Here we are, four days before college commencement and 30 days before high school graduation. The days are flying by. I swear it was just yesterday we were walking our oldest to his first day of kindergarten.
What have I learned in the last 17 years? Absolutely nothing. No, that's not right. I've learned so much my head hurts.
I've learned that some friendships don't last.
I've learned that true friends will be there when you need them, and those that aren't suck.
I've learned that sometimes it takes walking away from nearly everyone you know and go to a campus where you know very few people is the best decision could make.
I've learned that as a sports parent, sometimes you have to keep your mouth shut. You aren't the coach, and no matter what you think, really doesn't matter.
I've learned that some of the best friendships are found with those very coaches.
I've learned that its ok if your kid stays home on a Friday and Saturday night because they have made the decision to avoid drama.
I've learned that your kids will make decisions that you don't agree with. You just have to hope they correct their mistakes, or at best learn from them.
I've learned your husband can intimidate a principal with just a look.
I've learned that it pays to be friends with a resident tattoo expert when a gym teacher overly judges.
I've learned that both kids and parents embellish the truth. Just remember I'm on to you and you are full of shit. Even better that you know I know you are full of shit.
I've learned that sitting back and watching drama unfold on social media is pretty damn funny. Especially when it isn't about you or your kid.
I've learned that sitting through Christmas concerts can be painfully boring. But I love them all the same. And damnit they are Christmas concerts, not holiday sings.
I've learned to have tolerance of kindergarten, 1st grade, fifth grade, sixth grade (you get the picture) graduations. Your kid is moving to the next grade. They aren't graduating.
I've learned I'm the homework Nazi. I'm ok with that because our kids got into a great college....actually many great colleges. Tough crap they hated me when I badgered them about grades.
I've learned that college drinking is inevitable, and high school drinking is just stupid. It doesn't matter that I did both.
I've learned that waiting 17 years to finish college was the toughest thing I've ever done. I don't recommend it, and that boys is why you will finish school.
I've learned that kids lie. And their parents do too.
I've learned that parents judge. I used to care. Now I don't.
I've learned that kids will be nice to you to your face, and then bad mouth you when you turn around. News flash you little fuckers, some day someone will call you on your bullshit.
I've learned that I miss the kids playing baseball. And I hate they quit because of poor coaching and shitty teammates.
I've learned that I'm really going to miss taking pictures on Friday night's, and being overly involved in the football program.
I've learned that both our boys set goals to play college football, and although it's not Division I, it is a damn good program. I thank 95% of the coaching staff for helping them fulfill their dreams.
I've learned that even after your kid graduates high school, you'll still be friends with some of those parents you met.
I've learned that I can't wait to delete some of the others.
I've learned that sitting in a parking lot waiting to get chairs and tables for a festival will afford you the opportunity to see a teacher rocking out in his car.
I've learned that I can't freak out when your kid never brings home homework.
I've learned that its pretty cool that our oldest will present our youngest with his scholarship awards.
I've learned that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.
And lastly, I've learned that I can't wait to watch both our boys walk across their respective stages while I take 1,000 pictures and post them. And I won't apologize for it.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Monday, May 9, 2016
Not Just Another May
Would some please explain to me where the last four years...I mean 4,600+ days...have gone? How is it possible that the sweet, skinny, yet tall, little boy that took a header into the window at Wilson on his bike, and that quiet, yet sarcastic, little boy who took a baseball to the face and survived, are both graduating within the next 33 days?
Yes, more school is in the future for both boys, but wow those years flew by fast. I've realized as I've gotten older that days turn into weeks, weeks into months and months into years much faster than when we were jockeying from the little league diamonds to Greenfield Park, or packing the boys five deep in the back of the pickup truck after an especially wet football practice. I remember grand slams and hitting the grid iron playing both sides of the ball. I remember posing for pictures for dances, and skipping dances too. I remember getting the float ready for homecoming, and picking up loads of chairs and tables for fundraisers. I remember going on field trips and watching the boys faces light up when they were holding baby chickens. I remember an entire staff of coaches turning around and looking for us in the stands from the football field, after our oldest took an especially hard hit...and I remember my husband jumping over a fence to get to him. I remember our youngest taking a cleat to the face, a half inch below his eye. I remember staying up after a late Thursday night game while watching one do homework for the next day. I remember all the friends they made....and the ones I've made too.
