6 years and 20 months later I still can NOT get my $hit together...

So I have a particular way of doing things. I like routine, I have a great appreciation for consistency. I thrive on structure. I am a creature of habit. One would think that a person of such character would have an easy time establishing new patterns.

Well it's been six years and twenty months since I had the distinct honor of becoming a mother (x2), and I'm still trying to get my $hit together.

Now the first baby is an adjustment, that is no lie. But eventually you find a rhythm and instinct kicks in. It was definitely a challenge leaving my first daughter at home when my maternity leave came to an end, but I quickly adapted to the constant lingering feeling of guilt and developed a schedule.

Enter baby #2 into the mix 4 1/2 years later.... I'm still struggling with general daily tasks.

Just getting dressed in the morning is a monumental achievement. I must float between three bedrooms during the entire process for about 25 minutes. As I am still draped in my bath towel and brushing my teeth I enter the bedroom of my oldest daughter to wake her up. Once she stirs, it's back to the bathroom to spit out my toothpaste and rinse. Next step is lotion for my face as I re-enter the bedroom to wake my daughter for the second time. By the time I'm done putting my hair products in, her feet FINALLY hit the floor.

Then it's onto the baby's room. At this point I have reached the stage of dress pants and bra. After I get the littlest one's diaper change, it's baby on hip back into the oldest's room. This is the point at which I threaten a day spent in her bedroom if she doesn't quickly finish getting dressed. Let's be honest, we all know this threat is a big fat lie.... BUT what other ammunition do I have?

At this stage in the process I am completely dressed, took me long enough right? Now its a pony tail for my daughter, down stairs and make breakfast, feed the fish (hate that damn fish), let out and feed the dog, gather lunches and back pack.

Hmmm. What am I forgetting? Always something. This routine never seems to go off without a hitch. Today I forgot to leave the car seats for the babysitter.

In the past I've left me travel mug (filled with my much needed caffeine fix) on the counter, forgotten to leave my husband car keys, left behind my lifeline of an iPhone (which at this point I have NO choice but to circle back to the house). Gone without breakfast or abandoned my lunch bag.

BUT, I've never forgotten to kiss my sweet angels or husband goodbye, never forgotten to tell them how much I love them, and that I wish them all a good day.

So even to know my life is messy and chaotic for a Mom who is addicted to process and routine, I guess I'm doing ok. Because at the end of the day, all that matters is that I never stop trying to give my kids and my hubby the very best of me.

Blue Poop?

Let me begin by saying I am not an earthy crunchy mom who feeds her kids only oraganic food and hasn't introduced refined sugar into their diets yet. I have always felt as long as they are getting what they need, what's the harm in processed food?

So this morning as I am changing my son's diaper I noticed his poop had some blue in it. Not like "I ate too many blue berries blue" but like bright unnaturally colored blue. At first I panicked and then I remember the large quantities of Crunch Berries he ate yesterday. And I laughed. Judge away :)

Hats off to FRIDAYS!!!!!

Is it wrong to love a specific day of the week so much? Perhaps it is because it means I can sleep in the following day. Or that the girls and I have movie nights and stay up late. The hubby arrives home early from the night shift and that's also a special and welcomed treat! And for some reason the work day seems a bit more tolerable ;0)

This day of the week triggers a promise that a break in routine is just around the corner. For whatever the reason, I will always and forever be in love with Fridays! Sundays, well not so much.

Ellipses

The word is from Ancient Greek and means "falling short". I think of it as those three periods that I can use to create run-on sentences at will. But I like its original meaning...that by using them, I am letting you the reader know that this sentence is going to fall short. That something is going to be omitted, or left out or left up to you.

I feel my life as a parent is an ellipses. Like I am constantly trying to play catch-up over falling short in some way. That while I am at work I am slowly being omitted from my children's lives...replaced by the real life version of three periods in a row.

I didn't see my son all day yesterday, left the house in the morning before he was awake and when I checked on him when I got home he had long been asleep. This morning he woke up early and his dad went to get him while I made myself a piece of toast and nursed the baby. When he came toddling out I gave him a big smile and said "good morning". His eyes got big and he revealed a toothy grin and came running over to me...took my toast...and headed back to his father.

Just another ... moment.

Why Is This Controversial?

