Only the Dog Listens: When the Kids or the Spouse tune you out, Remember Only the Dog Listens

After two weeks of fevers, vomiting, medications, seeping/gooey eyes, more fevers and vomiting and medications and doctors visits I have decided that I am an expert on germ warfare.  I am capable of bleaching a bathroom in black pants and not end up with a single brownish blip of drained color on my pants.  I am carrying Lysol around in a holster like Jesse James carried his six shooter.  I am able to wipe off counter-tops with water so hot that it would poach an egg but my well calloused hands are hardened to the heat that can kill the germs. And yet the germs were winning — 4 cases of strep and 2 cases of pink eye later Clorox was thanking me for upping their annual profits and I felt comfortable eating straight off any surface in my house.  Thank goodness for Alexander Fleming and his lack of attention to that one moldy petri dish until it was ready to change the world.

As I was cleaning I was wondering how I could use these germs to my advantage.  I was wondering if the government would want samples of these ever vigilant germs that inhabit schools and infest homes.  I was thinking a federal lab could take the pillow cases and carpet square and culture them.  From these few items they would get enough resilient germs to replicate and use in small “germ bombs”.  It wouldn’t take much.  These damn strains of strep and pink-eye are evil.  They are tumulchuous.  Virulent.  And oh-so contagious.

I would have to make a scale for selling the strep infected carpeting squares (obviously prior to steam cleaning) to the government.  Its a sliding scale on how close the carpet is in approximation to the bathroom:    beside the bed 12″ x 12″ square is cheaper because chances are its not too bad right next to the bed.  But the measured distance from the bed to the bathroom the cost goes up.  Half way to the bathroom carpet: double the price.  Right before you get onto the bathroom on the easy to clean tile:  triple the price cause they can never seem to quite make it those last 6 inches into the bathroom.  The rule in our house is  puke IN the bathroom.  Don’t care where:  floor, sink, toilet, bathtub.  They are all smooth tile surfaces and easily cleaned/bleached.  The carpet right outside the bathroom:  not the easiest to clean.

Pillowcases would be especially golden to sell.  Especially a pink-eye pillow case.  When pink eye it present I seriously wear gloves to strip the beds and my hot water heater/washing machine is on over time killing those germs.  I should don a Michael J Fox “Back to the Future” yellow suit and play Van Halen when I am stripping the pink eye beds.  At least then it would be funny.

Now that the government has their perfect biological weapons extracted from my –snot filled, can’t keep their fingers out of their mouths, or out of their eyes children– we move onto the concept of the government using that technology of Germ Bombs for World Peace.

Forget hunting down foreign enemies and trying them for their crimes. Forget agent orange.  Forget napalm – drop a Germ Bomb of pink eye/strep into the air duct where the high up evil general & his cronies are having a big war meeting.  And wait.  Anyone, I don’t care who, that gets the double whammy of strep and pink-eye once will rethink their war plan.  Especially if they know it could happen again and again.  I know the evil General & his cronies are tough men, but that combo of strep/pink eye will wipe out the most hearty of men.  They will end the war and surrender peacefully.  They will state the end of the war was because economic difficulties or loss of life but its really because a febrile night while wanting to scratch your eyes out with a hairbrush will undo pretty much anyone. And all this thanks to kids who can’t keep their fingers out of their mouths.  The biggest problems are sometimes solved with the simplest means.

We are all finally well and the meds are finished and I never ever want to go thru two weeks of strep again.   Although Clorox may think differently once I stop hoarding bleach and their stock value drops– ooohhh maybe the cleaning companies already have germ bombs and drop them in schools to keep us buying their products? But that is a conspiracy theory blog for another time.  And chances are our kids are just germy messes that like to snot on the couch.

The strep was so rampant that my n-FLS husband had psychosomatic symptoms of strep and I actually googled “Can Dogs Contract Strep-A from Humans”.  Luckily, the adults in our house remained germ free (AMAZING what hand washing can do) and the general consensus on the Internet is that dogs are relatively immune to Strep A.   The house is clean, the doorknobs /light switches Lysol’ed, the carpet steam cleaned and the kids are healthy so the government is going to have wait for their carpet samples and pillow cases.  However, the sliding scale of carpet samples to the approximation to the bathroom will still apply because I am sure the next round of illness that reigns supreme the kids will still only make it to the 6 inches of carpet just OUTSIDE the bathroom.  Sigh.  Stay healthy and keep your fingers out of your mouth! Oh and wash your hands.  Happy Germ Fighting!

Another Mother’s Day has come and gone.  The homemade cards are on the mantle, the flowers in vases and hopefully the breakfast-in-bed dishes washed.  In reflection of this day to honor Mom: the one person who keeps the house together, what have we learned?  That Mother’s Day is a day filled with great expectations that never quite get met.  The orange juice gets spilled on the duvet, no one can find a vase for the flowers except for mom, and the kids (who are supposed to be on high alert good behavior) seem to be more whiny and needy than usual.

If we are going to celebrate mothers we should do one of two things:

1) celebrate Mom ALL the time (monthly, weekly, biweekly) for all they do.  for with out mothers nothing would run right.  no one would get to school.  if they did it would be sans underware or with out brushing their teeth. and the homework would definitely be missing.

2)  let mothers celebrate on their own.  with people who truly appreciate them and all the hard work they do.  meaning — other mothers!

Think about it.  You could grab a few friends and head to the spa.  A day of massages, waxing, keratin treatments and pedicures.  Fragrant oils and candles and soft music.  Lunch at the spa would be chardonnay and grapes and fancy cheese.  No screaming.  No spilling.  No whining.  No talking if you don’t want to talk.  Put some cucumbers on your eyes and just sit.  With seaweed on your face to detoxify you from the daily dredges of motherhood.

