for the rest of his life. Now they want to watch me 'put the kitty to sleep' every time I get out the insulin.


• Not diversifying the baby's veggie diet from squash, carrots and sweet potatoes will result in her turning orange. It isn't a myth. (Note to self: Next week include some green veggies, Fin looks like an oompa-loompa)


• After cleaning up squash from a messy baby's face you will be out in public and have a complete stranger say, "Ewww, looks like someone has a bad ear infection", only to realize that they were talking about the large amount of now-dried squash you missed splattered your baby's ear and neck. How could I have missed that?!


• The one time you are on schedule to get the kids to school on time AND get to yoga class before it starts, you start your period for the first time in 18 months.


• The first time you start your period in 18 months and the toilet mysteriously overflows.


• The first time you ever saw the toilet overflow, clean it up and think "Could've been worse", you go downstairs to discover the water actually leaked through the floor, ceiling and all over your kitchen counter and stack of important paperwork you had to go through.


• You are once again late (REALLY LATE) dropping off child to school and making it to yoga class.


• The one night you can go shopping by yourself and your husband lets your children watch an episode of 'Nature' on venomous creatures right before bed.


• The one night you REALLY want to get to bed early your children will keep coming downstairs because they are afraid snakes and other venomous creatures are in their bedroom.


• You can vacuum twice a day, every day and a new crawler will see the one piece of sock toe jam you missed and put it in her mouth before you can get it from her.


• It's gross enough to make your two year old child spit out what they are chewing on (assuming it's a piece of a puzzle), only for her to tell you it's a booger.


• When you are at the end of your rope, a child they will do something so genuinely sweet, like take your angry face in both hands, kiss both cheeks and say, "I love you Mama". And then reduce you to tears.

Time for me to take a deep breath, laugh it off and prepare for what the next week of Mommy's Law will bring. For now I need to go throw some pee-soaked rugs in the wash.

Gettin' Fixed

This last week marked an anniversary of sorts, the anniversary of getting canned. Or the 'great dawn of the new age' from which this whole wisdom in training thing has sprung. It seems like I have been getting asked a lot lately what I do. It's strange because I find it increasingly difficult to answer. My 'previous' life, as I like to call it, the one where I worked as a designer, keeps getting more distant and foreign. It would seem an obvious thing that as time floats on your experiences would get cloudy, but it's different than that. It's much more like a hyper-humping dog that's been neutered and now sits contently in a trance state and the owner doesn't quite know if the dog is happy or contemplating suicide now his manhood has been surgically removed. And there's that mixture of relief and sadness that people passing by have for that now non-humping dog that his youthful vibrancy is gone but their legs and small children remain safe. Yeah, it's kind of like that.

Too much of an analogy?

You would think that two years would have solved some of these identity issues that have been written about since this blog has started. And it has. The issue is that I realize now its much deeper than I anticipated. I anticipated that I would have a third child stay at home for a few years til the economy got better and then go back to work and try my best to fit back in to that old lifestyle. Buuuut... I don't know now. It's like now that craziness of trying to be super-woman was surgically removed, I kind of like staying at home on the porch and watching the world go by. I just hate the sad eyes of everyone who passes me by, thinking I'm just a shadow of my former self.

That was totally deep huh?

I think we all see ourselves in a role. And mine was to follow in the footsteps that were laid before me. My mother gave birth to me and almost immediately went back to work. She had 'activities' every night of the week, she was a volunteer paramedic, active in the church choir, visited old people, on every committee which requested her, and attended almost all my school activities. A pillar of the community. They were able to pay for my college and retire and continue to live comfortably. She lived the dream.

But she was tired, grumpy. She resented my father at every turn. There was never a family dinner together, no vacations, no chats about how our lives were going. Things were at the very least extremely tense when I was a teenager because I didn't trust her, there was no connection. And to be honest, I never thought it could have been any different, until now.

I was on that same path, I think. My mother was a very good role model for me in what to do for my community, her attitude in that respect is still something I admire. But when I found myself so exhausted and overwhelmed, I started to remember how it made me feel as a kid. As proud as I was at her accomplishments, I still never really had that sense of family. The question is, which is more important to the development of our kids?

