Adventures In Motherhood

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...

Pain in the neck is what brought me to the brink, broadsided by a white Ford Explorer at 40-miles-per-hour in the side sliding passenger door of my Honda Odyssey minivan eight years ago en route to an MRI for neck and thoracic pain. A pain I imagine began sometime around my third child and after my mother moved to Colorado. Lying sideways, suspended by a seat belt harness, my burning ear smashed into the side curtain airbag, suffocating by fumes of smoke, I exhaled a sigh of relief my children were not with me. How did I wind up here? My life needed to slow down except for the 8-month-old child with RSV at home, my fourth, who needed his mother’s milk and care. Shards of broken glass poking out of my blood stained flesh, a pounding hematoma in my left ear, interrupted by a constant ringing from the firecracker explosion of impact, warm salty tears of exasperation and hopelessness consumed me. “No wonder you have pain in your neck,” my mother stated with gusto when the pain became d...

Sitting alone at my kitchen table holding a glass of Cabernet, I feel my shoulders release from captivity. Staring at my grandparents' mission style table, its dark wood and deep scratches from a century of abuse, straw no longer poking out of the wooden chairs I've since recovered, I remembered my dad tried to repair the wood; long gone are our table conversations. It's Valentine's Day and my husband is of course working late, because every day is Valentine's Day after four kids and nearly 24 years of marriage, right? I breathe a sigh of relief. At least the three boys are playing Wii in the basement; their noises of negotiation ensure me I am safe to let down my guard. Dinner can wait. I swirl my glass of wine watching it lap the sides of my stemmed glass. God damnit, why is she still affecting me? The bitch, the teacher who questioned my judgment, walking away and waving me off like a child today.  Staring at the deep groove in the table that sits six, a ...

Clash Royale is not just a popular Supercell video game, it's also what happens when an inch of snow falls in Portland, schools are closed, and your mom tries to go 'old school' banning the use of screen time as long as humanly possible. "But mom, we already had a snowball fight, there's not enough snow left to build a snowman and the sledding hill is mud! Plus, we already played a board game and foosball, and you made us play soccer and basketball in the street," said my 11-year-old, working every angle. Hell yes, I told them to go play in the street! Where's the sense of adventure on a day without school? Shaking my head, I marvel at six neighborhood boys who can't find a creative thing to do. "Can we please play Clash Royale together?" the other boys chime in. When I was a kid... we walked uphill in an Iowa blizzard of 50 below wind-chill in three feet of snow to school and spent summer hours lost in the woods or neighb...