Now that would be a Mothers Day.

I am not saying don’t spend time with the family.  You can do that.  At dinner.  Which they have spent the entire day preparing and prepping for your glorious arrival back home.  You walk thru the door looking fabtabulous to hugs and ooooohhhhhhs and aaaaaaaaahhhhs and you are so relaxed from your Mothers Spa Day you overlook the dust bunnies in the corners and the pee on the toilet seat (that accumulated while you were gone).  You are served dinner by your loving and doting family that missed you while you were gone.  Then they clean up the dishes while you read a book.

Now that would be a Mothers Day.

Just not having a schedule or being in charge for the day.  Or having to be in charge of the schedule.  Mothers do everything and their brains are always on.  On high alert for kids running in front of cars, stray dogs, check book balances, and the amount milk left in the house.  We are constantly thinking 3 steps ahead of our kids, our husbands, their needs and what has to get done on a daily basis.  Just to have one day not to have to think ahead, or think at all.

Now that would be a good Mothers Day.

We could come out of our one-day-a-year refreshed with a new outlook on life.  We would have had our grapes, our brie, our chardonnay and our 6 hours of conversation with people who truly understand us moms.  That would be more of us moms.  We could talk about our FLS husbands or our n-FLS husbands, our over achieving kids and our underachieving kids.  No judgement, no eye rolls – only support from the people who know Mom-dom best.

Now that would be a good Mother’s Day.

No matter how you spent your day–  Whether it was toast covered with Fruit Loops breakfast in bed or a trip to the zoo (who really wants to spend Mother’s Day at the zoo)– I hope you had the best of Mother’s Days.  Because we got another 364 days of plugging away at Mommydom until we are celebrated again.  Three Hundred and Sixty Four Days of missing homework, muddy footprints, what-the-frick-is-for-dinner, snotty noses, sleepless nights and “i wants” from the little ones.

Next year lets book the spa!    Happy Mother’s day from someone who appreciates all you do!

Written with love for Miss M and Grandma L:

A wise friend of mine has a wise mother.  This friend’s wise mother is a grandmother, wife of 40+ years and she doesn’t mince words.  Grandma L tells it like it is (and then some) and for that she gets my respect.  I can see Grandma L’s spunk in my friend and its one of my friends most endearing qualities.  The other day we were out and about on a kid-less adventure not holding our tongues (it was a free for all swearing fest because we could) and my friend taught me something that I will never forget.  This is advice straight from Grandma L and its fantastic.  Its beyond fantastic – its a life lesson we should all know.  Did you know you can pretty much say anything about any one if you preface it with “Bless his/her heart”?  The most wrenching truths can be slung from the guttural depths of your soul but as long as these three words— “Bless his heart”— are in the sentence all is right in the universe and the slander flows like fresh spring water.

We all have held our tongues.  Especially when it comes to kids we meet on the playground or when we meet friends of friends of friends.  That kid that is throwing sand at the girl with the longest blonde hair at the park.  That kid that has the eternally snotty nose that no one has taught them to wipe so its a semi permanent brown stain on their upper lip.  The neighbor girl that whines incessantly to her mom and you can hear her four blocks away against a headwind.  Well, now you can say what you think – just add the words “Bless His Heart”.  Lets give it a try:

Bless his heart, he’s a sand throwing bully who will probably grow up to be a corporate lawyer and steal hard working people’s retirement.

Bless his heart, he’s a snotty mess and it makes me nauseous to see his tongue flick out and lick that snot like its candy.

Bless her heart, she’s stark raving shrieking banshee who needs to be told to shut her cake-hole.

Its like being told you are an asshole but somehow thanking the person for that advice.  That idea it taught in both Stewardess School and Nursing School (for us current/ex ER nurses).  Since nursing and flight safety is all about customer service it is a tactful line of communication that must be walked — always criticizing someone with a smile isn’t good enough.  You have to carefully choose your words to tell someone they are excessively wrong and make them think it was there idea. Its a craft and it is taught in nursing 101 and stewardess 101– so if you ever meet a nurse who used to be a stewardess, chances are they can insult you and you will not only thank them but that advice will touch your soul.

And now we have “Bless his Heart” so look out society its GAME ON!

I feel as if this premise has no social constrictions what so ever. Bless his Heart can be used to insult, soothe or otherwise state your mind without backlash.  It is a social ice breaker and well as a social necessity for most community settings.  It can be applied from toddlerdom to motherhood to professional situations all the way up to world leaders. Lets give a go, shall we?

Politics:  Bless his Heart, he wants balance the federal budget but he doesn’t have enough balls to tell the greedy corporate republicans to pass his budget and stop raising the price of oil.

Granted, most of us common voters cannot change the price of oil or pass the Federal Budget but this Bless his Heart can be used in any community without provoking a political coup or heated political discussion between peers.  Its magic!

Work:  Bless her heart, she needs to learn that these are cubicles and we can see her checking her “Match.com” profile 4x a day for new people to appear.  Doesn’t Fred have a single brother?

In this case, the Bless her Heart intended to call her a pathetic old maid may end up having more positive then negative connotations because someone is currently texting Fred about his single brother.  I am telling you, “Bless his Heart” has absolutely no social bounds!

Wordly:  I love to learn about new places and cultures, but Bless His Heart, that Frenchman at the gym needs to learn that splashing cologne on himself is not the same as a nice, hot shower.

