Adventures In Motherhood

It’s just a used car. That’s what I told myself when we bought a second vehicle, smaller than a mom-minivan and bright fire engine red in color so our 16-year-old daughter could be seen coming and going. A shiny 5-star crash rated 2016 Hyundai Elantra; a Tesla compared to the rusty blue Datsun I drove in high school. The Datsun, a veritable Flintstone-mobile with a rusted out floor spraying sleet and rain on backseat passengers, was my ticket to freedom. The Elantra was my husband’s new sporty wheels to share with four kids. With street congestion and the planet burning up, we prefer life in the bike lane, except for our daughter. With Driver’s Ed in the rear view mirror, my carefully drafted parental contract signed, and cautious driver flying solo behind the wheel, unable to drive anyone but family per state law, we breathed a sigh of relief. The sibling carpool potential had me feeling giddy, a win-win for this taxi-driving mom! Father’s Day baseball tournam...

Be careful or the negative will consume you, I thought to myself summoning the energy to raise much-needed positive endorphins on a morning run. The 24-hour news cycle, global temps rising, and Customer Care Representatives who suck me bone dry will require a longer run this morning to combat the negative slime oozing in our country and polluting my mind. Keep America Great! The irony when 'customer care' reps deny, deny, deny or someone from India answers. Aetna health insurance is the bane of my existence after seven phone calls, each a minimum hour-long blood boiling conversation having diminishing returns on my mental health (which is also likely not covered). And what happened to common courtesy? Last night a lady refused to zipper merge me onto I-5 south, throwing up her hands in anger, as if it made her a better driver! I gave her thumbs up instead. Then there's the mid-century modern sofa we purchased supporting a boutique local business thinking it would be grand...

Parenthood is a Mensa mental challenge these days of major league proportions. Uncomfortable silence be damned! You are my son and I will keep rattling off topics requiring more than a yes/no answer until the cows come home, as we pass the pastures and rolling hills of Oregon en route to our latest baseball tournament. The hour and location unimportant, I have a GPS and my only goal is time alone with you. With four children, a car ride alone with you is a passable date as I step up to the plate. Deep voice and prickly moustache amidst your fourteen-year-old complexion, I can still see the almost 8lb 12.5oz little slugger with handsome sideburns gazing in my eyes with wonder. I know you still need your mom even though your replies sound more like grunts. Why is the answer to what you and your buddies ate for dinner while skateboarding last night 'stuff'? I'm mom and you're safe! This is my first time parenting a teen boy. Grunts and stuff may be the norm though ...

I'm convinced grandmas regain creative energy zapped from exhausted parents. This is why I pulled out my mother's dusty care package of 'Make Your Own Bubble Tea', hidden out of reach in the depths of a kitchen cabinet, when she came to visit. Who has time to make dinner, let alone bubble tea, with end of year concerts and baseball 7 days a week? Besides, the army of frozen bananas edging out the frozen veggies in my freezer drawer is evidence my former banana bread ambition had petrified. I surrendered control years ago to sandwiches in the car! Grandma surely has the stamina and fresh outlook I am lacking, rolling up her sleeves with a smile on her face as my eager 8-year-old son sidled up next to her at the counter to measure ingredients. Grandma always has everything under control, I thought to myself stepping away, grateful to manage one less duty. "Careful," I cautioned my son who placed a glass measuring cup on the edge of the sink, "it could fal...

This is a shitty story. Honestly, from my son who woke up sick, to my daughter who left her shit everywhere, to the dog who shit in my car. Either way it stinks to high heaven! I'm effing tired of reminding my sixteen-year-old daughter to pick up her shit. We simply don't have the square footage divided by six people and two dogs to allow for any one person to occupy the entire house with their belongings. I hurdle her shit on the stairs to the basement, on my way to the kitchen, and out the front door. You'd think I'd be in tiptop athletic shape! Unfortunately I stubbed my toe on a chair tripping over her Vans, Nikes and Blundstone shoes to lock the front door before bed last night. Hobbling my way to the kitchen to shut off the lights and grab my cup of freshly microwaved Sleepytime tea, I couldn't help but notice my computer still sitting unplugged on the dining room table. "Yeah, mom," I distinctly remember my daughter saying as she ‘Vlogged’ her f...

Mentally preparing for my oldest driving alone behind the wheel by the end of the month, I can't help but shake my head at the blur of 16 years gone by. Sweet 16? As I pound this pack of gummy bears, a sick vice to withhold my tears and cope with my son's 12th birthday party tonight, I can't help but think how did we get here? Obviously, with piss poor prior planning! (Who in their right mind has two outta four kids' birthdays within four days of each other?) Luckily, I'm only pounding gummy bears and we've been graced with a bit of good luck! I'll admit I had my doubts the first few years of my daughter's life with her choices from sandboxes to scissors but fortunately she's proven National Honor Society material, which is more than I can say for myself! I'd be remiss if I didn't share a few journal gems along the way. January 2005 I need a frickin' nap. One month to go and I'll be popping out baby #2 (20 hours faster than the ...

I'm pregnant! That's exactly what I told my boys, husband included, at the breakfast table this morning. Their reactions were worth the cost of admission to this nuthouse and an April Fools joke I honestly didn't think I could pull off! Truth told, I forgot about April Fools’ Day, still recovering and playing catch-up from a weeklong 'East Coast Extravaganza' Spring Break. The kind of trip, not to be confused with a relaxing beach vacation, wherein we jam packed three weeks of 'Forced Family Fun' sightseeing and history into an exhausting week of fun-filled memories. Sitting down to a brimming bowl of Honey Nut O's, my 8-year-old was the first to announce, "Look Mommy, it's snowing!" A tried and true prank I played on them when we lived in Colorado, his clever tactics minus his usual poker face were simply adorable. He blurted April Fools before I could look outside. Meanwhile my 15-year-old daughter sat transfixed by her iPhone typin...