The Slow Clap, Eye Roll

We have all been standing in line at the grocery store next to that one mom that likes to overshare her gluten free non-dairy vegan household success stories and your internal self can’t help but give a long slow clap eye roll when she says, “My son Amadeus isn’t allowed to watch TV, probably because we don’t even own one!” I’m happy for all your non-bribery related parenting wins, but I gotta do what I gotta do as a Mom to survive until bedtime each day.

Here is the short list that warrant the internal eye roll:

My kids don’t/will never/have never...

1.      Eat sugar, gluten, formula or fast food

2.      Watch TV

3.      Play on my phone or any other "electronic device"

4.     Use bottles or pacifiers

The worst offenders are the "when I have kids they will never" and here is the look I would give trying to suppress a laugh (only it's much cuter and more polite when I show my daughter doing it).

Every mom everywhere at one time or another is guilty of being a sugar dispensing, yelling, bribing, spoiling, enabler all while using TV or tablets as pacifiers or babysitters and to those that say they aren't, well all I have to say is...

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The Parenthood Percentage

If you are like me the math portion of your brain got derailed by Shakespeare and so you married an engineer ensuring your children would obtain equal parts English major, equal parts mathematical genius which is destined to produce some well-rounded offspring. I have come up with a formula that I will coin the Parenthood Percentage. As you will quickly notice these numbers do not add up to 100%, which means my formula is flawed, just like my parenting. Those of you looking forward to becoming parents or are living to tell the tale can refer to these like you do your vitamin label, but substitute 100% vitamin C for 100% love and chaos.

20% stepping on toys with your bare feet and trying not to curse.

67% opening your mouth and hearing your parent’s words come out.

92% repeating these phrases: please stop, because I said so, I love you.

30% hearing them play happily and waiting for the inevitable scream.

36% worrying about the next strain of bird or goat flu.

44% using words like “blessed” and “grateful” that in your former life would make you gag and roll your eyes.

71% enduring other people’s “words of wisdom” that you don’t remember asking for.

1% sleeping, but 99% complaining about not sleeping.

82% looking for shoes, 18% putting them on.

27% finding the karmic hilarity in all your quirks and stubbornness reflected so perfectly in your tiny human clones.

100% grateful that this is now your life.

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Motherhood: A Fine Line Between Humility & Humiliation

Just when I am starting to feel confident in my abilities as a mother or simply as a human being, my child will wipe a booger in my hair as I am tripping over a Lego. Just today I finally got ahead of the laundry only to open the washing machine and find that my oldest took it upon herself to change her nap time diaper by disposing of it in her hamper—which naturally ended up in the wash.

I’m going to go ahead and put it out there; many of the most dangerous and challenging moments in parenthood take place when I need to use the bathroom. I could probably rename my blog: Tales from the Toilet, but I'm not sure the kind of crowd I'd attract. These are the times when my children have stuck a bean in their nose, licked hand-sanitizer and attempted to ride the dog. Recently, on one such occasion I was cleaning our home for the 10 millionth time in two weeks. I thought I’d take a second to answer the call of nature when just over my head I heard the sound of tiny feet. I peered out from my seated position to see my oldest sitting peacefully on the couch, which left my only other offspring as the one venturing up the stairs (when she is not yet steady enough to be on the stair unattended). As a two-story home owner I can tell you, I’ve had nightmares about my children on the stairs, so I barreled out of the bathroom as pantsless as the day my children were born. I managed to catch my daughter at the top of the stairs, but didn’t pay any attention to my attire for the next few hours, since I was just so relieved she didn’t hurt herself.

After dropping my kids with my mom, I managed to finish cleaning. I was outside emptying the trash, mentally remarking on just how glamorous my life had become when my (male) neighbor (stay with me, I swear it's relevant) pulled up congratulating us on the sold sign on our front lawn. I told him about our plans to move and I went on to boast of our good fortune buying for the first time at the bottom of the market- even managing to throw around a fancy word like "equity". I wandered inside happy to have a second of adult interaction and it was in that moment I realized I had tucked my shirt into my plainly visible underwear. Now one might think this would be embarrassing, but see this is just a typical Tuesday for anybody with children.

In motherhood, we are constantly walking a fine line between humility and humiliation. My hope for you is always the former, but don’t be surprised when inevitably you get caught with your pants down.

I tell myself they are not laughing at me, but with me 😂

I tell myself they are not laughing at me, but with me 😂

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