I have a long commute two days a week and often fill the time listening to sports talk radio. I mean where else can you hear updates on sports and current events as told through the purview of sports fans. The morning show is a call in one, as most are, and this morning the hot topics fell into three categories: Tim Thomas of the Bruins, The upcoming Superbowl match up between The Pats and The Giants and Joe Paterno.

Here was what I couldn't believe. People were calling in talking about what a great man he was, how of course he is being celebrated as a hero, how thousands are in State College, PA to pay their respects to a "great man."

OK. The commentators disagreed with these callers. So do I. This is a man who knew for 13 years that one of his coaches was molesting little boys. Who was told by another coach that he had witnessed the abuse taking place. Who did nothing. This is not a man to be held up and celebrated. This is a man so concerned about his own reputation that he could not be bothered to stop the sexual abuse of boys. And by remaining silent is complicit in that abuse. Paterno is not a pedophile, but he, like so many others who have stood by and allowed the sexual abuse of children to continue is just as guilty.

So while I am not glad Paterno is dead, I have a hard time celebrating the life of someone who stood by and did nothing. The children of this country have a right to be kept safe and to be given a voice. No one is talking about the victims and the impact these acts have had and will continue to have on them. All of the research shows that children who are abused suffer long after the abuse has stopped. Instead of remembering Paterno for his 409 wins, can we instead remember him as someone who played a crucial role in the ongoing suffering of Sandusky's victims?

But the final note, and maybe what frightens me more, are the thousands who defend him, celebrate him and are convinced he did nothing wrong. The message they send, is that the life of a football coach is more important then the lives of the victims. These supporters, intentionally or not, are minimizing the crimes committed and sending the message that as long as you excel in something high profile, it is OK to enable criminals. The callers defending Paterno were fired up, angry that the commentators were defiling the name of their hero...as though he is the REAL victim here. I lost some faith in human beings this morning. And I worry about the type of world I am raising my children in.

This is one CRANKY MOMMA!

Have you ever woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Maybe you forgot to take your "happy" pill. Failed to remove the pole from your a$$? Well, no need to feel embarrassed or ashamed my friend. Because today, all of the previously mentioned describes yours truly, yes people I mean me.

I'm the woman who shot you a "seriously?" glance when you sat down on my lap while you took your seat on the T. And that's not because the seats are not wide enough to accommodate even a size 5 behind. Nope! It's because when I quietly just shifted in my seat to avoid lapping my entire commute, you proceeded to take the second half of my seat.

Why am I SO unwilling to yield in this matter you ask? Perhaps it's because I'm on day 4 of no sleep because I'm dealing with a 20 month old whom for whatever reason refuses to sleep. Or maybe it's because I constantly keep tripping over shoes left in my way as I attempt to make my portable caffeine fix in the morning, despite the fact, 3 months ago, I took 2 hours I didn't have to organize the closet by the side door to house such safety hazards.

Now I can look forward to spending my weekend fixing the minor infraction, and repainting the wall that now has the indent of the back of my heel.

And to add to my unpleasantness, I must sit on the T during my 45 minute commute listening to the "loud" talker on their cell phone. So loud my iPod can't even mask their obnoxious voice.

So don't judge a book by it's cover people. That woman you just concluded is a nasty biatch deserves a second look. She's just a hardworking mother and wife who has already reached her breaking point and it's only 8:30 in the morning on a Tuesday.

Moms DO NOT get sick, they suck it up!

So I have a bump in my jaw containing fluid that is trapped between my throat and my ear. My nose constantly runs, so at least I know the bump is draining.

My throat is scratchy and my ears are crackling. And my head feels like it is disconnected and floating above my shoulders.

Now, if my husband felt the way I do right now, he'd be in bed. He wouldn't be able to watch the kids because he'd be sleeping all day. I would be bringing him cold medicine and tissues and ensuring he had plenty of fluids.

However, I'm the one who is fighting a nasty head cold. I still get up and get the kids ready for school, I still make their lunch, I still go to work, I still come home and make dinner, I still give the kids their baths and get them ready for bed. I do the laundry, and pick up the clutter around the house.

I bring myself cold medicine and tissues. AND I'm the one who makes sure that I drink plenty of fluids. All without skipping a beat.

Because after all, I'm a Mom. I'm not really as sick as I feel.