Nine Years In and All Is Well

6 Oct

I never thought these words would come out of my mouth…. Here I go….my children are growing up way too fast.

 It’s really starting to hit me, actually slap me in the face that my babies aren’t babies anymore. They aren’t even toddlers or preschoolers. They are school aged kids! The twins are 5 and a half and in Kindergarten and HB is 9 and in 4th grade. For me this is the sweet spot of motherhood. Some people adore babies. They say that they are so easy and sweet. I find babies to be complex and terrifying. The lack of communication scares the daylight savings out of me. When I have a newborn my inner dialog goes something like this twenty four seven “Are they cold, are they hot, are they hungry, are they sick, what time is it, where am I, is this phase over yet?!” The toddler years get better for me because at least they can scream and throw things at me to tell me what they want and need. Preschool years keep looking up as they go to school for a couple of hours a day and sleep is actually a consistent reality. 

Now, Kindergarten. I have to say that it is wonderful. All 3 kids can dress themselves, buckle into their own booster seats, and go to the bathroom on their own. They can sit through a movie in the theater, they can be left alone in the other room while I take a shower or make dinner most of the time. 

No diapers, no high hairs, no changes of clothes, no sippy cups, no blankies, no baby bjorns, no strollers. All of the gear has been traded off for bike helmets, soccer cleats, Barbie dolls, chapter books, and costumes. 

I’m loving this phase. Watching them play sports and perform in shows. Seeing them excel in school, make friends, and bond as siblings. This is the golden age of being a mom if you ask me. No two year old tantrums and no teenage angst. The problem is that just as the baby years are behind me, soon these years will be over too. I wish I could bottle them up just as they are and keep it this way forever. I suppose all I can do is try to drink in every moment I have with them. Hold their hands and cuddle them tight while they still let me. Savor the time that I have with them during these years. Because before I know it I will be writing a blog post about the trials and tribulations of having three teenagers and how I remember the good old days. Or maybe I will be whining and crying about how I lost my mind and had a fourth baby just when things were looking golden. One never really knows.

xoxo
  

Do Sharks Have Balls? 

30 Aug

It was a long Summer. Long. 

Although- I am happy to report that it was not as hard as last summer or the summer before or the one before that. I never thought I would say this, but, life is getting significantly easier. Trust me, I had my, “What the fu*k is wrong with you guys?” moments. But the frequency was so much less than it was before. 

I am proud to say that not only did the three children survive, but I did too! I can also report no broken bones, no stitches, no poison ivy and not one child was lost at an amusement park or museum, not even briefly. 

There was a solo trip for the kids and Daddy to Yosemite for 6 days – no sunburns, no emergency room trips and nobody attacked by wild animals. There was some vomiting, haunted hotels and bug bites, but what’s a proper road trip without those things?

There were the days that all three kids went to camp. Those were glorious days. Camp days are just the best. Handing your child over to an overly energetic college counselor who can’t wait to run around in the sun and entertain your kid, is the best feeling in the world.  Besides when the kids are all sleeping, that’s an awesome feeling too.

On days when my guilt kicked in and I figured I should remind the kiddos that the camp counselors aren’t actually their adoptive parents, we hit the beach. We had a beach groove and our own special spot on the sand near the Annenberg Beach House in Santa Monica. Our sunscreen routine was down to a science. Line up in the hallway in bathing suits youngest to oldest (one twin is 3 minutes older) and slowly rotate as I spray each of them. Then hand the sunscreen stick for their faces back and forth to each other in the car until everyone is covered. We conquered fears of seaweed, a phobia of peeing in the ocean, and even fear of sharks. My son (5) will proudly tell you that if a shark tries to eat his sisters he will kick him in the nuts. Solid plan little man. Of course this is coming from the kid who had to overcome his fear of seaweed first.

Summer of 2015. We owned you. No strollers. No diapers. No nap times. 

Fourth grade and Kindergarten (times 2) bring it on. We are ready for you. 

*Of course I would like to reserve the right to adjust my positive outlook once the kids all start acting like   little monsters again.

xoxo 
 

Perfect Is For Pussies

9 Jun

Here’s what I learned today – I am not perfect. 

I know, I know, you are shocked. I am too. I try very hard to get things right. I hate messing up. I hate disappointing people. I beyond despise looking like an idiot.

 I realized today that I am not and never ever will be perfect. I have quirks, bad habits, and annoying tendencies. In fact, there are going to be some people that simply don’t like me because of these things and that’s ok. It took me a long time to really get this concept, but I get it now. I have some amazing qualities about me that people will love and other features that will drive people nuts. It’s not my responsibility to make everyone like or love me. 

There are those who see me as I am, totally imperfectly perfect and embrace me completely. 