We were informed by the Regional Director of Admission at Ripon that our oldest will be presenting our youngest with his scholarship awards at the academic awards night next week. Doug and I are so very proud of both of our boys, their accomplishments, and the men they have become.
The last month has been a whirlwind of getting ready for the final days of college, attending the senior gallery opening, watching our youngest at track and wondering if he actually studied for his AP Chem exam, and planning when we can go pick up all of our oldest's stuff.
Mothers Day weekend was spent getting a lot of work done, just like every other weekend, spending time with both our moms, going to a movie and having one last Sunday dinner before we have a college graduate.
There are days I wish we could turn back the clock and spend a little more time going through the younger years. So many days were spent at practice or games, where they learned how to be a team player, when to speak up and when to stick up for the little guy. Then there were the days that ended up in punches and swearing after an especially heated battle. I love when I check out Facebook and all those memories pop up, the good...and the bad. Perhaps I'm a little too dependent on what happened five years ago, but even more memories come flooding back when you see them.
I wish our dads were here to see the boys graduate. I know, in my heart, they are toasting them, and cursing they couldn't be here.
I am thankful that Doug and I, now 46 and 45, are on the cusp of this chapter of our lives coming to a close. I am more thankful the next chapter is just the first of many, many more. I am simply in awe of everything that has been accomplished these last 22+ years. So many milestones. Bad memories that fade with time, good memories that make us smile.
This is our 17th year of school. The last full month where we have a child in high school. There will be no more track meets. There will be no more dances. No more AP exams. No more handing over $5 for lunch. No more planning football fundraisers or taking 1,000 pictures on a Friday night. No videos of coaches singing in their office. There will be no more high school memories until our kids have kids of their own.
Being a parent is the hardest job on this planet. You have 18 years (ok maybe 22 years) to get it right, and hope to God that your kids are ready for the world. I'm actually more afraid the world might not be ready for them.
Yes, more school is in the future for both boys, but wow those years flew by fast. I've realized as I've gotten older that days turn into weeks, weeks into months and months into years much faster than when we were jockeying from the little league diamonds to Greenfield Park, or packing the boys five deep in the back of the pickup truck after an especially wet football practice. I remember grand slams and hitting the grid iron playing both sides of the ball. I remember posing for pictures for dances, and skipping dances too. I remember getting the float ready for homecoming, and picking up loads of chairs and tables for fundraisers. I remember going on field trips and watching the boys faces light up when they were holding baby chickens. I remember an entire staff of coaches turning around and looking for us in the stands from the football field, after our oldest took an especially hard hit...and I remember my husband jumping over a fence to get to him. I remember our youngest taking a cleat to the face, a half inch below his eye. I remember staying up after a late Thursday night game while watching one do homework for the next day. I remember all the friends they made....and the ones I've made too.
We were informed by the Regional Director of Admission at Ripon that our oldest will be presenting our youngest with his scholarship awards at the academic awards night next week. Doug and I are so very proud of both of our boys, their accomplishments, and the men they have become.
The last month has been a whirlwind of getting ready for the final days of college, attending the senior gallery opening, watching our youngest at track and wondering if he actually studied for his AP Chem exam, and planning when we can go pick up all of our oldest's stuff.
Mothers Day weekend was spent getting a lot of work done, just like every other weekend, spending time with both our moms, going to a movie and having one last Sunday dinner before we have a college graduate.
There are days I wish we could turn back the clock and spend a little more time going through the younger years. So many days were spent at practice or games, where they learned how to be a team player, when to speak up and when to stick up for the little guy. Then there were the days that ended up in punches and swearing after an especially heated battle. I love when I check out Facebook and all those memories pop up, the good...and the bad. Perhaps I'm a little too dependent on what happened five years ago, but even more memories come flooding back when you see them.
I wish our dads were here to see the boys graduate. I know, in my heart, they are toasting them, and cursing they couldn't be here.
I am thankful that Doug and I, now 46 and 45, are on the cusp of this chapter of our lives coming to a close. I am more thankful the next chapter is just the first of many, many more. I am simply in awe of everything that has been accomplished these last 22+ years. So many milestones. Bad memories that fade with time, good memories that make us smile.
This is our 17th year of school. The last full month where we have a child in high school. There will be no more track meets. There will be no more dances. No more AP exams. No more handing over $5 for lunch. No more planning football fundraisers or taking 1,000 pictures on a Friday night. No videos of coaches singing in their office. There will be no more high school memories until our kids have kids of their own.