OK, that one was an overused stereotype but it brings up two very important Bless His Heart Lessons:  #1 – Bless his Heart can be applied INTERNATIONALLY and #2 it shows the correct grammatical placement of  Bless his Heart INSIDE the sentence.  See, you can sneek in that Bless his Heart to even more subtly convey your annoyance.   If used properly, an INSIDE the sentence Bless his Heart can be even more lethal and demeaning to the intended person so please use caution.

Pets:  Bless his heart,  that big fat ugly cat of my neighbor’s STILL hasn’t learned to use the litter box.  Their whole house smells like cat pee.

This instance transcends the human social situation into animal behavior.  Dogs, cats, reptilian pets, bad behaved pets and pets who poop on your lawn: Nothing is outside the bounds of Bless his Heart!

Motherhood:  Bless her heart, she is trying her best but that toddler is running amuck in the grocery store and needs to be leashed.  Hope he doesn’t run in front of  my cart (thump thump) – OH my GOODNESS!  Bless his heart he must have not seen me in the dairy isle!

That was a double -whammy Bless his Heart.  This will take time to work up to.  Don’t try this with your first couple “Bless his Heart”s because you could get tongue tied, confused or hurt yourself.  Just please be careful with this honor and power that was bestowed onto me and that I have bestowed onto you.

The use of Bless her Heart actually cuts down on the amount of swearing or use of rude/offensive language throughout the day.  We have all let an explicative fly when its 110% inappropriate or in front of the little’uns.  As cute as it is the first time little Suzie yells “dammit” at the park, the 20th time ain’t so cute and little Suzie’s continuing use of profanity could quite possibly get you kicked out of play-dates.   So the substitution of Bless his/her Heart will work even when you want to swear but can’t.  It also works when you don’t really want to take a jab at someone, you just want to make a statement.  Just a simple ”Bless his Heart, isn’t he the dickens” can substitute for “that little sh*t just stole my soccer ball”.

And of course there is just the Proper Noun “Bless her Heart”.  When there is nothing left to say, when every other derogatory slanderous term will not suffice the truthful and understated Proper Noun Bless her Heart says it all.  When used correctly the Proper Name Bless Her Heart can mean anything from “you are a husband stealing b*tch” to “you have no business saying you are a size 4 & squeezin into them jeans”.   Its kinda like the Three-Name-Call your mom used when you were beyond trouble– simple and pure–  Bless your heart, Bertha.  If you need more emphasis just pause between the words to make your point utterly clear and use all capitals when you speak:  Bless …… Your….. Heart, Bertha.  No need for an exclamation point.  You’ve said it all.

We learn many lessons over the course of a lifetime.  We learn to share, we learn to give and we learn to love.  We learn to volunteer and we know its better to give than receive.  But its not always easy to share, give and love — and for those time we now have “Bless her Heart”.  A healthy, constructive way to vent the pressure here and there – tactfully and with a smile.  And with some Bless his Hearts a constructive conversation may follow that would completely erase the previous Bless his Heart from existence.  So, my friends – use Bless her/his Heart — use it wisely and thank me later.  Go forth in your journeys of Life and by all means:  Bless Your Heart!

We have all heard of the quintessential Soccer Mom.  Or the stereotypical MiniVan Mom.  But in my daily mommy comings and goings on I have noticed that Mom’s fall into many different categories.  Each one unique to mommydom yet some that seem to naturally overlap.  Below is a generalization of my observations.  It is meant to be fun, non judgemental and humorous so if you find yourself stereotyped or pigeonholed into a category I apologize upfront.  Not really – that part was mandated by my legal resources anti-slander campaign.  I don’t really have legal resources, that was made up too.

The Big Purse Mom:  this mom has one shoulder larger than the other but dang if they aren’t always prepared.  That purse is an homage to a WWI backpack ready for combat.  You can find everything from a hair tie to bandaids to super glue to fruit stripe gum.  Always travel with a big purse mom.  You will never be short on hand sanitizer, crystal light (along with 500mL bottle of water) or a binky for a cranky baby.  These big purse mom’s are always on the brink of disorganization but can somehow close their eyes, plunge their hand into that bag and pull out EXACTLY what they were looking for.  Every time.  Its like a daily magic trick.  These are also the mom’s you want to take to a taping of Lets Make a Deal!

The Coffee Mom: this mom is never seen w/ out coffee.  Whether it be a home brew in a reusable environmentally friendly PBA free mug or the old standard McD Golden Arches classic, this mom can juggle everything with one hand because the other is java reserved.  And they are the most energetic, organized, high octane mom’s around.  These mom’s keep the rest of us slacker mom’s on track for daily doings.  If we can accomplish half as much as this caffeinated overachiever we will feel good going to bed knowing we got SOMETHING done!  And these mom’s always know where the best coffee deals are so if you are in need of some pep send one a text and see if Dunkin Donuts is having a 99cent iced mocha promo — they will know!

The Dog Mom: these mom’s are never alone.  They travel with kid and dog everywhere.  They walk everywhere humanly possible so their 4 legged companions can come with.  They cherish their dogs as much (if not more) than their kids because #1 – the dog has learned to OBEY and #2- the dog rarely talks back.  These mom’s would rather talk about their dogs than their kids.  They spend Mom time at the Dog Park.  That is their special place untainted by the whines and needs of offspring.   They have old towels and old blankets in their car and if you sit in the passenger seat don’t wear black pants.  You will emerge with a furry behind because the only one allowed to ride “shotgun” in the car is their 4 legged soul mate.  These are the mom’s who eternally have the windows cracked in the minivan (even in the bitter throws of winter) to allow for maximum ventilation – to allow their perfect non verbal companion the joys of sniffing the world at 40mph and also to keep down the doggie smell in the car.  These mom’s aren’t as crazy as you think – its like having a personal shrink/ sounding board with you 24/7.  If anything, hang with a dog mom – they have vented enough to the pooch they are always welcome to lend an ear to you!

