It’s a Good Thing They’re Cute

Get up at 4:30 in the morning. You’re solo-parenting this week so you have to get completely ready for work before taking kids to school. You also need to go in early because there’s a track meet to attend this afternoon. As you’re putting on your make-up, you realized that the dog still needs to be fed. Feed dog, finish make-up downstairs. Yell up to the kids that it’s almost time to go. Try to make sense of the toaster. Realize it’s just not plugged in.

Car is packed with your things, kids are not ready to go. Throw something together for lunches. Kids still aren’t ready. Start yelling at this point because everyone is going to be late. After all, you have to drive one kid all the way across town to school. Then drive all the way back towards home to drop the other on off. Oh, and then drive to work.

Finally get everyone in the car, leaving later than planned. One kid forgot their water bottle. (You give them yours.) The other kid forgot the “spirit wear” order form. They start freaking out saying it’s due today. (This is the first time you have heard of this deadline. Of course.) Have children call the husband that is enjoying a nice, quiet hotel room morning. Ask him to look on-line for spirit wear form. Or at the very least, remember the price of the shirt. He finds nothing. Asks to speak to you. You miss the exit off the freeway because you’re trying to be safe as the kid shoves a cellphone in your face. (You weren’t even touching the phone.) Lose your shit a little, tell husband you’ll have to call him back. Take the “scenic” route to the high school. Ignore the arguing children.

Make it to the high school. Quickly write a check for the event tickets you meant to buy yesterday. Look at the clock. Wonder if the other child is going to be on time to school. Hasty goodbye’s and love you’s said. Drive like a bat out of hell (a safe bat, of course) back towards home. Stop and go traffic and some points. Child feels carsick. Roll down all the windows, hope for the best. (Now that you mention it, you’re not feeling the greatest either. Not enough sleep and spastic car rides do not go well together.)

You never found out the exact price of the spirit wear but you’re hoping that if you just write a check, the child can figure it out and get a new order form. Settle on an agreeable price, write a check at the stoplight. Get critiqued by your tween on how you wrote the check. Consider making her walk the remaining way to school sans check. But as you’re contemplating all this, the light turns green and you, miraculously, drop her off at school with plenty of time to spare. Goodbye’s and love you’s said. The kid still looks a little green from the car ride.

At this point, you have to pass your neighborhood on your way to work. Contemplate the pros and cons of calling into work because you’re so tired and you haven’t even started your workday. Your eyes are so heavy, you stop at Starbucks in hopes that it will help you get to work safely. Since you drove a different route to stop by Starbucks, you find yourself on a path that goes right by your parents’ house. It takes every ounce of willpower to NOT stop and hang out with Mom all day. Or sleep all day. Or both. You sigh and keep driving. But you do call to wish your sister a happy birthday. Realize you sound slightly insane and your birthday song sounds like Buddy the Elf. It’s probably a good thing she loves you anyway.

Get to the office. Respond to emails, etc. Check all the things. Decide to email the track coach regarding the spirit wear order. As you make your way to the school website, you see the link plainly on the home page of the school’s website regarding spirit wear. Click on the form and hope that you’ve sent enough money.

See that the deadline to order spirit wear is next week.

With a slow shake of your head, and after popping two Excedrin, you somehow come to the conclusion that selling your children isn’t the answer but wonder if anyone will notice if you crawled under your desk for a nap. Decide that you’re just too tired to care.

life with all these girls

My husband doesn’t have any sisters – only a brother. So him growing up in a male majority household didn’t exactly prepare him for what life would be like with a wife and two daughters. Hell, even the dog is a girl. Or…was a girl. Whatever.

Sidenote: Here’s Paisley. It’s been awhile since she’s graced the pages of the blog.

paisley3 14
Adorable Muppet

ANYWAY.

When the girls were little, there were very few instances when being the only dude in the house was uncomfortable. Sure, there was a lot of pink and sparkles and Polly Pockets, but very rarely did he feel like the odd man out. Up until recently, it was pretty simple. Dare I say, he had it pretty damn easy. And really, he still does . NONE of us are prissy, drama attracted females. We’re pretty easy going.