Being a parent is the hardest job on this planet. You have 18 years (ok maybe 22 years) to get it right, and hope to God that your kids are ready for the world. I'm actually more afraid the world might not be ready for them.
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
59 days
Eight weeks and three days. That's what's left until our youngest son graduates high school. 59 days until he's free of getting up at 6:30 to go to his first class. Less than a month until he takes his final AP test. Less than two months left of high school track. Less than two weeks until he has an interview for a summer job. A month until awards night. Just over eight weeks of conversations with the coaches and teachers that have become friends, not just authorities. Those that have shaped him and helped him get ready for college. Less than four months until our youngest steps on campus to report for football practice, and then shortly there after his first college class, and the fraternity he can't wait to pledge.
Just over a month until our oldest walks across the stage at college. Resumes are being drafted, portfolios are being polished, Senior projects are being completed, and next steps are being made. The month will bring parties and events with the friends he made after he walked away from high school so eloquently and put the bullshit behind him. It also brings a ton of work but I promise it's worth it in the end. He'll walk the stage the day after the love of his life walks hers.
What does this mean for us as parents? It's the end of 17 years of elementary, middle and high school days and the beginning of another four years of education. We live two blocks from our kids grade school, where my husband went. Every time we drive by I think about the teachers that helped shape our boys. I think about the times the boys stopped in to see Mrs. Erickson and how she became more a friend than just another teacher. She helped our boys choose the paths they are on. We are one mile from their middle school where they found their love of art and chemistry, and two miles from the high school that polished their study habits and taught them who their true friends are, and where they spent days after day at practice, or in the weight room, to be ready for game day.
Our youngest came home with his cap and gown today and Shit.Got.Real. It's really 59 days. I remember 482 days. I remember 1,712 days. I remember 6,205 days. I remember countless practices, and games. I will remember baseball and football meetings and fundraisers galore. I'll be thankful for not having to go to conferences because frankly why go when your kids get A's. I'll remember being the homework Nazi and thank the Lord that I was, because when we write a check for $335.00 for a tuition bill that could have been $46,911 it will all make sense.
I hope our kids learned from us and realize that when we put our foot down, it was for a reason. It wasn't because we wanted them to hate us, or that we enjoyed the scowling at dinner. We were hard on them so they knew that actions brought consequences and you should never step over the line, unless you have a damn good reason.
Just four months until we are empty nesters. What does that mean? Smaller grocery bills, road trips to school and football games, not having to rush through dinner, and rediscovery. Movies just because. Date nights. Less laundry. And jars of peanut butter and gallons of milk that don't disappear.
Just 59 days until we are sitting in the gym at school watching our youngest walk across the stage with the kids we've watched grow up. Sixty days until we think what's next.
Just over a month until our oldest walks across the stage at college. Resumes are being drafted, portfolios are being polished, Senior projects are being completed, and next steps are being made. The month will bring parties and events with the friends he made after he walked away from high school so eloquently and put the bullshit behind him. It also brings a ton of work but I promise it's worth it in the end. He'll walk the stage the day after the love of his life walks hers.
What does this mean for us as parents? It's the end of 17 years of elementary, middle and high school days and the beginning of another four years of education. We live two blocks from our kids grade school, where my husband went. Every time we drive by I think about the teachers that helped shape our boys. I think about the times the boys stopped in to see Mrs. Erickson and how she became more a friend than just another teacher. She helped our boys choose the paths they are on. We are one mile from their middle school where they found their love of art and chemistry, and two miles from the high school that polished their study habits and taught them who their true friends are, and where they spent days after day at practice, or in the weight room, to be ready for game day.
Our youngest came home with his cap and gown today and Shit.Got.Real. It's really 59 days. I remember 482 days. I remember 1,712 days. I remember 6,205 days. I remember countless practices, and games. I will remember baseball and football meetings and fundraisers galore. I'll be thankful for not having to go to conferences because frankly why go when your kids get A's. I'll remember being the homework Nazi and thank the Lord that I was, because when we write a check for $335.00 for a tuition bill that could have been $46,911 it will all make sense.