So, the next time someone drives you up a wall, remember, you can move along and let them be or accept them as the imperfect human being that they are. 

Because no matter how hard we all try, perfect ain’t happening. 

Unless you are Taylor Swift. She seems like she’s pretty damn perfect. 

xoxo
  

Fat. It’s Not A Sin Anymore.

28 May

The World’s First Size 22 Supermodel! That’s the headline on the cover of People magazine this week. The picture accompanying it is of Tess Holliday, a 29 year old model who also happens to be 5’5 and weigh 280 pounds. The typical model is about 5’10 and 120 pounds. Her face is what would be considered beautiful by conventional standards, a model’s face for sure. Her body wouldn’t usually even qualify her for plus size modeling. Most of the time plus size models aren’t even actually plus sized. They are approximately a size 10, which would be significantly less than Holliday’s size 22. To put this in perspective, the average American woman is a size 16-18. Although in Beverly Hills I am pretty sure it’s more like a size 2-4.

I grew up obsessed with fashion TV and magazines. Along with that obsession grew a fascination with models. From a very young age I could tell you the physical stats and personal basics about most models walking the runway in the 1990’s. Even in college my walls were plastered with pages from the magazines of high fashion looks I loved and the uber super models wearing them. I began to think that looking like them was an attainable goal.  Looking back on it now I realize that I had no clue that these women were born this way. Genetically predisposed to be six inches taller than the average woman, born with long thin necks, and given a symmetrical face that is pleasing to a camera. I wish someone would have clued me in to all this and it could have saved me quite a bit of grief in the body shaming and body acceptance department.

Maybe if there had been a beautiful woman on the cover of People magazine that was more than twice my size being called a supermodel, it would have made a difference. These days there are entire movements dedicated to body acceptance. Teaching girls and women to accept and even celebrate their bodies no matter what size or shape they are. There are plus size models on billboards and in major ad campaigns. Not only all this but now on any Disney show you will see the chubby girl, the kid with glasses and frizzy hair, the friend in a wheelchair, the neighbor with dyslexia, the divorced parents and even the super smart yet still attractive girl. 
I stopped buying fashion and tabloid magazines long ago. I had decided to stop feeding my obsession and stop supporting an industry that can be destructive in countless ways. Yesterday I bought 5 copies of this month’s People magazine with Tess Holliday on the cover. I want this month’s edition to sell out, I want the publishers, advertisers and my children to hear me. I wish I had seen a cover like this when I was 8 years old. 

At least I get to see it now.

xoxo

  

What I Really Want to Say to Newlyweds Dying to Have Kids

20 May

1. Don’t have kids.

2. Okay, fine, have kids. But wait until you absolutely have to have them. Like, to the point where either your eggs are so old they are about to rot OR when you start dreaming about kidnapping other women’s babies. Then, do what you have to.

3. When you finally do make the totally irrational decision to have kids, remember, trying to prepare is a complete waste of time. No book, class or YouTube video can prepare you for what you are about to experience. Just go to sleep. Sleep as much as you can. Because you will never sleep again.

4. When you find yourself knocked up: The baby registry. I had a baby registry. When I go back and read it now, it’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever composed besides my birth plan. How I so carefully chose each onesie, each bottle, and every last item they could market to a first time mom. I spent months gathering the perfect stash. Here’s what you really need: A box of newborn size diapers, cheap onesies, a bassinet, formula or your boobs, and a shit load of cheap burp cloths. Everything else is decorative. 

5. When people ask how many kids you want, you sound stupid when you gaze into each other’s eyes and say, “four or five at least.” I know young new love is intoxicating, but sober up. Start with one baby and go from there. Besides, have you even considered where your four or five kids will go to public school? Or how you you will pay for the house in the good public school district for the kids to attend said school? Or will you be paying the $30,000 yearly tuition per child starting at the age of two? Exactly. 

6. Planning on going back to work and having Mary Poppins care for your angel? Let me save you a tremendous amount of heartache here. The perfect nanny doesn’t exist. A loving educated person to raise your child exactly as you would who also cleans your house and does your laundry all while keeping the bambinos safe and the dog fed…. This woman is a myth. If you go looking for her and on top of it offer to pay her $12 an hour, then everyday will become take your baby to work day for you. Pick your battles. No nanny is going to be you. No nanny is Wonder Woman. Find someone who genuinely enjoys children, believes in honest work and values safety. Everything else is negotiable.

7. If you have a problem with the smell of poop then this kid thing is not going to work out well for you.

8. If you absolutely must have kids, I will admit, but only this once, that in the end, it’s worth it. It’s hard and scary and exhausting and painful. Being a mother is also at the core of my being the most ultimately divine and important thing I have ever done and will ever do in my life.  But let’s just keep that between you and I.
xoxo

  

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