Except when we’re not, of course. PMS is a tricky bitch.

Dealing with PMS-ing daughters and wife is hard enough. But I don’t think he was fully prepared to be quite so involved in ‘female’ conversations on a regular basis. Once Ramona joined the ranks of…well, the ranks of women who fight the monthly battle, he was doomed. Talk of feminine products and cramps and other such female maladies, my husband is now realizing what living with three women is about. If you’ve ever seen a sitcom that featured a dad and teenage daughters, you have a very good glimpse of what life is like for my husband. It’s difficult to see his little girls are grown up. And he really doesn’t know how to handle our frank conversations. He is severely outnumbered and is trying to find a way to rent out an apartment during certain times of the month.

The other day, Ramona had already made her way to bed but Beezus and I were watching a Buzzfeed spoof on Frozen. There was mention of the songwriters, who also happened to write songs for The Book of Mormon musical. One song in particular was referenced and I busted out laughing. My husband was trying to ignore us both as he searched for something on the computer but my child was understandably curious what I found so funny. (The song-name is Swahili. Her confusion was understandable.)

As I began to try to (delicately) explain this particular song, she mentioned that she wanted to see it. And, being the mother that I am, told her that she should wait until she’s older.

“Mom. I’ve seen Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.”

“I know, I know…but just…”

“Mom. Please. I’m sure it’s not even as bad.”

At this point, my husband is trying desperately to ignore us both. I should also point out that while I am very protective of my kids, I am also pretty open with them. We have rules about bad words, but…we also talk about how they’re just words. However, even as a surprise to myself I found myself saying:

“Kid. That song? The lyrics are straight up saying ‘f*** you in the eye’” (Plus…other things.)

And I kid you not, without missing a beat or even caring that her dad was listening, my kid responds with:

 “Yeah. And Priscilla shoots ping pong balls out of her vag.”

The two of us look at each other and immediately start laughing so hard, I nearly fell off my chair. Beezus had to hold onto the counter for support.

My husband? Well, my husband died twice from the shock of what his wife and teenage daughter just said. He came back to life only to pretend to keep his cool and just shake his head.

We knew better.

Which only made Beezus and I laugh harder.

I’m pretty sure my husband would’ve recovered a lot more successfully if he could’ve caught a break. But the next night, Ramona gave the entire explanation about periods and cramps and also dealing with all the things that are periods and cramps. All right as we were getting ready to sit down to dinner.

I looked at my husband lovingly.

“You. Are so. Screwed.”

He knows.

Dance Parties, Walls and Finding Home

When my kids were little, living room dance parties was just something we did and a huge part of who we were. I can vividly remember the girls being so little and getting down and getting funky as only toddlers and preschoolers can. The Now and Then soundtrack was on constant rotation back in those days. Sugar, Sugar was our jam. (There is also sugar IN jam. So that sentence seems oddly appropriate.)

Life happens in strange ways sometimes, though. We found ourselves selling our house and, not long after, we moved in with my in-laws. My husband started a business and went back to school. Nothing was the same and everything was up in the air. Our routines were 100% disrupted. Traditions that we used to have went by the wayside. Being a parent in my own home became difficult.

Just being myself became difficult.

During that time, very rarely was I a “relaxed” mom that could have fun with my kids. I have a lot of regrets about the kind of mother I was back then, but my biggest regret was not being able to let my guard down. If ever I want to drive myself to the brink of insanity, I can try to imagine the mom I *could’ve been* if I could’ve been the mom that I started out to be. In fact, just typing that sentence caused an elephant come sit on my chest. Regret is an ugly, ugly reality.

A tragic casualty of not being able to be myself was the lack of dance parties in our family. It just wasn’t the same. *I* wasn’t the same. Letting go and letting loose wasn’t something I could do under the circumstances. I realize that you can still be a decent and wonderful human being without dance parties, but it was more than that. It was almost like we lost the ability to truly feel joy. In my opinion, dancing exemplifies joy. And when you are lost in life, you don’t always know what joy looks like. Even if you know that it used to look like dance parties, etc.