I hope our kids learned from us and realize that when we put our foot down, it was for a reason. It wasn't because we wanted them to hate us, or that we enjoyed the scowling at dinner. We were hard on them so they knew that actions brought consequences and you should never step over the line, unless you have a damn good reason.
Just four months until we are empty nesters. What does that mean? Smaller grocery bills, road trips to school and football games, not having to rush through dinner, and rediscovery. Movies just because. Date nights. Less laundry. And jars of peanut butter and gallons of milk that don't disappear.
Just 59 days until we are sitting in the gym at school watching our youngest walk across the stage with the kids we've watched grow up. Sixty days until we think what's next.
Monday, March 21, 2016
From the desk of all things random and why resolutions don't work for me
I don't believe in making annual resolutions. I cannot commit to something where I will inevitably fail. In years past, I did believe in them. I would give up soda (for a while); I would lose weight (still trying); I would be a better wife/mom/daughter (this can't be a once a year thing...it's a forever thing).
Instead of making a resolution, a couple of months ago I made a promise to myself that I would spend more time blogging. I even wrote a note in my calendar to get out two blogs per week. Sadly, I've failed at that too. In January I was able to tackle four blogs, February, I was hot and heavy with nine (even doing double blogs on two days!), and March is off to a really slow start.
I haven't found anything I really wanted to write about. Maybe I'm waiting for the warmer weather when the trials of our next door neighbor (affectionately referred to as Chainsaw) will be in full swing again...I cannot wait until State Fair parking. Or maybe it will be about the grandma and son team across our street. Will she ever go inside or is she doomed to live on that porch forever? Or how about the 80-something old man that wanders down the street with his walker, and promptly sits down in front of random houses and falls asleep. Will I write about the day I finally delete the 50 people I have kept on Facebook because it's easier to hide their feed than to worry about the drama that I feel will happen if I delete them? (In hindsight, these people really need to be deleted ASAP)...there is one person I so want to write about, but I haven't.
Perhaps I should write about the last three weeks of work. Collectively, a group of us, had finally had enough and had gone to management and encouraged a personnel change. After that person was finally gone, I had the honor of trying to get their laptop back in order. It amazes me the things that were never done, the documents that were sent out of the office for personal use and the continual lies that happened on a daily basis. I'll be the first one to say the office is a much more relaxed place and people are finally meshing.
Or maybe I will write an entire book on turning 46 and how menopause doesn't mean you are old. I remember my mom going through it in her early 40's. (I swear though there are days I think she is still going through it at 77). She was old when I was growing up. I was born when she was 32. When I was in high school, I thought my parents were dinosaurs. Here I am at 45, my husband turning 46 and our youngest son almost 18. I'm only a few years younger than my mom was when I was 18. How is that even possible?
I read quite a few blogs when I have time, and some of the things they write about are completely ridiculous...I love that. Seriously...like writing about a family road trip through the southwestern US and seeing giant zombie hands sticking out of the ground. Or how about a blog that focusing on being a mom with young kids...why am I still reading this? At 17 and 22, our kids no longer have colic or throw tantrums (well, sort of, but not really).
I want to get back to writing about things that make people happy, or make me think, or even things that piss me off, without having to worry about what someone's reaction may be. I want to write about funny things and ridiculous things and things that make you think what the hell. I will be writing about random things that may or may not hit home. Like pregnant hypochondriacs, close talkers and stupid pet tricks.
After sending out a group message on Facebook today to a group of girlfriends, I've realized how we are all in the same boat. These are women that come from all facets of my life. High school friends, college friends, friends I've gained from being involved with our kids sports teams, and even one that was once an enemy. They are all a good sounding board...something that I needed today. Normally I just run things by my husband, but for this, I needed a woman's opinion. What better than 20+ women's opinions. (For all you guys that read my blog, if you know whats good for you, do not comment on this paragraph...it won't end well for you).
As for resolutions, they may work for you. If they do, bravo. I wish they worked for me. Instead, I'll just keep getting the blogs out when I can, or when I'm inspired. Maybe I'll give up the soda, and get healthy once and for all. As for the wife/mom/daughter challenge...they all know what they have with me, and they know I'm here for them.
Instead of making a resolution, a couple of months ago I made a promise to myself that I would spend more time blogging. I even wrote a note in my calendar to get out two blogs per week. Sadly, I've failed at that too. In January I was able to tackle four blogs, February, I was hot and heavy with nine (even doing double blogs on two days!), and March is off to a really slow start.