The PTO Mom: these mom’s are awesome.  They are work-a-holics and they work for FREE!  They are always coming up with creative ways to fund-raise and are eternally perky.  They love the school, they love the kids and they love each and every improvement they see in their kids educational well being.  While the rest of us are like “smart board what, in the classroom, huh” our kids are raving about touch screens and new library books.  They know every thing about running the PTO from the Ways and Means committee (what the frick is a Ways and Means) to the Budget to how many Box Tops need to be packaged per plastic baggie.  They could quit their FREE PTO gig and run most any Fortune 500 Corporation better than the current CEO.  These mom’s sometimes overlap with Big Purse Mom’s. But beware, these moms will quietly and secretly suck you into the PTO.  Befriend them and you may find your self in a triangle shaped paper hat schlepping burgers to a bunch of loud elementary schoolers in the 6-7p volunteer time-slot at Culvers PTO Night!

The Gym Clothes Mom: this mom is always seen in gym clothes whether they are working out or not.  Why?  Because #1 – they work out all the time and #2 – they look GOOD in their gym clothes.  Way better than most of us look in our gym clothes and how most of us WANT to look in our gym clothes.  They are the type who can lose weight by weeding their garden or “just taking the stairs vs the elevator”.   The type that are on yogurt commercials taking 15 small bites of the new low cal whipped chocolate mousse delight while the rest of us house-it in two bites and reach for another.  Oh, gym clothes mom — do you constantly wear gym clothes to remind yourself not to reach for yogurt #2 or are you just motivating the rest of us to “just take the stairs”?  Either way, kudos to you because as we all know — spandex is not a privilege, not a right.

The Take-no-Prisoners Mom:  every mom group needs a Take No Prisoners Mom, otherwise known as the General.  This is the mom that you send the kids to once you determine that the boo boo really isn’t broken, serious or needs stitches.  This is the mom who has magical First Aid skills and can stop any sniveling and whining with a few stern words such as “you are fine, rub some dirt on it and get back in the game”.  They are usually equipped with bandaids because they know they role in Mom Society.  They are caring in their own way because they can get the kid back on the monkey bars and allow the Mom conversation to continue.  They are essential to the Perfect Playdate Mom (see below).

The Perfect Playdate Mom: befriend these moms.  You will never have a boring playdate again.  And best part — they ALWAYS plan the event.  All you have to do is pack a cooler with some juice boxes and beef jerky and you are set.  Show up.  They will have bubbles, jump ropes, soccer balls and extra juice boxes.  They will have side walk chalk and will always know where the coolest, newest, most fun park is located.  Get on their email list or text list.  These mom’s can be seen 75% of the time with a Starbucks and can overlap with Coffee Moms.  Playdates will be organized weeks in advance with reminder notes sent 1-2 days before the event.  Events are weekly if not bi weekly.  These Moms rock each and every playdate and your kids come home exhausted/happy each and every time.  They are perky and smiling and always are in the realm of surreal mommydom.  Everything for the kids.  I love these moms.  I wish I was one of these moms.  My idea of a playdate is picking up dog poop before turning on the sprinkler and telling the kids to drink from the hose.

In conclusion, it takes a mom to know a mom.  And it takes all types of mom’s to keep the kids happy, entertained, fed and well educated. We all know being a Mom the toughest job you will ever love.  The Army had to have stole that phrase from Mommydom- they had to.  Because a Mom sees more combat getting the kids ready for school or on a day when milk is on sale for $1.25/gallon at the Jewel than any cadet would witness in 8 weeks of Basic Training! Happy Mommydom!

Well, I took a leap of faith and quit the only nursing job I have ever known: the ER. For the past 10 years I have been yelled at, grabbed at, spit at, bled on, exposed to more infectious diseases than I can count and vomited upon. But the ER not all anger and puke- I have comforted scared parents and scared kids. I have administered antibiotics to cure and prevent worsening infections. I have held the hand of the dying and I have welcomed life being present at births. I have saved lives-just plain and simple -saved people from death, disease and sometimes from themselves. But after 10 years it was time to save some else — me.

The never ending string of patients- both emergent, urgent, and routine, the 20 hour work days (up at 6a to be mom til 4p then be Nurse Jen from 4:30p-1a or later) and everything else in between. It was grueling and I didn’t know how grueling til I stopped. And a mere week later I have literally felt the stress melt away. I have eaten dinner with my family and kissed my kids goodnight 7 days in a row.  I have watched movies on the couch w/ my husband.  I have flown kites, taken bike rides, walked with friends, and I have laughed.  I have relaxed.  For the first time in a long time.

What kept me in the ER so long–  Comfort zone.  It was somewhat of an abusive job but it was what I knew – and I was good at it.  It was all I knew in the nursing world.  Could I move out of that comfort zone and still find fullment?  I had to try.  What else kept me there?  No day care.  The trade off shift work of parenting was working — no day care for 6 years is pretty impressive.  One works early, one works late.  And it was only 2 days a week and every other weekend so that’s not too inconvenient, right?  Well, now that I am home more I can see the inconvenience and how exhausting that schedule actually was.  Hindsight is 20/20 – especially hindsight on 8 hrs of sleep vs 3-4 hours of sleep!  Third thing that kept  me plugging away at the ER- money.  The hospital I worked for had decent wages but great shift differential.  Great shift diff – in conjunction with no day care.  That was good money for 2 exhausting days a week and every other weekend.  But money comes and money goes and money is money.  A pay cut won’t break us.  If anything, it will help us.  Help us work together as a team more – on the same schedule w/ the same budget and clear headed spending vs grocery shopping in a 3 hr sleep fog and fogetting my coupons!