I was devastated the first time I realized that I had allowed this part of my girls’ childhood to be locked up. I remember times that I tried to get them to dance at a wedding or a party and it was like I was asking them to pull off their own toes. I already have plenty of guilt of being such a young mom and how hard it was to raise tiny humans. Now I found myself feeling guilty for so much more.

Years passed before the four of us found ourselves with a little more freedom to be ourselves. It was a breath of fresh air, but it would take quite some time before we could feel comfortable with letting our guard down. In fact, it would take years. There’s even a part of me that believes that a shift began to happen when Paisley joined our family. I know, I know…that sounds a little nuts. But that fuzzy little muppet thawed something inside all of us. Being completely goofy over a pet can help tear down some pretty strong barriers.

But it’s when we bought and moved into our new home last summer when I saw the biggest shift of all. Even with all the weirdness and orange walls, we somehow knew we were home from the beginning. To this day, several months later, I can’t explain how much I love coming home every day. When I turn on our street, I breathe a sigh of relief. The gratitude is immeasurable. Because everything I ever wanted for my family (and was never sure I would get) is in this home. For 16+ years, I dreamed of having this feeling. For 16+ years, I wished and prayed for this soft place to land.

I try really hard to not have regret. I do. I really do. I try to be present and be grateful for all that we have now. But there is a piece of my heart that is broken for all the years that we didn’t have this feeling of contentment and peace. I feel sadness for the years that our family was so uprooted and a little bit lost.

The past few months, the shifts and the changes that I’ve seen in my family have been something to behold. I hesitate to use a word like magical, but it just the word I want to use right now. Life isn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. It’s not supposed to be. But when you can visibly see walls that were built up start to crumble, you take notice. When you can see your children allow themselves to be a tiny bit more vulnerable and open, there’s this sense of relief that can’t be explained. And while the dance parties haven’t returned quite yet, singing at the top of our lungs has. It’s different than our loud music days in the car. It’s wearing your heart on your sleeve, pure joy in a song, belting out as loud as you can singing that only comes from being silly and the freedom if being ourselves. And being ourselves feels so damn good. I’ve really, really missed it.

Why You Should Never Use the Olympics to Keep Track of Time

My husband and I watched the closing ceremonies of the Olympics last night. I know that you are completely shocked by us watching anything Olympics, but sometimes we actually do watch TV together. (If this was an email or text, this would be the part where I’d put a winking smiley face.)

With the 2014 Winter Olympics now over, there were segments about the next (2018) Winter Olympics and, of course, the 2016 Summer Olympics.

You can’t help but think about where you’ll be in the next two or four years. (I have A LOT of Olympic watching to schedule into my life, folks.) How old will I be? How old will my kids be?

Sigh.

Yeah…THAT question.

For the 2016 Summer Olympics, Beezus will be home for the summer from her first year away at college. Ramona? Yeah Ramona will be getting ready to start her first year of high school. HIGH. SCHOOL.

The next time we see the Winter Olympics? Beezus will be 20. TWENTY. Ramona will (theoretically) be driving.

My head didn’t even have time to explode. It fell clean off.

This is why no one likes math. Once you learn to count, it’s all over. Counting things make you realize how awful it is to use the Olympics as a measurement of time. Or to track parenting years and milestones. It’s horrifying. I began to rethink my love for all things Olympics.

I couldn’t even help myself. When all these montages that felt like time machines floated across my TV, I looked at my husband and said “Beezus is going to be home from her first year of college when it’s time for the summer Olympics.”

He stared straight ahead at the TV for a bit and then said, “That is so sad.”

I sometimes forget how hard this is on the papas, too.

Maybe it’s good that the Olympics are over. We’ve been…obsessed. Our TV has been on so much, I think my brain is beginning to ooze out my ears. I’m also way too emotionally involved in all these athletes. And yes, Olympic math makes you realize just how fast time will fly. I don’t need any other reminders.

