Adventures In Motherhood

My 13-year-old is stubborn. I am reminded of this as he begrudgingly drags the garbage bag around the house emptying trashcans, the large white Glad plastic bag busting at the seams, in order to instill fear in his mother of it exploding all over the carpet. In an effort to relinquish control and ease my burden, I can no longer watch the stubborn parade of trash. His antics began when he was merely a toddler, age two. Pregnant for the third time and literally busting at the seams myself, I desperately needed his cooperation in order to pick up his sister on time from pre-school. "No!" he shouted, running as fast as his little legs could propel himself up to his bedroom, slamming the door before his weary mother could catch him. Fuming mad, knowing the time was ticking towards the preschool pickup tardy bell and I would face repercussions, the least of which would be judgment and lecture, I struggled to mount the stairs after him. Needless to say, I was additionally tardy

Parenting is not perfect. In fact, it's unsightly at times when behaviors escalate and parents have to pull their shit together, remain relatively calm, and adult the heck out of an unfavorable situation. This is increasingly difficult in public, when all eyes are on the Tasmanian devil of a child who is your responsibility to manage whilst stares of judgment penetrate your parental psyche. Recently I was reminded that my boys seem to lose their minds on family 'trips', as I deliberately reserve the word vacation for romantic getaways not involving children. Escaping for our 20th anniversary a few years ago, we opted to take our four children to Disneyland and Laguna Beach, a milestone celebration we wanted our children to remember. Albeit not a romantic couples vacation, the trip seemed achievable without babies in tow. Managing daily entertainment at Disney or the beach with children ages 5, 8, 10 and 12 was easy compared to the evenings when melt downs began and no am

I've recently found myself drained from world news, a hurtful text, angry drivers, incompetent customer service, the hectic back to school and sports scheduling of four kids, our new time consuming puppy, the change in seasons, missing longtime friends so distant, and lack of purpose from professional work in which I previously had an impact, you name it! I am human. This too shall pass; I thought to myself, I'm generally a positive, energetic, outgoing individual, yet find myself devoid of courage to write anything in pursuit of my goals. Stuck in a rut by my first world problems, not insurmountable, I felt guilty. I even contemplated searching for employment again, as if that would solve my issues or fill me with exuberance, as the constant stay-at-home-mom battle of fulfillment and judgment waged war in my head. It's during these melancholic times that I have been touched with grace, whether a phone call, note from a friend, or a sermon last Sunday in church remindin

I can't help but laugh at my lack of agility as of late as I sit on an ice pack nursing my hip from last weekend's yard work extravaganza. I often underestimate my abilities and pay the price later, but who can blame me for envisioning myself as fit and fast as my children? Recently they challenged me to an outdoor Parkour obstacle course that looked easy. Why not? I thought, imagining myself showing off my cat like reflexes and surely matching their pace, not my age. I aspired to be the fastest woman of the Parkour Challenge and confident this Tough Mother could outpace anyone! As I surveyed the course of wooden obstacles, I imagined the CIA training course of my youth. In my twenties, there were no obstacles that could hold me back and everyone banded together to accomplish the course. Over the wall, despite my small stature, a test of fitness and badge of pride earned! Somewhat lacking the chutzpah to immediately tackle the Parkour course, I carefully strategized my