I started this blog on my iPhone.  While watching my family play basketball at the park.  Had I still been in the ER I would have skipped this adventure to stay home in the peace and quiet of the house for a few hours before I had to start my loud, grueling 4:30p ER shift.  I would have missed playing 1 game of P-I-G and losing miserably (for as accurately I can throw a football or baseball I never could master that parabolical basketball arc into the hoop) and watching them play subsequent games of P-I-G.  I would have missed seeing Pete and Lucas let ALL the STRING out on the Angry Birds kite and see their laughing smiling faces as they pretended the kite was chasing airplanes.  And I was missing this for money and a comfort zone?  Nutty.

While I am on the steep part of the learning curve of my new job I will get there.  I will get the flow and the passwords and the paperwork and the patient population.  I will still be helping people and still be a nurse.  I have learned quickly that a little smile and kindness to my new patients goes a long way – for some of these people haven’t had someone be kind to them in a long time.  I will continue to help, heal and most importantly I will be able to have faith again.  Faith is hard to come by the in ER.  Very hard to come by. And most importantly, I will be done with work in time to pick up my kids from school – and be home with them the rest of the night!

The faith, love and support of my friends and family have brought me to a better place.  I couldn’t have made this leap of faith with out my friends and family to back me.  My husband who took off work for my  Transition Week into the new job.  My friends who are helping with the Kindergarten after school care, my “daughter” who will be helping this summer and my friends who were ready to stage an ER coup because they saw the downward stress spiral I was on and wanted their friend back.  Well, I am back.  And I feel better than I have in a long time.  So, thanks for the faith and love.  I appreciate it!  And I look forward to every zoo trip, birthday party, pie night, halloween, singing bad 80s music in the car and evening walk I can take with each and every person who helped me back on the path to being me. You know who you are!

The title of my blog indicates that a dog is (wo)Man’s Best Friend.  And while this is true 99% of the time sometimes (as a true family member does) they grate you in way where you would rather have a yearly GYN visit then hang w/ them.

Dogs are our confidants.  They are our companions.  They don’t talk back (their BEST attribute) and they really don’t need more than a “I luv you so berry berry berry much” in your best doggie voice to make them happy.   In this world of “why has this App not downloaded in 15 sec — really?” or “I have to wait over 7 min for my speciality mocha salted -please make it EXACTLY 105F or I won’t buy it- low fat grande latte” or “I had to wait 30 min to see a Dr in the ER when my kid had sore throat- I don’t care if someone else had Chest Pain”…… well, dogs slow us down.  They remind us to walk.  To breathe.  To look at the birds and flowers when walking and to just put one foot in front of the other.  Until they jump out the half open window of a moving vehicle – in front of a cop.

Or dig out of Grandma’s fence and play the “you are calling me?” game.  Where they turn and look at you (I swear they smile too) before running amuck thru a corn field and you have to chase them.  In your pajamas.  Before your morning coffee.

Yes, I had both scenarios happen in a mere 5 day time frame, but somehow I am not mad at them.  For everything our dogs give us that 1% of chaos should be expected.  How many of us can be good 24/7?  Do what you are told, when you are told and how you are told?  Sometimes you just may be so fed up you’d jump from a moving vehicle.  Heck, there have been more times then I can count that I’ve wanted to jump out of the car when the kids are fighting or wanting a DIFFERENT movie (I had no movies in the car when I was a kid- I was benedryl’ed for long car rides) or I have to listen to their music CD…….. So the dog needed her 1% freak out.  Or the other one needed her 1% crazy romp thru the backwoods.  As soon as I got one wrangled out of the woods and made sure the other one wasn’t dead from her flying leap (she was fine, somehow only small abrasions) all was forgotten.  Why?  Because I will get that 99% back.

That 99% of the time they will be waiting with baited breath for me to come home with tails waggin furiously.  That they will put their head in my lap when I am reading, shut their eyes and sigh with relief that we are just together on the couch.  That they will curl up behind my legs when I am sleeping on my side and keep my feet warm (and my feet get COLD at night- my husband should thank them for that one too).  That they will chase that stupid stick for the kids 100x and never, ever, ever get tired of chasing that stupid stick.  That they are patiently teaching my kids responsibility during their childhoods (the dogs need walked and they need fresh water when we get home from said walk) and that they are all forgiving too.  How can I not forgive them for a 1% indiscretion when they instantly forgive me for yelling at them when I am really annoyed with the kids?  EVERYONE OUT OF THE KITCHEN- INCLUDING THE DOGS!

They put up with us and so much more — and do with way more grace and patience than any person. So I will definitely put up with the 1% annoyance for that 99% of love and obedience.  But I will keep the car windows rolled ALL the way up and plan on fixing Grandma’s fence on our next trip down to the farm!

For most of us quasi OCD people planning is essential.  Planning calms us.  Planning is fun and keeps the peace.  Planning is all well and good – until you have kids.  Then planning becomes more of a guideline and the more kids you have the less the planning really matters.  Planning is more of a whim at that point but its always thought of.  Not necessarily executed but dreamt of and revered for what it could be – again.

The best laid plans of mice and men………

I remember planning.  Planning a vacation.  Planning my weekend.  Planning my meals.  Planning my shopping list and planning pretty much every aspect of my day to day being.  Four kids later I wake up with no plans other than:  get ‘em fed, get the teeth brushed and minions dressed, get ‘em to school and figure it out after that.