I can torture myself without any help, thank you.

Parenting on the Same Channel

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I know, I know…this picture is so old, but I love it.

There are times when I worry about how much I share about my children here. I know I don’t use their real names, but they know this website exists. I’m sure they’ll read it at some point. I don’t feel so much reservation about sharing the sweet stories. Those are special moments that I want them to know. But, as we all know, mothering isn’t always the sweet and sappy stuff. Sometimes being a mom is damn hard. Those stories are a little harder to tell. Well, they are a little harder to tell when you imagine one of your children reading it.

image

I have wonderful children. I do. They are beautiful and loving and smart and amazing and they kick all kinds of ass. But my children are human. (No, really.) Being human means having bad days, testing the waters, break rules, making poor choices. You know, like ALL OF US.

My job as a parent means that I establish rules and boundaries that apply to our family. When those boundaries are challenged and when rules are broke, there are consequences. It is important to understand rules and boundaries and what happens when they’re not followed because this is practice for REAL LIFE in the world as an adult. Even though we all know plenty of adults that never learned this lesson, I’d rather my children not be counted among them. I hope they become good citizens of earth and all that.

I understand my job as a parent. But sometimes it just really sucks.

Each of us have times when we are not are best. I feel like I am a terrible person for the entire month of September most years. (I hate back to school. I don’t even want to talk about it.) But just because I’m having a bad month, I still have to follow the normal life rules.

Which is what I need to remember as I’m parenting my children.

firstdayofsixthgrade

Ramona and I are not speaking the same language lately. We are just…well, we’re a little off kilter. I vaguely remember a similar situation when Beezus started middle school. It’s not an easy time for them. There were a lot of changes for both of them at this age. (New schools and areas where they didn’t really know anyone.) Middle school is hard. It’s a lot more work. Socially, there is a lot to navigate and learn. I get it. I do. But getting used to all of the change isn’t a free pass to whatever they want. I still have to be the parent that enforces our household rules and boundaries that have been set. Even if it means that I feel like I’m going insane. And right now I really feel like I’m going insane.

The hard part is admitting that I am part of the problem. I let her push so many of my buttons, I lose my patience early on in the game. There many evenings after work where I became so frustrated that the things I asked her to do weren’t getting done. Or there was so much attitude directed RIGHT at The Dude and I, we almost didn’t fit in the same room together. But since I lost my patience so quick, we never fully resolved the situation.

So she lost most ‘screen time’ of any kind. Even though it started as a punishment, it ended up freeing up her mind for other things. Things like focusing more on homework and reading and getting her chores done. We also created a different structure for her for after school. Believe it or not, so far it’s helping. It’s not perfect, but it’s helping.

You know those old CB or walkie talkie radios? You had to be on the same channel so you could hear your buddy on the other end? And sometimes one of you was one channel off. You could still hear them talking, but there was so much garbled noise and static, you couldn’t really understand what they were saying. So you work together and switch the channels up or down and then all of a sudden, they come in loud and clear and you’re all BREAKER BREAKER DUDE I HEAR WHAT YOU ARE SAYING, 1040. Or whatever was your favorite thing to say on walkie talkies.

That’s what it’s like parenting Ramona. I’ve been a parent to that amazing kid for 11 years, and she never ceases to amaze me. But she also challenges me in surprising and unexpected ways. Just when I think we’re on to something, we have to alter the course. She keeps me on my toes. My parenting style has to change. Our communication needs to be adjusted. There are times I feel like a complete parenting failure until I realize that we need to step back, regroup…and make some changes on our walkie talkie channel so that we can understand each other again. It’s not a bad thing. It just is. I need to remember it when I find myself at my wits end and feeling like I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t need a complicated equation…I just need to switch that channel and listen for her. Inevitably, she’s coming in loud and clear.

thumbs up, baby
thumbs up, baby

Turn the Beat (Year) Around

I’ve had writer’s block for almost two weeks. I can’t decide if it’s because I don’t know what to say, or I don’t know how to say what I want. I have things that I want to talk about…to write about…to hash out and try and make sense of things that don’t always make sense. I want to start conversations and get the ball rolling. I want to be creative and wake up that side of my brain that seems to be sleeping away the rest of 2013.

