Spiderman and His Amazing Friends!!

Sometimes we have to just let kids be kids.  We have to allow them to experiment and discovery on their own.  If we are always there hovering over their every move how will they ever learn to do anything for themselves?  How will they learn to make decisions and choices?  I am all for this kind of hands off philosophy a majority of the time... But running ten minutes late on a Sundays is not one of those times.

All I can say is thank you Jesus for worship since this is basically the church version of previews at the movie theater.  (I know someone is going to freak out by that statement.  In fact the worship loving part of my soul is already berating me for even making this comparison.)

Anyhow,  back to letting my kids be children especially when it comes to their clothes.  If they want to wear their pants on backward the whole day because that's the way they put them on and they did it "all by myself!" then more power to them.  If they want to dress like Superman at the grocery store, why not!  If they want to wear those plastic princess shoes to playgroup, have fun!  (But don't expect me to carry you when those little buggers start pinching your toes.)

Like I said before there are times when I have to put my OCD in check and just let them be kids...  But not at church!  Please God, not at church!  I know we have a really hip, fun loving church that wouldn't think twice about a little girl dressed in her belle outfit because, lets face it, that's adorable.  What they might frown upon is the neon yellow prostitute that just came through there childcare doors....

Let me explain...

It's Sunday, we're running late so I get my C&C in the parent huddle and tell him to take the princess, I'll dress the boy and we'll meet downstairs in five.  Break!  Things are going swimmingly,  get the boy in clothes that fit him without any stains and we are heading down the stairs when I catch a glimpse of the mayhem going on in the princess's room.  What the...?

I walk into the princess's room and I'm greeted with a resounding cry of "Mommy, I Fire-star!"  I bet you don't know who Fire-star is.  Of course you don't, that's because it's a terrible nineteen seventies spiderman cartoon that's not even called Spiderman but called Spiderman and his Amazing Friends!  (look it up on Netflix so you can get an idea of what my family dynamics look like.)  Fire-star has become an obsession to my daughter.  She wants to fly like Fire-star and stop crime like Fire-star.  Fire-star is the women in my household!  The only problem is that Fire-star dresses in nothing but a neon yellow unitard with fire engine red gloves, boots and mask.

super appropriate for church

Fortunately, or unfortunately we don't have a Fire-star costume.  I'm sure this has to do with the fact that nobody knows who she is.  So my daughter takes it upon herself to dress in her banana yellow leggings with a matching neon yellow Tinkerbell shirt and proceeds to "transform" as she lifts her arms and shows her mid drift... Um, no.  You can not go to church like that.  This is about the time my husband decides to chime in and tell me that "Somedays it's got to be ok to let our little princess express herself."  Turns out my husband dressed her!!  Yes, he sure did.  Of course he did.  For some reason he thought that her desire to be her favorite super hero trumped the fact that she looked like a rubber banana.

Mommy, I Fire-Star!

You should see her Fly

Now, I'm really stuck.  I can't contradict my husband.  He has already said she could dress like a prostitute, I mean Fire-star, but I can not and will not let her leave this house looking like that.  (I didn't think I'd have to worry about these kind of fights until she was much older.)  My mommy brain is seething at my husband while simultaneously searching for a solution.  I fortunately remember a yellowish dress with a disney princess on it that has been sitting in her drawer for a while since it has a bit of a stain but is to cute to throw out or giveaway and I start debating if it's too stained or if it even matters at this point, must. get. her. out. of. yellow. clothing!!!  My brain is on overload and I calmly say to my daughter, "hey, you're missing red, Fire-star has red in her outfit.  Oh look!  This dress has pink I mean red in it.  This will look much more like Fire-star."

She takes the bait and is joyous to change into something that doesn't make me want to sink into the floor with embarrassment.  Thank you Jesus for small miracles.

2pts- mommy, daddy-0.

Antenella

Do Hard Things

Editors note:  If you are easily offended by the mention of God feel free to not read this post and please tune in next wednesday where I will undoubtably be talking about how obnoxious my children are.  (And I mean that in the most loving sense of the word.)

Sometimes God will ask me to do hard things.  Like really hard things.  A lot of the time it involved me swallowing my pride and doing something super embarrassing.  Fortunately since having kids, very little is embarrassing but I do still have pride issues. (Though I will totally deny it if you ask me in front of my kids)

Recently God asked me to do something hard.  It involved contacting someone I didn't really have any plans to talk to ever again.  But God didn't just stop there.  Oh no, not my God!  He believes in going above and beyond.  Whore-ray!  Not only did I have to get a hold of them, I then had to encourage them.  And tell them a whole bunch of nice things about themselves and although all of the statements were completely true, it just hurt a little to have to be the one to say them.  Seriously? There wasn't anyone else that could deliver this message?  Maybe God asks the most unlikely person to do the encouraging so that the person receiving it will know without a doubt that it was meant to be a message from God.  Because, honestly, I was the last person on the planet that ever needed to blow smoke up their ass.