For your entertainment and amusement I am going break down some of Plans for Life’s Events into pre and post kids, please pay close attention (you can take notes if you want):

Well Balanced Meals:

Planning meals is a good idea and every now and then I attempt to do a weekly meal planner.  But being gone for dinner three nights a week to work that plan doesn’t always get executed.  I would love to serve free range chicken with a light lemon glaze, steamed asparagus and organic hand picked couscous every night but #1- I am not rich enough for a personal chef and #2- I live in the Midwest where meat is King and the fresh veggies only come in the summer #3- have you seen the price of organic hand picked couscous?  Daaaaaaang! I’d rather buy a gallon of gas!

Now I do get this right most of the time w/ the kids.  We usually plan a meat, veggie and starch w/ every meal with the meal being veggie heavy (with much whining on that one).  But don’t get me wrong.  There have been times where Mother Hubbard has been super busy and the cupboards are bare.  As a mom you never want to think that your kids just had a bologna sandwich, a bowl of cereal and a strawberry pop tart as the “fruit” in the meal but it happens.  It wasn’t a planned meal but it works for the day and the kids pretty much find my annoyance w/ myself quite entertaining.

Home Decorating:

While I am not Martha Stewart I do have ideas of what I like and don’t like in my house.  I like my greens and blues and I like my linen curtains and I like my photography framed in black frames with simple mats.  I had ideas of what my bedroom, my sanctuary, would be.  I dreamt and planned of dark colors in a big room.  A quilt with an accent color that matched the walls perfectly.  I dreamt and planned for a big tall bed with under bed storage and sold oak headboard.  I dreamt of the bed being made everyday with matching throw pillows and shams and everynight I could gently turn down the bed to 800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets to dream of meadows of wildflowers on a fresh spring day. And everything would have just a HINT of feminine because it is my husbands (my n-FLS husband) room too.

Four kids, two dogs and a 20 hr a week job later I didn’t plan on coming upstairs to find my  bed w/ no sheets cause the muddy dog burrowed herself to the end of my bed and got dirt from the pillows to the bedskirt.  I look and see the boys STAR WARS bedspread folded neatly in a pile o laundry (because the dog schmaged their bed too but making their bed with different sheets/blankets was a priority at bedtime so they could GO TO BED AND BE QUIET) and say “That will do, pig.  That will do”.  Then proceed to toss the Star Wars bedspread down over my mattress pad as a “topsheet” and finding any old blanket to cover up with.  Then sharing that bed with not only my n-FLS husband, but both dogs (newly bathed) and a kid who comes in at midnight saying he had a bad dream.  Not really the plan on the bedroom sanctuary I had in mind.

Grocery Shopping:

Putting together a grocery list with coupons used to be a high light of my OCD week.  I would match my coupons to the grocery ads and say “oooooohhhhhh, I can get that TP for 29 cents a roll with instore saving and my coupon and my deft math division skills”.  Now I am on my way home from the Dog Park because the animals needed to run before they jumped out of their skin and UN-planned I think “ooooooooooohhhhhh, I have 20 min before the kindergartner gets out of school, lets see what I can slash and grab in the grocery store”.  And I stomp thru the grocery in my post dog park attire (super sexy by the way) and muddy boots at lightening pace.  I swiftly dodge the elderly and stock my cart with the basics: bananas, apples, potatoes, milk, cheese, eggs, yogurt, bread and cereal and I dart back to the car to drive to school mere seconds before my smiley K student fills me with the wisdom he learned that morning.

PARTAKING

Every once in awhile a beer is super tasty.  Or that glass of wine that matches the flavor of the chicken is outstanding.  Or just getting people together on a Friday night to partake in some adult beverage is, well, FUN!  That used to be the plan.  Have some beers, build a fire in the firepit, chill out, and just feel more relaxed.  Oh, what a great plan that was!  And I still have that plan in its modified muted form.  Just last night my husband came home w/ take out food cause it was Friday and the meal planning calendar got thrown out the window (oh, who am I kidding, it never was planned in the first place) and I wanted some beer to go w/ my fried fish.  That would totally hit the spot on a Friday night – fried fish and BEER!  A few beers, relax a bit, enjoy the fact its FRIDAY– awesome plan.

Until I got to beer #2.  My stomach was full of fried fish and french fries, my head was swimming a tad from that first beer and I thought - this ain’t going no where good.  Not only was the ”I am too old for fried food and beer” indigestion clouding my thoughts I had the realization that those boys aren’t going to wait for mommy to sleep in tomorrow.  They are going to be UP and AT ‘EM bright and early and I need to be up too.  So I don’t walk downstairs into my kitchen and feel the CRUNCH of an entire box of spilled Cheerios on the floor (we couldn’t FIND the broom) or the dog shaved or someone in need of stitches.  Its always a good PLAN to celebrate the weekend and partake but that plan never includes the reality of kids.

MY CLOTHES

While I have never been a fashion icon pre kids I was at least put together.  Nice jeans, nice shoes (oooohhh, I LOVE MY SHOES) and a cute top.  Shopping was a monthly occurrence looking at sales and what I liked and what I didn’t.  Go to the store, try on some cute things, maybe buy.  Maybe not.  Oh, those were the days of planned shopping trips.  And I could match my unmentionables everyday and just feel good, organized and happy that I was such a put together woman that I had the opportunity and means to have matching bras and panties.

Now, post kids, the shopping is planning in one of two ways:  what can I buy online at midnight when they are asleep and Those Tanks are on Sale 2 for $10 at Target when I am there hoping to get TP for 29 cents a roll — grab me 2 white, 2 gray, 2 black in size L and gets keep this shopping trip a-rollin’!  Forget the put together look.  And totally forget the matching unmentionables.  If the sports bra ain’t matching the cotton undies but I get thru Target with minimal “I WANTs” and no broken jars of pickles then its a success! And we won’t even mention the fact that over the unmentionables is no longer the nice jeans and cute top but the work-out pants I may or may not have slept in and my husbands old College Sweatshirt!  Sexier than the dog-park look but no where near the planned look of yesteryear.

