The other morning, we were attempting to get all five kids out the door. Rick froze for a minute, not sure what to tackle next.
I said to him, “All kids are dressed and sunscreened. Those two bags don’t go with us but we need the brown bag. Dylan is right there getting a drink of water. Summer is already in the car. I’m changing the baby. You take Chase and Harlowe to the bathroom and get on their shoes.”
With a refocused purpose, Rick got moving again.
Shortly after, Dylan said to me, “You know sometimes it seems like daddy doesn’t know what to do next.”
“Well, it is a lot to get this family anywhere. And Daddy and I have different skills. I’m just a little better at knowing everything we need to do before we leave the house. Daddy is better at other stuff and he takes care of those things.”
“Oh I get it,” Dylan said. “Like rhyming. He’s really good at rhyming.”
“Yes, daddy totally handles all the rhyming.”
By the way, when he isn’t rhyming, he’s doing the news. Here’s Rick’s most recent promo. After you watch it, you will think two things:
1. Damn you Rick and your super photogenic abilities.
2. Finally, Kelcey gets a little recognition for something other than breastfeeding at the grocery store.
There comes a point in the “move in” process where you sort of just give up and some of your boxes blend in to your everyday life. I mean, who needs an end table when you have a box sitting right there? I don’t know why Pottery Barn doesn’t showcase more cardboard furniture.
Our garage has been the epicenter of moving chaos and it was driving me nuts. We finally asked one of Rick’s aunts to come help us with the kids so we could try to plow through it and organize it. I basically put a moratorium on all spending (besides necessities like food, mortgage payments, candy and wine) until we cleaned it out.
And we did it. It took hours but we got it done. It was such a relief to walk through there and not being clobbered by a falling baby gate or gardening hoe. And no, I don’t garden.
I knew my kids were going to be very excited to see it all organized and get easy access to their bikes and scooters. As soon as they got home from school, I asked…
“So what do you think of the garage?”
“Did you do something to it?” asked Dylan.
Hmm… well, maybe she’s not my most observant kid.
I decided to focus on Summer. “Summer, do you love the garage now?”
“When are you going to clean it out?” she responded.
Okay. Surely, I could count on my 3-year-old twins.
“Do you guys like the garage?” I asked.
They both proceeded to tell me they did not want carrots with their dinner that night.
“Rick, the kids could care less about the garage. Doesn’t it make you happy to see it all neat and organized?”
“Honey, whatever makes you happy, makes me happy.” That is code for, “I really don’t give a shit. Please don’t make me clean out another room.”
So I finally turned to the man who would understand…
“Dad, how good does the garage look?”
“Terrific! I noticed it immediately,” he responded.
Now that’s the kind of support and encouragement I need.
When you sign up for this thing called parenthood, there is a lot of awesome stuff like finishing their cotton candy, having an excuse to watch Good Luck Charlie and kissing their sweet faces.
But one thing I didn’t realize – that I would worry about them from the day they were born until… well, forever. On the long list of motherly worries is personal safety. I can’t be there to protect them every moment of their lives and I feel like it’s important to arm them with the tools to protect themselves.
It’s no longer about, “Don’t Talk to Strangers” since children are often harmed by people that aren’t strangers at all. It’s about giving our kids the skills to recognize and deal with unsafe situations.
Two children’s books I found really helpful are My Body is Special: And Belongs To Me! and Jack Teaches His Friends to be KidSafe! (Disclaimer: One of the authors is part of my extended family but I would never recommend these books if I didn’t think they were excellent.)
And here is another amazing resource! I recently began working with a company called The Mother Company. It’s mission is to help parents raise good people (awesome mission, right?).
And on October 15th, The Mother Company is launching The Safety Show. Host Ruby (think Mister Rogers meets Mary Poppins) teaches important lessons about personal safety in an entertaining, non-scary show for children.
It’s all about kids trusting their “uh-oh feeling.” Children are taught to recognize their instincts and make the best choices for their well-being.
You can see the show for free in October in the following cities (LA, New York, San Francisco, Chicago and Dallas). Click here to reserve your tickets.