We had a wonderful Christmas. We enjoyed spending time with family. We surprised the hell out of my mother in-law on Christmas Eve with visiting family from Mexico. I still get verklepmt when I think about how excited she was (and still is.) My sister came to town a few days ago, so we’ve been spending time with her and her family, too. We’ve gone to a hockey game, we’ve gone to Apple Hill…we’ve tried new things around town that we’ve never tried before. I’ve spent time with friends. I’ve enjoyed my family.

So maybe it’s not that I have true writer’s block. Maybe my energy has just been spent on being present and enjoying my loved ones.

Maybe sometimes you just need to realize that you’re where you need to be.

I’ve taken some time to think back on 2013. To say it’s been a big and busy year is a tremendous understatement.

I started Life of Jill.
I chopped off all my hair. Because of course.
Sarah and I ran the Tinkerbell Half Marathon.
Ramona turned 11.
I was a cast member of Listen to Your Mother – Sacramento.
Beezus went to prom.
I went to a couple of amazing conferences.
Campfire Wednesday was the best thing to happen to summer.
We bought a house.
A Giants game where they lost, but we had a blast.
We met some amazing people and had some amazing experiences along the way.
Beezus turned 16.
Ramona started middle school.
My brother got married.
Paisley turned 1.
Cap City Moms became a (softly launched) reality.
Celebrated 16 years of marriage.
College Visits? Ooph.
I enjoyed the hell out of my family and friends.

 

2013 - 1

2013 - 22013 - 3

That’s not even all of it. Not even a little bit!

Yeah, there were stressful and hard times and sad times mixed in. But when I think about 2013, there were some pretty badass things that I’ll be celebrating tonight.

And maybe that’s where I get stuck.

I focus so much on the past. I am celebrating a fantastic year coming to an end. I think about all the good that happened. I am thinking about all the fun that was had and all the love that was shared. But for some reason, I get stuck on how great things were, and I have difficulty looking ahead. I prepare myself for disappointment in 2014 because 2013 was so rad? That’s a pretty piss-poor way to do things if you ask me.

AND YET.

I basically have about 15 hours to celebrate and enjoy the end of a very awesome 2013 and snap myself into realizing that 2014 could be even more. More fun. More family time. More awesome. IT COULD HAPPEN.

Instead of sitting here worrying about what could go wrong. I should focus on all that is so totally right.

Life is what happens when you’re too busy making plans, right? Well, sometimes you can’t even make plans because you’re stuck looking back at the past and trying to walk into the new year backwards.

So yes…I have 15 hours to celebrate an awesome year. But I also have 15 hours to turn myself around and start walking face forward and get ready for what an amazing year 2014 will be.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Life Without Pinterest is Like a Night…Without Pinterest. (Or Blogging.)

Last night, I admitted to Sarah that I hadn’t been on Pinterest in weeks. She was understandably shocked. Quite honestly, I didn’t know that my Pinterest Vacation had lasted so long. But when you’re spending every spare moment on a new adventure? Well, I guess time just flies. With, or without, Pinterest.

This, maybe, applies to this right here blog of mine.

And so here we are.

To catch up? I had a really amazing Thanksgiving, thankyouverymuch. We started the day with Run to Feed the Hungry. I don’t know why we had such a great run, but we had a freaking blast. Maybe it’s because we’re so cute.

family

Thanksgiving dinner was spent with most of my siblings, my cute family and my inlaws. And you know what? It was pretty gosh darn fantastic. And wonderful. And I loved every minute of it. Even if I didn’t get a chance to shower after the race. (Good news is that I showered BEFORE. That was lucky. And a lot planned.)