I haven't found anything I really wanted to write about. Maybe I'm waiting for the warmer weather when the trials of our next door neighbor (affectionately referred to as Chainsaw) will be in full swing again...I cannot wait until State Fair parking. Or maybe it will be about the grandma and son team across our street. Will she ever go inside or is she doomed to live on that porch forever? Or how about the 80-something old man that wanders down the street with his walker, and promptly sits down in front of random houses and falls asleep. Will I write about the day I finally delete the 50 people I have kept on Facebook because it's easier to hide their feed than to worry about the drama that I feel will happen if I delete them? (In hindsight, these people really need to be deleted ASAP)...there is one person I so want to write about, but I haven't.
Perhaps I should write about the last three weeks of work. Collectively, a group of us, had finally had enough and had gone to management and encouraged a personnel change. After that person was finally gone, I had the honor of trying to get their laptop back in order. It amazes me the things that were never done, the documents that were sent out of the office for personal use and the continual lies that happened on a daily basis. I'll be the first one to say the office is a much more relaxed place and people are finally meshing.
Or maybe I will write an entire book on turning 46 and how menopause doesn't mean you are old. I remember my mom going through it in her early 40's. (I swear though there are days I think she is still going through it at 77). She was old when I was growing up. I was born when she was 32. When I was in high school, I thought my parents were dinosaurs. Here I am at 45, my husband turning 46 and our youngest son almost 18. I'm only a few years younger than my mom was when I was 18. How is that even possible?
I read quite a few blogs when I have time, and some of the things they write about are completely ridiculous...I love that. Seriously...like writing about a family road trip through the southwestern US and seeing giant zombie hands sticking out of the ground. Or how about a blog that focusing on being a mom with young kids...why am I still reading this? At 17 and 22, our kids no longer have colic or throw tantrums (well, sort of, but not really).
I want to get back to writing about things that make people happy, or make me think, or even things that piss me off, without having to worry about what someone's reaction may be. I want to write about funny things and ridiculous things and things that make you think what the hell. I will be writing about random things that may or may not hit home. Like pregnant hypochondriacs, close talkers and stupid pet tricks.
After sending out a group message on Facebook today to a group of girlfriends, I've realized how we are all in the same boat. These are women that come from all facets of my life. High school friends, college friends, friends I've gained from being involved with our kids sports teams, and even one that was once an enemy. They are all a good sounding board...something that I needed today. Normally I just run things by my husband, but for this, I needed a woman's opinion. What better than 20+ women's opinions. (For all you guys that read my blog, if you know whats good for you, do not comment on this paragraph...it won't end well for you).
As for resolutions, they may work for you. If they do, bravo. I wish they worked for me. Instead, I'll just keep getting the blogs out when I can, or when I'm inspired. Maybe I'll give up the soda, and get healthy once and for all. As for the wife/mom/daughter challenge...they all know what they have with me, and they know I'm here for them.
Saturday, March 12, 2016
It's The Little Things
On this second Saturday of March, I've come across a few things that have annoyed me over the last few weeks. In no particular order:
Why does our chocolate lab crap in an eight foot long straight line, instead of a neat little pile? Does he think that it's going to get him?
The guy at the grocery store that insists on helping you load your groceries into your car and then inevitably smashes your bread? This is after he spots you from across the parking lot and sprints towards you like a zombie is going after his last meal and shouts at you "LET.ME.HELP.YOU!!!!!" Um, no. Thanks. And even better when I say, don't worry, I've got it...he shames me and says "your on your own!"
The shitstorm that was left after our boss was angry-mobbed out the door. Honey, did you do any work at all? EVER? Let's not forget the lies to our faces, the tiptoeing out the door in the middle of the day, and the sheer disappointment we all had we weren't in the room when it happened.
Being invited to a shower for a second child, just because it's the opposite sex. (Note, this has happened multiple times over the course of a year.) Just do what we did...dress up little Josie in her brothers onesie and call it a day.
The mud season. Honestly, our backyard looks like a family of pigs have taken up residence. And our black lab finds it necessary to do hot laps around the garage only to sit next you and piss on the driveway.
The fact that I have unfollowed, but not unfriended, at least a dozen people on Facebook because of their continual bitching, moaning, and lying. What bothers me more is I am messed in the head because I think it's just better to unfollow them then to deal with the drama that will unfold with 90 days left before graduation.