If I can be honest.  I fought this for a long time.  I'm embarrassed to admit, but like, years long time.  But finally the day came where He would be ignored no longer.  So I listened and obeyed.  And I was skeptical.  And I was nervous. And I was ignorant. What if it was the wrong timing?  What if they never wanted to hear from me ever again?  What if they were still mad or hurt or even worse, indifferent.  But I tried not to think too much about it and sent a fairly simple if not awkward note of encouragement.  Besides who doesn't like a few words of encouragement every once and a while, right?

And that was it...

I'd love to say that I didn't think about it again after I hit send but I'd be lying.  So imagine my shock when I got a pretty speedy reply for my address.  Um...ok.  I figured if I was doing this God's way I was going to see it to the end.  I'd either get a scathing letter or a restraining order.  Either way I'd know the end of the story.

So three days later (strange how that works) I receive not only a heart felt letter of thanks but an apology.  And I would love to say that those words meant nothing to me.  That I could say, "that was so in the past"  or even better, "I don't remember what you are talking about but thanks" But I'm not that great of a person and I knew exactly why those words where scribbled on to that piece of paper.  As soon as I read those two words, "I'm sorry" I broke.  At least, that's what it felt like.  I sobbed...for a while.

I was totally taken by surprise by my reaction.  And for a split second, even angry.  I was so ashamed with myself for hanging on to past hurts for so long.  How much was I still seeing myself in the past?  I had distorted the truth about it for so long that I couldn't even remember what was true or not.  But here it was in black and white.  A true acknowledgment.  A validation that what I felt so many years ago was real.  Sure, it was probably a little blown out of proportion with the surge of teenage hormones but for the most part, it really happened.  I didn't just do this to myself or purposely cause drama or any other scenario that I made up to explain it away.  This was a sincere and heartfelt apology.  So naturally, I balled like a baby.

This whole experience made me realize again how God is great.  When he calls us to be part of his will and we obey, there is no other feeling of fulfillment.  The unfortunate thing is that I very rarely agree to be part of his work.  I'm always too busy, too prideful or too frightened to make a fool of myself.  I always forget that when God calls me to do something it's not for Him,  (God does whatever He wants with or without me.)  it's for me!  He wants to bestow His blessings and restoration for my soul!  I need only to listen and obey.

How humbling.  That the God of the universe wants to not only let me be part of his great world but wants to also be small enough to be part of mine.


Antenella

Mother of the Year

Let me start off by saying that it takes a lot to embarrass me.  I mean a real lot.  Well, at least it used to.  Then I had kids and now all I feel is just varying degrees of humiliation.  Today had to seriously top the scale.  At least so far.  (Who knows what kind of joys are in my future tomorrow!)  It started off pretty normal.  Scrambling to get out of the house.  Trying to find socks, put on shoes, brush hair, take a 30 second shower because by precious children are screaming bloody murder from the other side of the glass and I'm pretty sure everyone in my neighborhood can hear them from my bathroom.  Good times.

Anyway, I get everyone washed and presentable and I'm trying to dress my beauties.  The boy, not a problem.  Shorts and T-shirt, socks and shoes.  Simple.  My daughter... not so much.  I get her clothes picked out.  No problems there.  Plaid shorts with pink shirt with ballet slippers on them.  Too cute!  But I'm missing something.  Underwear.  I know she has a bahjillion pairs of underwear, (why are they called pairs?  They're just one) so were the hell are they? 

Side note:  I'm kinda on a time frame with my kids as I'm sure you understand.  I only have about 20 minutes from the time I get them up till the time I get them downstairs and eating or they seriously go from being Gizmo to Gremlin in about 5 seconds flat.  Then I only have about 30 minutes from the time they begin eating till the time I get them out the door or they decide they are going to make my departure from the house the most excruciating event ever.  Basically Gizmo to Gremlin.  Then I have about 20 minutes to get where I need to go or they need to be feed again.  Otherwise... You got it Gizmo to Gremlin.  Are you catching my urgency to get out of the house in a timely manner?

From This

To This

So I've already wasted about 15 minutes on their bath and getting the boy dressed and now I'm staring at my daughter half dressed praying that I have clean laundry in the dryer.  That has got to be it.  Where does 1 bahjillion pairs of underwear get to anyway?  So I rush everyone down stairs, get breakfast going and everyone is eating before you can say apocalypse.  As their eating I am scrambling to get my life line, I mean diaper bag packed and ready to go.  Diapers? Check. Wipes? Check. Waters? Check. Snakes? Check. Varying amounts of entertainment? Check.  Where am I going you ask?  Disney world? Alaska? The Himalayas?  Nope, just the gym.*  Which is literally 3 minutes from my house.  I could walk there.  But I'm not going to.