CONCLUSION

I may not have known my quasi OCD planning skills would be tested (if not all together abandoned) with 4 kids, 2 dogs, a n-FLS husband and house to manage but it ain’t so bad.  Its taught me some super on-the-fly skills every Mom should know.  Its taught me that the plan of staying at home and playing isn’t necessarily as fun as the spur of the moment trip to the Park then out of ice cream past bedtime on a summer night.  That every so often its OK to have pancakes and bacon for dinner – because those non-planned events seem to be the ones that stick out the most of the kids.  The ones they remember and smile about in the months to come– when they tell you that the unplanned afterdinner trip to the pool was the BEST SUMMER NIGHT EVER!  And for that I will sleep ontop of a Star Wars bedspread and attempt to match my sports bra but if I don’t get it planned — eh, that’s OK too.

If I had a dollar for every time I have heard “I don’t know how you do it.  Four boys, 20 hrs a week in the ER.  Managing a household.  I just don’t know how you do it” I probably wouldn’t have to work those 20 hrs a week in the ER.  I would live $1 by $1 on my Amazement Money given by people who think I am SuperWoman.  Well, let me tell you — some days I don’t even know how I do it.  And with emerging personalities and the RAD thrown for fun I have been wondering DAILY how I do it.

I have to give credit to my NON-Fat, Lazy, Stupid Husband who picks up the slack and knows when to step in when I am D-O-N-E.  I do 95% of the day to day and most of the discipline and he’s always there to back me up.  He gives me the space to rant at the boys but when my rants go unheard or my voice is cracked and bleeding he steps in and takes over where I left off.  So, kudos to my NON-Fat, Lazy, Stupid Husband!  Ladies, if you don’t have a NON-Fat, Lazy, Stupid Husband I suggest you get one or possible take yours to Husband School — they can be quite handy at times!

Sometimes I feel like I rule my house with a Double Iron Fist.  But I think that I HAVE TO.  There are FOUR of them and ONE of me.  If they knew that numerically the odds were stacked against me I would be Shucks Outta Luck. Chaos would reign supreme more than it does now.  And believe me the chaos moments here can be overwhelming.  I don’t put up with much of anything in the way of acting out – and sometimes I get strange looks from people like “you put the kibosh on THAT, really?  That’s nothing”.  But with 4 boys who are only separated by a mere 1 year and 11 months THAT can snowball into an ER visit or a hole in my wall in a matter of seconds.  So, maybe my kids don’t have the chaotic freedom that an only child has – but they do have each other and that is something special. Something so special their mom is an Eagle Eye Iron Fist maniacal discipline machine ready to pounce like a hungry cougar at any misdoings.

I do allow the fair share of running, screaming and craziness.  I have to.  They are boys.  If I didn’t allow that I would be taking something naturally inherent in their beings.  But its monitored running, screaming and craziness.  It’s a good thing those boys haven’t mastered the concept of windows.  I can conveniently stand in my kitchen and watch 95% of back yard goings-on.  And when I see a stick to the back of the head or a push off the swing set I simply walk to the back door, open it and stand there.  I don’t say anything.  I don’t yell or even call a name.  I point to the guilty party and with one finger beckon them to the door.  Then I point to the step and say “sit until I come back” and I go back inside.  The confusion as to HOW DID SHE KNOW what I did in combo with the lack of emotion on my part really gets them shaking in their shoes.

Maybe that’s how I do it.  Conservation of energy in discipline.  Natural consequences.  You do A– expect B from me.  That way it’s not taxing or surprising or difficult.  And watching them squirm on that step while I finish the dishes or take a cake out of the oven or even sip a cup of coffee can be a small energy boost that keeps me going for a few more hours.

Maybe I do it on pure adrenaline and caffeine.  Definitely the caffeine part.  I have coffee 24/7 in my house.  Come over sometime– I will pour you a cup.  And you can see just how I do it.  I think I do it on constant motion.  Never stop moving.  If you stop you are done.  I go from mopping to laundry to walking the dogs to more laundry to the dishwasher to Just Dance 3 for a while back to the kitchen for dinner to homework and reading and baths then cleaning and more laundry and then bedtime.  There isn’t much sitting down.  I am actually frightened of sitting down for fear I won’t get back up.  If I keep moving then it can all actually get done and the caffeine just fuels the fire.

But honestly, I do it out of pure love for my kids.  It was hell going thru fertility and the adoption process.  It was long and tedious and miserable.  And when it was finally over and another person trusted us to raise their biological kid I found that honor unfathomable.  So, I do what I can – I put up with the 20 hrs a week in the ER so I can have $$ let them have birthday parties and buy the Star Wars T-shirt they like and have pizza night ever Friday.  I pick up poop when I am exhausted so they can have a clean backyard and the memories of their childhood dog that they played with in that clean backyard.  I do load after load of wash so their clothes are clean and I mop so they are proud of the house they live in.  I rule with an Iron Fist so they learn some sort of self-control and discipline so they grow up to be good people.  People who will see their mom pay it forward while baking theme cupcakes for the school Hula Bash while on 4 hrs sleep – people who will then want to pay it forward in any way they can.  I can see parts of that discipline and unconditional love show thru in snippets right now.  One of the boy’s best girlfriends in school is in a wheelchair and he says “that’s just the way she is, mom – and she’s sooooo funny – i am glad she’s my friend”.

