The Unamusing Act of Adulting

Almost everything about becoming an adult stinks. Not only do you no longer get checks in the mail from various relatives on your birthday, but somehow you now need to be the responsible one that ensures everyone wears jackets and no one eats the Fruit Loops they find on the playground. There is a pumpkin patch by our house that allows kids to hold baby chicks, ducks, bunnies and kittens basically the full cornucopia of cuteness. Please see exhibit A below and try not to smile (I dare you).

While my youngest was attempting to ride the pregnant pigmy goats, I overheard a fellow mother telling her kids, “We can’t get a bunny because they are not for sale.”

Her 8-year-old, without missing a beat, pointed out a large sign that said, “All animals are for sale” (boy that’s going to be hard to get out of stuff when my kids can read).

“Well, we don’t have enough room for a bunny.”

“But we have enough room for a dog?”

Checkmate. I could see this moms' convictions slowly breaking down—especially since she had lead with such a weak opening argument. I’m going to go ahead and spoil the ending of this story and tell you that they left with not one, but two bunnies.

I have a vivid memory of myself as a young child begging my Dad for a candy bar at the grocery store. My parents go-to was always, “We can’t afford it.” Not because we couldn’t afford it, but sometimes as a parent you need to come up with creative new ways for "no". I thought to myself that when I became a grown-up, I’d always fill my cart with candy bars and baby bunnies. Fast forward to my so-called grown-up life where I have to be the one to explain to the family why we cannot get a 3rd dog. I told them it's because it would make Macie and Lola sad, but that's just code for I simply cannot handle any more poop in my life. I just can’t.

Of course I want to sit on my back porch eating king-sized Reese Peanut Butter Cups watching my children snuggle with their 50 Dwarf bunnies. I want to be the mom that surprises her kids with a trip to Disneyland and turns our backyard into a giant petting zoo. But all of those animals will die one day or need rabies shots and I would be the one explaining to two inconsolable little girls why all dogs go to heaven, while my husband digs a shallow grave in hopes we aren’t accidentally unburying another deceased pet. I go back to my original point—it stinks to be a grown-up and justifies why we didn’t leave the pumpkin patch with any baby animals. Somehow becoming an adult and a mom has turned me into the voice of realism and reason, however when it all gets a little too real, I still allow my inner child to victoriously eat raw cookie dough.

Modern Mom

I consider myself a modern mom. What I mean is that I will use the latest and greatest of what’s available out there to my advantage to help make a seemingly impossible job, possible.

I am completely serious when I tell you that I called my husband several months ago crying real tears at the moment I discovered that Amazon Fresh (the grocery delivery service) was available for our zip code.

“I feel like I’ve just been given the gift of time,” I sobbed.

My husband, who, if you include our two dogs, lives in a house of 5 females, is well-versed in the art of the over-reaction. So much so he doesn’t even blink when Charlotte throws herself on the ground while proclaiming she is going to go live at Rowan’s because it’s time to brush the toothpaste out of her hair. Never again will you find me smelling cantaloupes in the produce aisle while my children pelt each other with grapes. 

“That’s so exciting, Love. Do they sell like fruits and vegetables and stuff?”

Yes. Literally everything from organic milk to the restoration of my sanity.

I love cooking. I am a sucker for "Top Chef" and all reality shows that make me want to lick my TV screen. However, if I’m going to spend more than 30 minutes preparing a meal for my family, I need to take out the guesswork as well as eliminate that frustrating moment when I realize I’ve left the store without a crucial ingredient. Before Blue Apron I thought "Bok Choy" was the sound you made when you had something caught in your throat. Blue Apron provides me with a healthy variety I would never even think to consider and has reestablished my love of cooking. Just the other day my husband turned to me and said, “Turns out I do like bell peppers.” I rest my case.

Ever since we moved into our new house our oldest daughter has had trouble staying in her room at night. We’ve tried everything from nightlights to musical beds. I started thinking back to my sleep troubles as a kid and remembered sometimes I just needed to check that my parents were still in the next room and not out doing anything more fun than sleeping. We have video monitors to watch our daughters in their rooms so I thought, why not put a video monitor on me and my husband (since all privacy is lost anyways once you enter the delivery room) this way she can check on us too in the middle of the night without ever leaving her bed and most importantly without ever waking us up. So far, it’s the best $62 we’ve spent to date. Plus now we are one step closer to basically filming our own reality TV show.

I am so sick of all the bad news. Sick to the point that everything leaves my body now in liquid form and I am terrified to check the headlines in the morning. I opted not to write last week because I was not up for sugar coating the state of the world or provide answers for the really tough questions because I have none. But I awoke to someone requesting a little light in this darkness and that I’m happy to provide.

Motherhood is...

It’s tempting to get existential when you sit down and ponder motherhood. You created a life that is all the best parts of you and quite simply put; life is a miracle. I’d like to take a moment and bring us all back down to reality and describe the real essence of this experience in some simple sentences that help to sum it all up.

Motherhood is walking the line daily between nervous breakdown and best day of your life.

Motherhood is none of the glory of throwing things on the floor, but all of the manual labor of cleaning it up.

Motherhood is exactly like an episode of "Caillou", except not at all.

Motherhood begins each morning with the peaceful Canadian approach and by 7pm you have moved onto a nonsensical Twitter Trump rant.

Motherhood is stopping to standup midstream while your toddler opens the door and exposes you to the entire line at Starbucks.

Motherhood is boycotting laundry only to discover with your children naked most of the time you are the only party negatively affected by the strike.

Motherhood is 10% buying practical toddler shoes and 90% trying to locate said shoes only to recognize that they no longer fit.

Motherhood is having poison control, pizza delivery and your therapist on speed dial.

Motherhood is simply wonderful.

There is no other experience on Earth quite like being a mother. It is different with every child, every day and every breath. That sounds completely overwhelming because it is just that. But the good news, however, is that if you are ever looking for answers in parenthood, your children will always carry the answers.