Getting a phone call to do the shit jobs and apparently none of my siblings can do. Honestly, I'm really not into picking up 10,000 acorns for my brother.
The realization that it has taken me years and a chance encounter of a book synopsis that someone in my life is a narcissist.
The douchebag(s) that decided it's ok to call in bomb threats. I don't care if you are 16. You need help, and possibly an ass whooping.
Grocery shopping and not knowing what the hell to cook. You can only have spaghetti or burgers so many times in a month.
The fact that I want to write, I know I can write, and have the desire to write the next great novel, but my mind is mush and all my ideas suck.
By all means, feel free to share your list. I could use some spark.
Why does our chocolate lab crap in an eight foot long straight line, instead of a neat little pile? Does he think that it's going to get him?
The guy at the grocery store that insists on helping you load your groceries into your car and then inevitably smashes your bread? This is after he spots you from across the parking lot and sprints towards you like a zombie is going after his last meal and shouts at you "LET.ME.HELP.YOU!!!!!" Um, no. Thanks. And even better when I say, don't worry, I've got it...he shames me and says "your on your own!"
The shitstorm that was left after our boss was angry-mobbed out the door. Honey, did you do any work at all? EVER? Let's not forget the lies to our faces, the tiptoeing out the door in the middle of the day, and the sheer disappointment we all had we weren't in the room when it happened.
Being invited to a shower for a second child, just because it's the opposite sex. (Note, this has happened multiple times over the course of a year.) Just do what we did...dress up little Josie in her brothers onesie and call it a day.
The mud season. Honestly, our backyard looks like a family of pigs have taken up residence. And our black lab finds it necessary to do hot laps around the garage only to sit next you and piss on the driveway.
The fact that I have unfollowed, but not unfriended, at least a dozen people on Facebook because of their continual bitching, moaning, and lying. What bothers me more is I am messed in the head because I think it's just better to unfollow them then to deal with the drama that will unfold with 90 days left before graduation.
Getting a phone call to do the shit jobs and apparently none of my siblings can do. Honestly, I'm really not into picking up 10,000 acorns for my brother.
The douchebag(s) that decided it's ok to call in bomb threats. I don't care if you are 16. You need help, and possibly an ass whooping.
Grocery shopping and not knowing what the hell to cook. You can only have spaghetti or burgers so many times in a month.
The fact that I want to write, I know I can write, and have the desire to write the next great novel, but my mind is mush and all my ideas suck.
By all means, feel free to share your list. I could use some spark.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
10 Facts My Children Should Know About Women
A good friend of mine posted a photo tonight, with this as the caption:
10 Facts Every Woman Should Know:
10 Facts Every Woman Should Know:
1. Everyone has rolls when they bend over.
2. When someone tells you that you're beautiful, believe them. They aren't lying.
3. Sometimes we all wake up with breath that could kill a goat.
4. For every woman unhappy with her stretch marks is another woman who wishes she had them.
5. You should definitely have more confidence. And if you saw yourself the way others see you, you would.
6. Don't look for a man to save you. Be able to save yourself.
7. It's okay to not love every part of your body....but you should.
8. We all have that one friend who seems to have it all together. That woman with the seemingly perfect life. Well, you might be that woman to someone else.
9. You should be a priority. Not an option, a last resort, or a backup plan.
10. You're a woman. That alone makes you pretty damn remarkable.
Everything on this list is spot on.
She has two daughters, the same ages as our boys. Both daughters are fiercely independent and often times challenge everything she taught them. We became fast friends in 2008 after being introduced by our oldest kids. We spent the evening carting around our kids, and at least fifteen more with the help of another couple. It was an epic night, spent crawling, walking and running (!) around a haunted woods.
I can only imagine what it's like to raise daughters, since my life has been surrounded with jeans wearing, football playing, hole digging and toilet missing boys. I grew up with three brothers and a tom-boy sister. My best friends were guys. I only wore dresses under protest, and my idea of a date night can often be cheap pizza and a movie. When my husband and I decided to have kids, we knew we were going to have boys...at least a pretty good idea we would have boys, since he came from a family whose boy/girl ratio is about 95%/5%. I thanked our lucky stars we had boys. I am confident I would not have made a good mom to girls.