I do it because I want them to stop and think before they kick that soccer ball into their brother’s head that mom has some “magical powers” that she knows when I am outside and do something wrong.  I want them to be independently thinking beings that can inherently decipher right from wrong on a moment’s notice.  And for that I need my vigilant Eagle Eye Observation Powers (and clean windows).

It’s that kind of comment that keeps me going as to Just How Do I Do It.  Well, and the caffeine fueled constant motion sleep deprived stagger that I do until I collapse into bed at 9pm every night.  And, just in case you are wondering, I will take those $1 How Do You Do it donations — I have 4 college careers to think about!

For all the mom’s who tediously tore apart valentines, bought pencils w/ heart shaped erasers or those who did much, much more (ugh).  And for Yolanda- the inspiration and co conspirator to this post!

BE MINE

Well, Valentine’s day as come and gone and once again a Hallmark Holiday has belittled and demeaned most of us mom’s.  Not from a “will I get roses from my fat, lazy, stupid husband” cause we all know they came thru for us — but the belittlement comes when our children drag home the bags, shoeboxes, backpacks full of valentines from their classmates.  And us mom’s start confiscating the candy (for personal use or to not make the same overendulgent mistakes we made w/ Halloween candy) and looking thru the Valentine’s Cards our kids received from their friends.

I have had a personal distain for school Valentine’s parties for the last 3 years since one of my oldest came home from Kindergarten sobbing that he didn’t have any valentines to give out.  I prompted dumped out his backpack and showed him the baggie of folded, stickered and labeled valentine’s he had w/ him the whole time.  Not one teacher or aide thought to check, my kid was too confused to remember he had Valentine’s and hence the sobbing.  Granted, that is long forgotten for him but not for me.  And subsequent school Valentine’s have not been much better.

I sent in not one, but TWO bags of Valentine’s w/ my kids this year because I was worried about them not having enough.  New students, teachers, aides.  I didn’t want anyone left out.  I also sent the Valentine’s in 4 days in advance for my kids to have in their lockers so when the Big Day showed up we wouldn’t have dropped the ball.  But the kids kept bringing the Valentine’s back home every other day saying “its not Valentine’s day yet”.  Yes, I know that.  LEAVE THEM IN YOUR LOCKER UNTIL THAT DAY ARRIVES. But somehow this concept was lost on the children because when the Big Day arrived all 4 of them “didn’t have enough for our class” which is mathmatically impossible from the number of Valentines I tore, stickered and placed in labeled ziplock bags.  Which makes me feel like a horrible mom that my kids had to pick and choose favorites in class or not give any out at all (don’t want hurt feelings).  Its all so complicated and so unnecessary.

Now I am a minimalist when it comes to school Valentines.  Get the premade cards with stupid sayings on them “GO WILD, Be My Valentine” with a tiger or it.  Or “I am bananas for you, Valentine” with a monkey on it.  Tear the sheets, fold them in half and sign the FROM side.  Just the FROM side.  I don’t care if they send home a class list and want each kid to label a valentine for his/her classmate.  For my kid to read those names in class and get the right valentine in the right homemade, stickered, red wrapping paper covered box would be impossible.  I might as well ask them to do my taxes or scale Everest.  They would  need their own personal Sherpa to read each card and deliver it correctly.  So if there is no name written in the TO place its just pull, drop in box and smile!  Minimalist school Valentine mom.

I guess I should get to the point of this rant.  What truly set me off.  While digging thru the kids stickered, paper covered, homemade shoebox valentine containers searching for Candy Hearts or anything chocolate/peanut butter I saw a homemade valentine.  Not a premade, tear, sticker and sign FROM but a photo card that made me feel like a Minimalist Loser school Valentine mom.

This card had the pretty princess posed in front of a pink satin’ish backdrop.  She was decked out with a party dress and red headband and she had her hand outstretched towards the camera in a 3D kinda way.  The picture was photoshopped with sepia tones and the headband, her perfect valentine lips and the sash of her party dress were enhanced with red tones.  And in the outstretched hand they cut a little hole and taped a pink Tootsie Pop into each and every card.  So it looked like the pretty princess was handing each of her classmates the candy personally for this Special Valentines.

Remember, I am the backpacking, ER nurse, take no prisoners mom of 4 boys.  So I took a poll of my friends (esp mom’s of girls) to see if this was over-the-top for a school Valentine.  Cause my immediate reaction was WOW, this is over the top for a school Valentine.  I got a resounding YES that it was a bit much for a school Valentine.  That was good to know that I am not a cynical heartless witch who was half disgusted by the over the topness, half jealous of the creativity and half impressed by the time/effort and involvement it took on the parents part.  Yes, math is hard and yes I have committed the over the top card to memory for possible future use!

In summary my opinions of school Valentine’s really haven’t changed.  I think it should be fold the Star Wars card (you are out of this world, valentine!) , sign your name and drop it in the stickered red paper covered shoebox. No one is counting.  No one cares.  The kids look for the candy and the fact a they got out of an afternoon of conjugating verbs to have a party.   Valentine’s day is just another Hallmark way of making us mom’s scramble for heart shaped goodies that end up forgotten in the bottom of backpacks everywhere.  Another friendly mom competition that I choose not to participate in – fold ‘em, sign ‘em, stuff ‘em.  And pass me that bag of Candy Hearts– oh, how I love my once a year bag of confectioners sugar goodness with little fun phrases stamped on them. BE MINE, CALL ME, LOVE! But that is a story I will save for next year- probably with a rant about the new ridiculous things stamped on them like LOL or BFF or LMAO!

I hope you and your kids had a good Valentine’s day.  I do.  And for those of you w/ kids in 2nd grade you know what card I am talking about!