The next day, we set out to find the biggest Christmas tree ever. Okay, not ever…but the only thing I asked for Christmas was a huge tree. So we made our way up to Apple Hill…along with a million other people…and braved the weather. And by “weather” I mean it was, like 9 million degrees. Which, if you think about it, is pretty odd weather for picking out a Christmas Tree. But we were on a mission and powered through! We would not be sidetracked! Even if we were wearing WAY too many clothes and probably suffered from heat stroke at one point or another. The hugest Christmas tree needed to be found!

However…the tree farm we settled on, didn’t have the huge trees we were thinking we would find. By that time, we had searched for quite some time. So I settled on what I thought was a nine foot tree. Maybe the family would just have to buy me an actual present, too, since the tree wasn’t GINORMOUS. But as it turns out? It was actually a little more than ten feet. And turned out to be the perfect size for our front room windows. The star perfectly looking out the top windows.

family - tree

Also, did you KNOW you had to stand on ladders to decorate ten feet trees? I may have had some nervousness tackling the top of the tree with lights. Okay, I may have had sweaty palms and shaky legs as I leaned from the ladder to those top boughs.

Ten feet is a wicked good start to my tall tree obsession.

family - front room

Also, remind me to tell you how weepy it can get when you start hanging all the “Baby’s 1st Ornaments” and realize just how long ago that was. Time, you’re an asshole.

family - ornament

Speaking of time…it is now December 12th. I haven’t purchased one Christmas present and I’m pretty fine with that. Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I know it will get done. I know there will (eventually) be presents under our tree. And I’m even pretty sure that my cute family will like what will be wrapped and ready for them. You know, when I actually find time to go shopping.

It’ll happen. It will.

In the meantime, I’m really enjoying the NOT shopping. It’s good for my soul.

Also, this book has nothing to do with anything. Except it’s it DOES. Because who wouldn’t want to read THIS?

family - book

Have a great (almost) weekend, everyone.

gratitude…in whatever form

hand

Today is just one of those days. I set out to be super proud that I made it through last week, but to celebrate, I’ve burned the crap out of my hand, somehow put a scrape on my leg and bruise on my arm and stubbed the hell out of my toe. I have very little makeup on which means I look like leftover hell. The “brown football helmet” I’m sporting doesn’t help things.

Maybe it’s just better if I check myself in to a plastic bubble and also, please don’t look at me, I’m hideous.

I mean…well, it’s kinda funny when you think about it.

I think.

At least, it will be.

When I looked at the calendar, gearing up for last week, I actually got a little concerned about how I would fare. So, quite honestly, a burn, scrape, bruise and stubbed toe is probably my body’s way of telling me that last week kicked my ass. But last week? Well, it also kicked all kinds of ass.

lastweek

 

There was Stanford. There were work deadlines. There was my nephew’s birthday. There were practices and lessons. There was a midnight showing. There was two hours of sleep before getting up for a (wonderful) food drive. There was being so proud of my cute little sixth grader and her school play. And then her school band was in a parade. And then I took the girls to the movies. Again. And then we celebrated Thanksgiving with my inlaws. Which was LOVELY.

And we survived. And my house is only in a tiny bit of a shambles. And I’m thankful and grateful and apparently so excited about it I’m a hazard to my own well-being.

But we crossed off things on the College Bucket List. We did good, you guys. We helped people. I watched my kid blossom…and I could see how much she’s enjoying herself. Which was amazing and wonderful and I’m so stinkin proud of her.

It was a good week. A week to be proud of.

And I’m just so glad that I have this place to write it all down and remember how wonderful and insane it was.

My life is (overly) full. And you know what? I just wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Touring The Farm

So, okay…I’ve stepped outside almost every comfort zone I have this past week. A week ago today, we (softly) launched Cap City Moms. And, well, I’m ridiculously excited and proud of this community of mamas we’re working towards. We’ve made some pretty big plans. And I can’t wait to tell you more.

But this morning, I find myself reeling a little bit from yesterday.