If you don’t live in one of those cities (Yo, South Florida in the house!) or can’t make the show, you can pre-order your DVD or download it on October 15th. Watch the trailer here. If you purchase the show, you can use the mama bird coupon code: safe144 for 25% off. That is some super cool savings on a very important topic.
Finally, I’m also writing for The Mother Company, so you can check out my piece called, The Babysitter is Here. And it’s Grandpa. It’s about the famous Tommy Tom. I did not mention T.T. by name in the post because I fear other moms with childcare needs will try to steal him from me. Enjoy.
As stated in this post, I am currently working with The Mother Company but all ideas expressed here are my own.
Okay, why is no listening to me? Is there sound actually coming out of my mouth? If a mother speaks and no one responds, is she actually speaking?
I must appreciate this moment. Everyone tells me my kids’ childhoods will fly by in 2 seconds and then I’ll be sad, lonely and in all likelihood destitute. My baby is nine. NINE. Soon she will be leaving me, embarking on her own destiny, and… oh wait, she’s still nine.
Oh my god, stop telling me you’re hungry. It’s just not possible. It’s just not possible to be hungry after two waffles, three pieces of turkey bacon and a breakfast bar.
My kids are so cute when they are sleeping. I can’t wait until later when they go to bed. I will really appreciate and be present for them when they are sleeping.
Everyone stop talking to me at the same time. I can’t hear you. I can’t hear any of you. I’m going to the bathroom, locking the door and peeing. I need six seconds of solitude.
Another moment of their precious childhood just passed and I didn’t appreciate any of it. I’m going to start appreciating it now. Okay, now. Seriously, right now. Okay, after I check Facebook.
I’m going to celebrate the gift of the ordinary day. Stop saying your tushie hurts over and over again. Your tushie is fine. I promise. I can’t take the repetition. Seriously stop. STOP.
Okay. Refocus. I am supposed to “treasure the doing a little more and the getting done a little less.” Anna Quindlen said so. Forget grocery shopping, cleaning and preparing lunches. Let’s go to the beach. The beach is good. I love the beach at 5 pm. That is the most perfect place on earth.
It’s midnight. No lunches are made. But the beach was awesome.
Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass – it’s learning to dance in the rain.
I am dancing! I am dancing!
Why is Fireman Sam only 12 minutes? What the heck can I get done in 12 minutes? Don’t be afraid to string a few shows together Sprout.
You don’t have to get up 4 times to use the bathroom during the night. You are wearing a pull up. I spent good money on that thing. Use it.
I adore holding their pudgy little hands. I will hold their hands for as long as they will let me.
I have the most beautiful kids. They are gorgeous. I love them. This motherhood thing is like nothing else.
I almost forgot that it’s time for fall TV, given that it’s still 91 degrees here with 4,000 percent humidity.
One of my favorite shows is “Nashville” and I would have watched the season premier last night but I had to watch “Chicago Fire” on my DVR because as much as I adore Connie Britton, I fell in love with those firefighters over the summer.
Just a day ago, my friend Wendi texted me because she followed Connie Britton on Twitter and oh my god, Connie followed her back.
I couldn’t believe I was now one degree away from Connie and I could funnel all my “Nashville” and “Friday Night Lights” musings through Wendi right to Connie!!
But then I thought, why should Wendi get all the damn glory? Wendi is so obsessed with Barry Manilow that she probably doesn’t even have time to watch “Nashville” or truly appreciate Connie’s hair. And if Connie and I were going to have a true friendship, without that Wendi always muscling her way in, then I’d have to follow Connie myself. So I followed her on Twitter and waited.
She did!! This was going to be incredible. I’d help write the “FNL” movie script! I’d assist in writing some of her songs for “Nashville!” I’d curl her hair! I’d make her Cash’s Godmother! We would drink wine together while quoting our favorite lines from “FNL!” We would talk about who’s hotter: Tim Riggins or Coach Taylor or Deacon? I’d dress up as her for Halloween and she’d dress up as me!
And then today, I pulled up her Twitter feed (because that’s the kind of thing new best friends do – check up on each other y’all!) and found this…..
I guess it was a fake account.
Please don’t tell Wendi about this development. She missed out on presale tickets for Manilow’s UK tour and she is in a very fragile state.