Being at home has taken the craziness out of my life. When that was removed, I saw the gaping holes I was leaving for my girls and their sense of home and value. The last two years have been about repairing those holes in my life and hopefully change the course of how my family is raised. I will always be eternally grateful that this anniversary of getting fixed/axed. It's just, where do I go from here?

(If any of you say 'get pregnant again' I'll leave you a flaming turd bag on your front porch.)

The Valentine That Almost Wasn't

Tonight I'm cooking meatloaf with a special sauce. I gave all three kids a bath including hair brushing, teeth brushing and the removal of ear wax (which simultaneously amazes and grosses me out). I neatly folded about two hundred white undershirts. tighty-whiteys and gym socks.

Typical daily chores? Yes and no. These are my 'gifts of love' to my husband. He's a lucky man don't you think? I do, especially since I should have dumped him after our first Valentine's Day together 16 years ago.

It was 1995, our senior year, right at the end of an extremely successful boy's basketball season. I was a cheerleader and Ben was the star player of our state-ranked high school team. After years of being best friends, we had just crossed the threshold into 'more' with a first kiss just two weeks previous.

It was tricky because I really liked him 'in that way', but didn't want to scare him off with some psycho Valentine's display. I got him tape of Trisha Yearwood's single "I've Been Thinking About You", along with school sponsored pink and white carnations (meaning like and friendship) and a giant cookie baked by the home-ec class for a fundraiser. After receiving the flowers and cookies at school (he did the same for me except a RED carnation which meant 'love'!) he picked me up for the basketball game leaving my car at home. He would HAVE to take me home that night after the game, just as he had been doing for well over a month. I would then give him the tape. It was setting up to be the perfect first Valentine's.

The boy's team had a win that Tuesday night at home. It was a wonderful night and I was so excited to see Ben. There was pizza for the cheerleaders afterwards sponsored by a local pervert, I mean sponsor. After eating a few pieces I went to the restroom to freshen up my hair and make-up hoping to have the star of the basketball team mess it up soon after. I can say that now, we're married.

When I emerged in a cloud of hairspray, some of the basketball players (waiting on their own girlfriends) were polishing off the cheerleaders' pizza, but Ben was not with them. I figured he was down in the gym waiting. But when I got there, the only souls there were the janitors cleaning up after the sold-out crowd. I asked, but no one had seen Ben. Blah, blah, blah, fast forward about 15 minutes and I did the unthinkable, I called his house from the weight room phone. It's unthinkable because no amount of perfumed hairspray can beat the stench of a high school weight room.

When his Mom answered, in almost a chipper voice, she told me Ben had been at home for about 10 minutes (she wasn't a big fan of me). When he got on the line he said he thought I had gotten a ride and he was tired. 'Good night, see ya tomorrow.' Click. He didn't even offer to come back and get me... in fact, he didn't even wait for me to respond at all. WHAT?!?!

Thank goodness my favorite teacher who lived down the road from my house, was just leaving and gave me a lift. I loved that guy. 'Hot Rod', as we called him, let me bawl my eyes out about my botched Valentine's Day as his extremely patient 5 year old whispered from the backseat... "Daddy, can we go home now?"

I sent the tape with a friend to drop off at Ben's house, thinking it would make him feel bad. He was a teenage boy though, which meant he had no clue. He didn't call that night. He made no apologies the next day. In fact, 16 years later he still smirks and rolls his eyes about it.

I guess he knew something I didn't at that point. If he had gotten all sweet on me that first Valentine's Day, he would have set a precedent for which he would have to live up to and top every February 14th. Bravo Honey, way to set the bar low. Here's to many more years of understating our love.

Happy Valentine's Day all :)

Addiction and Mourning

It's winter.

I could end there. All things that used to be fun! and cozy! and magical! about winter are now stir crazy! and get me out! and my goodness child will you please just stay in your bed for once before I jump out a window!

It's winter.
And we're trapped with frigid temps, slick ice and various sicknesses.

I might just go drink myself to spring but then I would miss my baby. My precious 5 month old who in the midst of teething can manage to melt every icicle off the roof with her giggle.

For anyone that's had one baby you know how it changes you. It brings all sorts of new emotions to your life you never anticipated. Amongst those is anxiety and and uptight attitude until you eventually realize you fit into their life, they don't fit into yours. They will break you before rebuilding you, believe me.

For anyone that's had a second baby you discover the that although the work has increased, it's somehow better, because you know you'll get through it and you seem to enjoy this newborn thing much more than before. Anxiety starts to melt away.

