The Happy to my Holidays

Hurry parents everywhere so we can stand in line for hours all to have a jolly stranger hold our kids so they can cry while we take a picture to post on social media with the hashtag #santafail. No, but really. If there is a Christmas-themed park, tree lot, or reindeer sleigh within a 15-mile radius of my house we are so there. I know, I’m just as surprised as you! Things that I would have thought would be irritating, like dressing my girls in matching outfits every day, turns out are actually kind of spectacular.

This sounds totally nuts, but I woke up November 24th with the holiday spirit all thanks to my two little elves who are starting to believe in the magic of Christmas and if I didn’t know any better I, too, would swear that there will be a fat man scooting down my chimney in less than 3 weeks.  

Like everything that happens with children it is all about managing your expectations and this time of year is no exception…

Rather than go out into the wilderness with a chainsaw in 20 feet of snow, my Clark drove us the 3 minutes down the way to our local Boy Scout lot. What was supposed to be one 10-foot tree turned into a 12-foot tree and two 4-foot trees, which my girls hauled off the lot all by themselves. Their new favorite game is how many pine needles can they shove up each other’s nose before sneezing them out? So far they’ve made it to 3.

Davis has a Children’s Candlelight Parade to the Christmas tree lighting downtown every year and call me over-protective but I would have thought they’d pass out flameless candles. We arrived in their matching flannel jammies and I noticed a 9-month-old holding a very real candle next to my highly flammable children. I guess that’s why the fire truck is also in the parade. We proceeded to walk without our candles lit as my girls held up traffic and had to be escorted by yours truly and the police out of the middle of the intersection. We left before the tree was lit.

The 30 seconds before I blew them out.

We have decorated a dozen cookies every day for the past 7 days. I’ve gained at least a pound a day and my girls think that frosting goes well on their tiny trees (aka broccoli). 

Baby it’s cold outside, but this doesn’t stop any child anywhere from wanting to play outdoors. Just today in the blistering wind we went out with friends to Silveyville Tree Farm and rode a sleigh led by a (fake) reindeer through a forest of Christmas trees. It was just us on the sleigh due to the wind chill—but Charlotte leaned in towards Maddie, took her hand and then gave her a kiss. I almost couldn’t even write this today because my heart exploded with love.

In this holidaze, things will never go according to your plan or agenda—because, well, kids. But they are the star on the tree, the light in the darkness, the sprinkles on sugar cookies, and the kiss under the mistletoe, if you only choose to believe.

My So-Called Glamorous Life

The moment Beyoncé came out with her Instagram twins photo debut I realized, sadly, her and I could never be friends. It wasn’t the belly button scandal or all their names bordering on child abuse that bothered me; it was how completely inauthentic this documentation of motherhood was in every way imaginable. My glamorous version of being a mom has never included a veil or a flowered archway.

Cut to my so-called glamorous life where I spent the morning in the bathroom at Kaiser trying to convince my 3-year-old to pee with my hand all the way inside the toilet bowel. If you have ever had the pleasure of getting a sterile urine sample from your child, I cannot recommend it enough. At first she started laughing, thinking I was trying to pinch her bottom, which I often do after bath because their teeny tiny tushies are just too cute not to. Then she gave me her first look of embarrassed mortification, which if I do my job right as a mother, I can expect many more to come in her teen years. It was about that time that Madeleine discovered my wallet and started flinging my credit cards all over the bathroom floor as well as into the trash can. Scared I was going to miss my urine window of opportunity I grabbed Madeleine and we sat next to the toilet bowel while I told them the story of The Little Mermaid hoping the water theme would get something flowing. My only break came in the form of an elderly Chinese man walking in on us, since naturally the girls had unlocked the door. 25 minutes later I started to feel some warm drops on hand just as Maddie used my shirt to wipe her snot as she coughed into my boobs. After washing all of our hands like we were about to go into surgery, we emerged back into the waiting room where I was half expecting a round of applause; but was met with only droves of other unhappy sick people. I bet they would have clapped for Beyoncé.

This is not exactly how I envisioned parenthood.

I pictured story time with all of us snuggled in bed. Not finding a soggy graham cracker under the sheets at 3 in the morning. I saw family road trips to exciting locations. Not my car turning into a wasteland for lost socks and snacks. I dreamed of bath time with bubbles and giggles. Not my oldest trying to get her sisters’ toes stuck down the drain. There is very little glamor in motherhood and yet somehow it still manages to be just so darn beautiful.

Parenting with Zero Forks

Recently I overheard a mom describe how mortified she was when her toddler wouldn’t pose for a class picture.

“I had to stand in with her just to get her to stop screaming.”

How exhausting, I thought to myself. Parenting is already more tiring than trying to stay awake during an episode of Caillou after taking Nyquil for the cold your kid shared by affectionately licking your eyeball; why waste time worrying what other people think?

I remember it well-- the exact moment I decided it was probably easier for all parties involved if I focused on what really mattered and less on giving a fork. I was in labor and just like in the movies I truly believed that the nurse was grabbing a sheet to cover me up; however she was actually grabbing my leg to allow for greater baby accessibility and much less mommy modesty. And so it began.

Of course it is always wonderful when your children surprise you and act like well-mannered, well-rehearsed royalty when we are out in public. This was the case yesterday when we scored a 2 for 1 trip to the dentist. I brought my mom along for reinforcements in case they flipped the switch into wild animal-mode where one bolts for the parking lot just as the other one is raiding the treasure chest. My kids were so good, other hygienists lined up in the hallway to marvel at my well-dressed, ridiculously compliant little angels. My girls loved it so much, we are skipping Disneyland another year and just booking our next 6-month appointment.

Do I often fall victim to the Facebook parenting anomaly where we only post pictures of our children holding hands and smiling in hopes that someone else finds it heartwarming? Absolutely, because no one wants to see a picture of me crying in the parking lot of Target, which I’ve done twice...this month...so far. I didn’t cry the time I got mom-shamed by a fellow mom because I let my toddlers ride trikes freely down the toy aisle—no that woman clearly has her own demons to work through. But I did cry the time I had to abandon our full cart of necessities because my youngest had taken it upon herself to try potty training in the public restroom and wound up ankle deep standing inside a dirty toilet. I felt zero embarrassment as I carried out one naked toddler and one screaming toddler; only frustration that Target doesn’t have a drive-thru window. See I prefer to spend my energy tackling struggles directly affecting my kiddos and anything I have left over I put towards dressing my girls in matching outfits.

If I had a dollar for every time my kids did something "embarrassing" out in public we could open our own restaurant where our motto would be, “Eat here where your children can tantrum, throw food, cause a scene--we’ve seen it all and we don’t give a fork”.