Now there is still that pesky issue of underwear and I'm running out of time.  Dryer.  No. Underwear!  Relax, so what if you have not a single pair of clean underwear to dress your child in, does that make you a bad mom?  Only if someone else finds out!  So I take the risk and let my little precious princess free ball it this one time.  (ok, maybe it was the second time)  No one will know our dirty little secret unless she pees her pants, which of course, isn't going to happen...

So wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles.  I make it out the door with only one minor melt down and I'm thinking this is going to work.  We make it to the gym, drop the kids off and by the power of God both my kids are happy and quiet and they don't have to come get me to let me know that my child is screaming like a banshee and I'm a terrible parent for leaving him.  So I actually get a good work out in and I'm feeling pretty good and about an hour later I figure it's about time to get those kids and get them lunch or something that involves parenting.

If I Were A Rich Man

Well, I walk into the kid care and thank the Lord my kids are the only ones in there.  The boy is passed out cold while my princess is sporting new shorts.  Those are cute.  What a minute...

The ladies inform me that my princess was too excited to let them know when she had to use the little girls room.  So not only did she pee all over herself but they had to change her clothes... and in order to change her clothes they would unwittingly have to unveil my dirty secret!

This Doesn't Even Begin To Describe It

OH MY LORD.  Humiliation at it's finest.  A couple of things went through my mind.  1.  Do I even mention she's not wearing underwear or do I just leave it up to them to fill in the blanks?  Maybe they'll think she dressed herself.  2.  The warnings of my mother telling me to never leave the house without clean underwear in case I get into a terrible accident and the EMT's have to cut off my clothes and find I'm not wearing clean undies.   What are the chances?  

I'm pretty sure those where my last thoughts before racing out the door.  What are the chances?  Apparently, pretty good.  So make sure the next time you leave the house, you're wearing clean underwear.  Well... at least your kids are.

Antenella

*I just want to clarify that the gym can be a God send and my worse fear at the same time.  The boy decides sometimes that he loves it then other times he hates it.  So I spend most of my workout looking over my shoulder like a cracked out drug fiend looking for the cops because I keep waiting for the ladies who work child care to come looking for me and remind me what a horrible person I am to leave my screaming child in their care for 20 minutes at a time.  As I've mentioned before, the boy is a crier.  Shout out to all my moms dealing with criers!!  I hear ya.   

Today...in a Nutshell.

It has been quite a day today.  It's been one of those days that started out 10 minutes late.  Then I spent the rest of the day trying to make up for those 10 minutes that turned into 20 minutes, then 30 minutes...and, well you get the idea.  It's been one of those days that makes you stop and say,"Oh my Lord!  I'm a mom!"  And not a t.v. type mom that gets to have her cafe mocha between commercial breaks but I full fledged mother!

You know what?  That bitch
had a nanny/ houskeeper!

Today has been a day that has made me think that I am both thriving and failing as a parent.  I am always amazing by my ingenuity as a parent.  How I can always seem to make anything work.  But then I start wondering if I shouldn't just call it quits and head home.  Like the times when the princess gets to excited to make it to the potty on time and I spend 10 minutes fashioning her brothers jacket into a skirt.  

But some days it just really hits me.  This is it.  This is my life.  And it's not really all that bad.  Different!  But definitely not terrible.  Sure, I can't go to the bathroom by myself anymore and for get those late nights with the ladies.  (Actually... It's called "mommies night out"* now)  But it's so worth it!... at least thats what they keep telling me.  What makes me say these things might you ask?  Well, I have a list.  Granted this is not an exhausted list but a list of all the thoughts I had just in the past 10 hours:

Top 10 Things That Make You A Mom:

10.  You have something green smeared on your shoulder and you can't for the life of you remember what you fed your kid that would resemble that color.

9.  You've torn your house apart looking for dance shoes for the dance class that starts in 10 minutes but your 15 minutes away and they end up being in your bag the whole time.

8.  You get unnaturally excited when you see a firetruck drive by with the lights on.

Holy Crap!  This one has a crane!

7.  You have said, "If you don't stop, I will give you something to cry about!"

5.  You have the same thought at 5:00pm.  "What the H E double hockey sticks am I going to make for dinner!?"

4.  You sing the "backpack" song to yourself in the shower. 

3.  The man in the yellow hat starts looking like he's been working out because honestly, he's the only other adult male you have seen in a while.

Sexy! 

2.  You are frustrated that the post office doesn't have a drive through.  You dread having to go to the post office.

1.  You can make a meal out of Cheetos, granola bars, bananas and a juice box.

Ah, the joys of motherhood.  They said "it wouldn't be easy, but it would be worth it"...  How about  "it wouldn't be easy, but you can take a nap later."

Antenella

*Check out last weeks blog, "what transpired at mommy night out"... good times.