I'm not a perfect person. I take bubble baths and drink wine when I'm unraveled. I bite my nails down to the tip of my fingers when I'm thinking nervously. Sometimes I judge others for the same things that I do. I cry more than the average person. I'm a constant wreck, like can't ever find my keys, had to order a new debit card THREE times in one month kind of wreck. I can't even count the amount of times I lose my cell phone in a single day. I have no idea how I keep it together...really.
So when you ask me, "How do you do it?" I truly don't know. I wish I could tell you that it's because I have some kind of super power, but I don't. In fact, I spend most of the day figuring it out as I go. I can plan and plan, but the reality is, my kids don't care what my plans are. They don't care that they all have to be in the car and on the road by a certain time, they are still going to poop in their pants, run around trying to find their socks and shoes after being told not to take them off, and spill my pop all down the front of themselves, at the very moment we are meant to be out the door. So I guess I can add this to my list of things that make me an imperfect person, I am ALWAYS late. And if by some miracle I am ever on time, know that it took all of my energy and effort in order to achieve that.
Today was one of those days. No, we didn't have to be anywhere today, but even on those days, my patience seems to be spread thin. Every night I tell myself, "Tomorrow, I won't raise my voice as much. Tomorrow, I'll clean less and spend more time teaching the kids. Tomorrow, I will be a better Mother. Tomorrow." But when tomorrow comes. Analise has climbed the entertainment center, then the book shelves, sits on the back of the couch, climbs behind the entertainment center and any other thing she can climb. Adison smacks Analise, smacks the dog, carries the cat around the house, and has spilled everything on the coffee table. Abby is singing at the top of her lungs, taking every toy from the twins away resulting in fits from all parties, asks for everything she knows she's not allowed to have...repeatedly. And so begins the yelling, the cleaning, the deep breaths and the chaos.
But then, there's this moment, when the pieces just fall together and the magic sets in. The "I love you, Mommy"s, tickle fights, and the laughter begins. Those moments when you look over and see the girls hugging and kissing each other, or you take a trip to the park and your entire family is laughing and having fun. Those magical moments make you realize how wonderful it all is. And maybe, just maybe, I'm not screwing it all up as bad as I think I am. Maybe somehow, my imperfections pull it all together. They love me despite my imperfections, just as I love them. I think as long as we are perfectly imperfect together, we'll all be just fine.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Thursday, September 4, 2014
5 Reasons My Life is Not Brady Bunch Perfect
Motherhood is nothing like I thought it would be. Seriously though. I imagined board games every night, singing kids songs in the car and having the perfect schedule for kids who always stayed on my schedule. As you can imagine, the reality of being a Mother is very different from my deranged illusion. I think I thought we would be like The Brady Family. Darn you, Nick @ Nite, for giving me a false hope of what having a family is like.
The first five reasons I can think of that make my family different from The Brady's:
1. Instead of one of my Davy Jones obsessed daughters getting smoked in the face with a football accidentally, my kids would rather hold each other down and beat their sisters with their own shoes, while laughing like evil minions.
2. Although Carol Brady didn't have twins (the first hole in my Brady Family fantasy), I can imagine she would have handled bed time perfectly without having even a single glass of wine. Unfortunately for me, one 2 year old is climbing the curtains, the other is playing underneath the bed and my 4 year old is watching a movie pretending she is anywhere but here, which is precisely what I am doing.
3. My kids are not made for show business. When we listen to the Frozen sound track for the thousandth time, the two year olds are singing words in their own babbling language and my 4 year old is singing the words at the top of her lungs.... a whole 10 seconds after they are said.
4. The Brady's Family dinners are all about talking to each other nicely and eating whatever Mrs. Brady decides to cook. Our dinner time consists of yelling at the dog not to eat off the table, the oldest whining because she doesn't like this food she's had a hundred times because it looks different, the twins grabbing each others food which results in a smack down across booster seats that eventually results in being separated from one another and Mommy losing her mind.
5. They have a maid. If I didn't have to make the beds, do the dishes or sweep my floors I'd probably be a ball of sunshine too. Instead, I'm the one who gets to clean up the poop my toddler decided to smear all over her bed, the carpet and her sisters. Yep, MY reason for a poopy attitude is because I'm the one cleaning up all the poopy. All day, every day.
While I truly do enjoy mother hood, down to the very last poopy door knob I grabbed and then ate a chip without realizing I forgot to clean my hands first; it's absolutely nothing like being Carol Brady.
The first five reasons I can think of that make my family different from The Brady's:
1. Instead of one of my Davy Jones obsessed daughters getting smoked in the face with a football accidentally, my kids would rather hold each other down and beat their sisters with their own shoes, while laughing like evil minions.
2. Although Carol Brady didn't have twins (the first hole in my Brady Family fantasy), I can imagine she would have handled bed time perfectly without having even a single glass of wine. Unfortunately for me, one 2 year old is climbing the curtains, the other is playing underneath the bed and my 4 year old is watching a movie pretending she is anywhere but here, which is precisely what I am doing.
3. My kids are not made for show business. When we listen to the Frozen sound track for the thousandth time, the two year olds are singing words in their own babbling language and my 4 year old is singing the words at the top of her lungs.... a whole 10 seconds after they are said.
4. The Brady's Family dinners are all about talking to each other nicely and eating whatever Mrs. Brady decides to cook. Our dinner time consists of yelling at the dog not to eat off the table, the oldest whining because she doesn't like this food she's had a hundred times because it looks different, the twins grabbing each others food which results in a smack down across booster seats that eventually results in being separated from one another and Mommy losing her mind.
5. They have a maid. If I didn't have to make the beds, do the dishes or sweep my floors I'd probably be a ball of sunshine too. Instead, I'm the one who gets to clean up the poop my toddler decided to smear all over her bed, the carpet and her sisters. Yep, MY reason for a poopy attitude is because I'm the one cleaning up all the poopy. All day, every day.
While I truly do enjoy mother hood, down to the very last poopy door knob I grabbed and then ate a chip without realizing I forgot to clean my hands first; it's absolutely nothing like being Carol Brady.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)