Stanford University - Hoover Tower
Stanford University – Hoover Tower

You would be proud of me. I was very well behaved, believe it or not. I didn’t cry once during the admissions tour and meetings. I didn’t cry when we toured the campus. And I mean, there we were…at STANFORD. Doing the college tour things like we’re supposed to. At MY first choice for her. (And her dad’s first choice for her. And HER first choice…for her.) My big brained child would do well there. It’s hard to get in. But I think she has a pretty good chance.

And she would do so well there. It would be so good for her.

It would also be good for me.

Stanford University - Memorial Church
Stanford University – Memorial Church

I feel like it’s far enough away that she could “go off to school” and have the college experience I am so hoping for her. But it’s close enough that The Dude and I can take off after work one day and take her and her roommates to dinner. (I don’t know…I just figured this would totally be something we would do.) (I promise to not do this super often. I mean, I think I promise.)

It IS Rival Week.
It IS Rival Week.

And honest to goodness I was excited. My goodness, it’s beautiful there. The campus is ginormous, but I could picture her having a blast there. I was so glad we toured with one of her best friends. The two of them were so excited. Not to mention, adorable.

These two. Adorable, yes. Also, ginormous brains
These two. Adorable, yes. Also, ginormous brains

I didn’t cry. Not once.

Well, not until we were almost home at least.

I knew she was overwhelmed by the day. As excited as she was, she couldn’t believe that college wasn’t so far away. Even though we keep talking about it, being on campus and touring made it a lot more real.

For all of us, really.

You guys, I’m just so proud of her. I couldn’t stop thinking about how proud of her we are. And then how proud I am of our family.

And then I told her. And then I cried.

And then she cried.

But it was more from being overwhelmed, I think, than sad or worried or scared. I think it was just a lot for us to take in. A lot to process.

I’m still reeling. And probably more overwhelmed by it than I care to admit.

But I left yesterday knowing that she’s going to be so awesome wherever she ends up going. She’s going to thrive. She’s going to have a blast.

I know (I KNOW) I’m going to be a mess when the time finally arrives.

But you guys? I think we’re all going to be just fine. Really.

stanford

the path to OFF DUTY

The past few days have given me pause top post anything here until I get over my rage. Okay, I haven’t had constant rage for a week, but…well, a good part of it. Our life is insane with two parents sharing tasks. So you can imagine what the insanity looks like when there is only ONE parent. And by the mention of my rage, you can probably guess that the solo parent is ME.

But here’s the thing: I do not have rage because I am solo-parenting it right now.

I have (had) rage because it has also been one of those weeks were SO MANY THINGS have gone wrong. Things that would’ve complicated a regular week. And, yes, some of my frustrations came from breakdown in communication with everyone in my family. It’s good that I know when there are schedule changes for school, practice or lessons. You know, so I can get people where they need to be. I believe there was a child of mine that wasn’t super careful or watchful and the dog ate something she wasn’t supposed to. That’s ALWAYS pleasant. Then there is the getting ready for an out of town tournament. And coordinating all things under the sun so that everyone is where they need to be.

It has been trying. And, honestly, a lot of damn time in the car. In rush-hour traffic. And trying to figure out how we’re just going to make it all work. Especially getting everyone packed and ready to go.

I only hope that I didn’t forget to pack anything.

Spoiler Alert: I PROBABLY FORGOT ALL THE IMPORTANT THINGS.

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But? I’m super looking forward to a fun weekend. Hanging out with some of the funnest parents a softball team has ever seen. I get to see one of my very dearest, wonder-twin friends. And? I’m just telling you all now that I am OFF DUTY as soon as my husband gets back into town. Well, when he gets back into town and then after he drives the three hours to the tournament. BUT THEN.

What am I going to do? Well, watch softball, of course. But I’m not making ONE meal, driving anyone anywhere or cleaning up after ANYONE. Off-Duty is going to be awesome.

And oh so very needed.

Have a wonderful weekend, my friends.

 

 

 

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