For anyone who's had a third. You might just be addicted to the child that had most recently come into your family. At least this has been my experience. This little one has me wanting to wake up in the morning just to see her smile. I love watching her look up to her sisters and try to imitate them (most recently she learned to jump, it's their favorite 'sister' thing to do together). She has me ogling babies everywhere, it's not who I used to be. And to be honest, it's taken me by surprise. I, dear readers, am a certified baby addict.

Which is why this afternoon I'm mourning.

I had a rough time after delivering Finlay. Many things happened and it's been the opinion of many doctors that although I could have another child, I shouldn't. Be there for the ones you have. That's what I've been told. That's scary when someone says that to you. And although I really would have liked to feed my new found baby addiction, it's time I quit.

Today I solidified that with a long-term contraceptive. I wasn't ready to admit we're done, so there was no permanent solution, but this was a step towards that. To admit, I'm sad. I had always pictured us with four children. I pictured Finlay staring wide eyed at the new little bundle we brought home from the hospital, a playmate for her while the older two were at school. And much much more than that.

But it's done. And it's really hard for me to come to terms with. Now this phase is over I'm not sure what to do.

I suppose we've faced new phases in our lives before and rolled with it. I just wish it would've ended on my terms.

On a bright note, my little angel is up from her nap. Time to melt my insides with her grin.

A Funny Thing Happened on the way to 2011...

As many of you know (and know well), I like to tell stories. In fact, that's the biggest part I miss about being out in the world, is telling stories. Stories about my kids, my husband and especially my Mom. Boy did she produce some classics, who can forget the story about Ferd and Turd?

So this year I will try to post more and slightly shorter musings from the world of Gamble. I don't know if the stories will translate as well in writing, but they did produce a chuckle for myself at the time they occurred. Here are a few leading up to the New Year...

The other day as the girls and I were driving home from somewhere Hazelle spotted an airplane flying overhead. Not one plane makes it through our airspace without one of my children shouting 'Pain!'. Did I mention they don't say their 'L's all the time? It's cute, but I digress. Hazelle said, "Mommy, we've never been on an airplane before, could you buy us a ticket so we can ride on an airplane?" It was a thoughtful, charming and reasonable question to which I replied, "Honey, one day. Airplane tickets are expensive and we have a big family, we have to save up to buy tickets. But one day Daddy and I will take you girls on an airplane." Without skipping a beat she replied, "(exasperated sigh followed by a snarky sounding) But Mommy, I wasn't asking you to BUY the plane!" Point for the 5 year old. Well played.

........................................................................................

After cabin fever reached its limit my husband took the older girls out for a 'walk in the nature'. It's their favorite father/daughters thing to do while Mommy gets a mental vacation at home. It was an unusually beautiful day and he took them out on a trail at a local park. As usual, they came home filthy and happy, but none more filthy than Isla. As my husband explained, "Well, out of a mile of trail there was but ONE mud puddle. I turned just in time to see Isla fall belly-first in it, completely getting herself soaked. Then your other daughter managed to step in dog crap. Congratulations Stef, you produced two children EXACTLY like you." If I didn't think I was that clumsy or hadn't stepped in more than my share of dog crap I would have protested. So, point for husband. Well played, and well put.

Happy New Year to my fellow clumsy, dog-crap stepping friends! May this year be more stable and less crappy.

Gamble Grove

The Christmas season is upon us and holiday traditions are in full swing. We are a relatively young family so we have essentially no traditions started yet, save one. Gamble Grove.

When Ben and I first starting co-habitating, we had a fairly small 2-bedroom apartment. Which, it turns out, held enough 'stuff' to fill a four-bedroom house. To say that we were limited on floor space was an understatement. So our first Christmas in this apartment brought a little 6' skinny Christmas tree, slightly fuller than the Charlie Brown version, but well along the same lines. That tree stayed with us for two years until we got married and moved into our current home. It's not a big place, but it does have 9' ceilings, which allowed us to get a slightly larger, no, taller tree to take it's place. By this time though we (I) were attached to the 6-footer so we opted to keep it and just add a 7' tree in the similar style to fill out a space a normal tree would. It was kind of cute, a his & her Christmas tree couple that represented our life at the time.