With that being said, I would love to write the 10 facts that every man should know. But, I'm a realist, and I have no idea what a man should know, because even if I write them down, they wouldn't listen. I will, however, give you the 10 Facts My Children Should Know (About Women) as a supplement to the above list:
1. Yes, she might have rolls, but they make her, her. Never, ever, ever mention them. You are not perfect. If you claim to be perfect, have her call me, and I will break out every childhood secret that you thought I've forgotten.
2. Tell her she's beautiful, even when she's wearing your old sweatpants and a t-shirt from the hamper.
3. Truth. Sorry. If it's that bad, yours is probably worse.
4. You won't get this until you decide to have kids. Stretch marks, cesarean scars and saggy boobs are part of the package. If she has them it means she birthed your children. If she doesn't, it doesn't make her less of a woman. Make sure she knows that.
5. Be her biggest fan. Give her a pep talk when you know she needs to deal with a shitty boss or has a huge project due. And make sure you check in on her after you know she's done. It means you care.
6. She really doesn't need you. If dad and I raised you right, she's independent, won't take your shit and still choose you. Give her a reason to need you.
7. Even if she doesn't love every part of her body, you should.
8. If she talks about her seemingly perfect friend, don't agree with her. Cut her friend down even if you think her friend is more put-together than your wife/girlfriend. If you don't, it will end badly for you. I promise you that.
9. She is a priority. Yes, you can go out with your friends, but be certain to never question when she goes out with hers. Trust that no matter where she goes, she will come home to you.
10. She.Is.Remarkable. Period. Make sure she knows that.
I hope my children read this, but if they don't, I will read it to them. They may roll their eyes or pay attention to their cell phone instead. But I know that in my heart they already know this because of how my husband treats me.
❤
2. When someone tells you that you're beautiful, believe them. They aren't lying.
3. Sometimes we all wake up with breath that could kill a goat.
4. For every woman unhappy with her stretch marks is another woman who wishes she had them.
5. You should definitely have more confidence. And if you saw yourself the way others see you, you would.
6. Don't look for a man to save you. Be able to save yourself.
7. It's okay to not love every part of your body....but you should.
8. We all have that one friend who seems to have it all together. That woman with the seemingly perfect life. Well, you might be that woman to someone else.
9. You should be a priority. Not an option, a last resort, or a backup plan.
10. You're a woman. That alone makes you pretty damn remarkable.
Everything on this list is spot on.
She has two daughters, the same ages as our boys. Both daughters are fiercely independent and often times challenge everything she taught them. We became fast friends in 2008 after being introduced by our oldest kids. We spent the evening carting around our kids, and at least fifteen more with the help of another couple. It was an epic night, spent crawling, walking and running (!) around a haunted woods.
I can only imagine what it's like to raise daughters, since my life has been surrounded with jeans wearing, football playing, hole digging and toilet missing boys. I grew up with three brothers and a tom-boy sister. My best friends were guys. I only wore dresses under protest, and my idea of a date night can often be cheap pizza and a movie. When my husband and I decided to have kids, we knew we were going to have boys...at least a pretty good idea we would have boys, since he came from a family whose boy/girl ratio is about 95%/5%. I thanked our lucky stars we had boys. I am confident I would not have made a good mom to girls.
With that being said, I would love to write the 10 facts that every man should know. But, I'm a realist, and I have no idea what a man should know, because even if I write them down, they wouldn't listen. I will, however, give you the 10 Facts My Children Should Know (About Women) as a supplement to the above list:
1. Yes, she might have rolls, but they make her, her. Never, ever, ever mention them. You are not perfect. If you claim to be perfect, have her call me, and I will break out every childhood secret that you thought I've forgotten.
2. Tell her she's beautiful, even when she's wearing your old sweatpants and a t-shirt from the hamper.
3. Truth. Sorry. If it's that bad, yours is probably worse.
4. You won't get this until you decide to have kids. Stretch marks, cesarean scars and saggy boobs are part of the package. If she has them it means she birthed your children. If she doesn't, it doesn't make her less of a woman. Make sure she knows that.
5. Be her biggest fan. Give her a pep talk when you know she needs to deal with a shitty boss or has a huge project due. And make sure you check in on her after you know she's done. It means you care.
6. She really doesn't need you. If dad and I raised you right, she's independent, won't take your shit and still choose you. Give her a reason to need you.