Fast forward two years from then and we were expecting our first child at Christmastime. If you ever expect a child to be born around Christmas, expect with that child about 20 'Baby's first Christmas' ornaments. So once again as our family grew, so did our tree collection , a bouncing 5' tree to put between the aging two taller trees. With green lights the little tree was decked out for baby's arrival and all her ensuing ornaments.

The decision was made the following year to go ahead and purchase 3 more trees, a 4' 3' & 2', to be set up and decked out for each child that we welcomed into the family. This year our grove grew to 5 trees. The three little ones are decked out in pink, purple and green lights and all the school glitter ornaments you could want. I love that each girl gets to take pride and ownership in her tree, proudly displaying her life to that point. Haze has started to grasp the individual tree concept, yelling at me that I keep stealing her ornaments. I was merely moving some to my tree as hers was overloaded... already... and she hasn't let me forget it.

One little tree still sits in a bin, waiting to be decorated. Although I feel this little tree would fit nicely with our family of fake firs, I don't think it will ever be decorated by its own set of little hands. Gamble Grove might have reached it's limit this year. This tradition we started is, and probably will always, be my favorite. May you and your family enjoy it's own quirky traditions as we enter this time of celebration. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. ;)

Finding Life

I remember the first time I watched Finding Nemo. It was in the basement of my sister's house and literally cried from laughter for 10 minutes when Dory spoke whale. That was about 5 years ago. Just last year my Mom got that movie for my girls and I rediscovered what a delight it was. It's one of those movies that has adult stuff in it, but in a real life sort of way. (As opposed to, 'I really hope the kids don't start asking me questions about that tongue-in-cheek dialogue I'm snickering about'. I'm SO not ready to have that conversation.)

The first thing in that movie that resonated with me (besides the whale talking, you know, I should just bust that out on the kids one day and see just how crazy they think I am...) was when Dory, geniusly voiced by the very funny Ellen DeGeneres said, "When life gets you down, do you wanna know what you gotta do? Just keep on swimming, swimming, swimming." I believe at the time I was expecting or had a newborn and was trying to adjust to that new role, balancing life and work and marriage... basically feeling very out of control. I had no idea what I was doing or how I was going to juggle all these very important things in my life. And hearing that little blue fish just seemed to answer that conundrum I had been struggling with, just keep swimming. Simple. Just do it.

I used to think I was a little crazy for letting a little blue fish define my life motto, until I shared it with a friend I worked with. She had been going through a rough time and I told her that I hear Ellen DeGeneres singing in my head when I just feel like going in a corner and shriveling up. "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming." She laughed and then slowly back away so she wouldn't catch my 'crazies'. Sheesh, my crazies aren't contagious, do your research. ANYWAY, much later she told me that after that conversation, she too heard Dory singing in her head... and it made her smile and feel better....SEE! Being a little out there is fun! And much cheaper than medication.

When watching Nemo for the 400th time with the girls, a scene previously innocuous suddenly had new meaning. It's when Marlin and Dory are stuck in the whale's mouth and the whale has told them to let go. Marlin says something like, "How do I know things are going to be alright?" and Dory replies, "I don't". Then there's something about 'letting go' and Dory falls into the unknown abyss, followed by a reluctant Marlin. This part of the movie really hit home for where I am in life right now. Even though I am 21 months post lay-off from my job, I still feel like I am desperately holding on to a whale's epiglottis trying to stay where I was instead of trusting that voice that says, "Let go" will take me to where I want to be.

I think we've got the swimming part down. Every day we get up and do our best to make this little family function. My house is a mess, I'm a mess and my kids haven't had a bath in 4 days, but I think we're doing it. My kids are happy, smart and thriving and I'm finding joy in staying at home. My days are not as long and baby Fin's first smile of the morning is something I wake up anticipating. Still, it's hard to feel like I'm 100% okay with letting go of who I was. Those pangs of hurt still, just slightly, sting. The need to feel wanted and useful and creative can be achieved in other ways, but I'm having a hard time completely letting go, not sure on how those needs are going to be met in a life at home.

I feel you Marlin. It seems no one gets that it's hard to let go just because someone told you to. It flies in the face of all reasoning. It's unknown, and we both know the unknown is something we're not comfortable with. But I guess you and I both need to trust that it will all be alright if we slide off that whale's tongue.

If only it were that easy...