7. Even if she doesn't love every part of her body, you should.
8. If she talks about her seemingly perfect friend, don't agree with her. Cut her friend down even if you think her friend is more put-together than your wife/girlfriend. If you don't, it will end badly for you. I promise you that.
9. She is a priority. Yes, you can go out with your friends, but be certain to never question when she goes out with hers. Trust that no matter where she goes, she will come home to you.
10. She.Is.Remarkable. Period. Make sure she knows that.
I hope my children read this, but if they don't, I will read it to them. They may roll their eyes or pay attention to their cell phone instead. But I know that in my heart they already know this because of how my husband treats me.
❤
Friday, February 19, 2016
The Things That Keep Me Up At Night
Every night it takes me a good two hours to fall asleep once I crawl into bed. My husband can, and does, fall asleep within minutes of his head hitting the pillow. I can't fall asleep that fast in bed, but put me in the truck and I'm like a baby snuggled up in her car seat being lulled to sleep by the movement of the drive.
I have been been guilty of taking three hour naps on a Sunday afternoon. Three.Hours. That's not a nap, that's half a nights sleep!
Some of the random things that have popped in my head of late while trying to fall asleep:
Wanting just one more chapter. I'm digging into a good book and I don't want to stop reading. If I do I know I can't pick it up again until after a full day of work.
Why do the dogs find it necessary to act like ninjas and sneak onto the bed and then lay directly on my ankle bone.
What's it going to be like when we are empty nesters? How will the grocery bills drop? Will I be able to cook for two instead of four? When will we see the kids? Will our oldest show our youngest the ropes, or will the youngest because a victim of being duct taped to the wall? Will our youngest analyze everyone he comes in contact with? Will he call home?
What will it be like on Friday night's in fall when we aren't at football games? What's it going to be like getting free time back?
Why is it that my mother plays favorites and is ok with not keeping in contact with all five of her children?
Once our kids finish college, how often will we see them?
Why do people only contact you when they need something? We have had someone reach out that pretty much thinks they are entitled, but haven't talked to us in months.
What's with teenage girls sticking their tongues out in every picture. (This doesn't keep me up at night, I just want to know why. You might as well add bathroom selfies and gangster poses to the mix.)
Why is it that no matter how settled I am in bed, inevitably I need to pee?
Is it possible to pick up a dream that you started the night before?
What will it take for me to get my teaching license?
Will anyone ever buy my photographs? What about my book?
Does my blog even matter?
Will this be a good year?
I need to try putting down the book at night and attempt to go to sleep at a decent hour. Honey, I promise I will try not to alligator roll and steal all the covers, if you promise to stop falling asleep so fast. And puppies, stop farting in bed. It isn't cool.
I have been been guilty of taking three hour naps on a Sunday afternoon. Three.Hours. That's not a nap, that's half a nights sleep!
Some of the random things that have popped in my head of late while trying to fall asleep:
Wanting just one more chapter. I'm digging into a good book and I don't want to stop reading. If I do I know I can't pick it up again until after a full day of work.
Why do the dogs find it necessary to act like ninjas and sneak onto the bed and then lay directly on my ankle bone.
What's it going to be like when we are empty nesters? How will the grocery bills drop? Will I be able to cook for two instead of four? When will we see the kids? Will our oldest show our youngest the ropes, or will the youngest because a victim of being duct taped to the wall? Will our youngest analyze everyone he comes in contact with? Will he call home?
What will it be like on Friday night's in fall when we aren't at football games? What's it going to be like getting free time back?
Why is it that my mother plays favorites and is ok with not keeping in contact with all five of her children?
Once our kids finish college, how often will we see them?
Why do people only contact you when they need something? We have had someone reach out that pretty much thinks they are entitled, but haven't talked to us in months.
What's with teenage girls sticking their tongues out in every picture. (This doesn't keep me up at night, I just want to know why. You might as well add bathroom selfies and gangster poses to the mix.)
Why is it that no matter how settled I am in bed, inevitably I need to pee?
Is it possible to pick up a dream that you started the night before?
What will it take for me to get my teaching license?
Will anyone ever buy my photographs? What about my book?
Does my blog even matter?
Will this be a good year?
I need to try putting down the book at night and attempt to go to sleep at a decent hour. Honey, I promise I will try not to alligator roll and steal all the covers, if you promise to stop falling asleep so fast. And puppies, stop farting in bed. It isn't cool.
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