My Mid-life Awakening

I turned 40 and something woke inside of me.  Some turn 40 and have a mid-life crisis.  I believe I am experiencing quite the opposite - a mid-life awakening.  This may mean different things for different people, but this is what it means for me.

It means understanding the value of time and only wanting to spend it with people who make me happy.  It doesn't matter if you're someone I once considered a friend, a toxic family member or a disgruntled co-worker - if you're constantly negative, I will distance myself entirely.  I am only making time for those who make me laugh, lift me up and make me want to do the same for them.  

It means no longer needing to explain myself to people who don't understand me.  I have plenty of faults.  Believe me, I'm my own worst critic.  But I'm learning to accept those faults because I have so many people who love me despite them.  If you're not one of those people, that's okay.  Not everyone is going to like me.  But please move along quietly.  Because if you're waiting for me to explain why I am the way I am, then you'll be waiting for eternity.  And if it angers you to the point you need to toss negativity my way then I will gladly step aside and clear a path for you so you can keep on truckin'.  

It means no longer obsessing over the size of my jeans or the number on the scale.  I exercise to stay healthy physically and mentally rather than to try to sweat myself skinny.  I eat healthy 90% of the time but won't say no when my kids ask to stop for ice cream.  And if tacos are calling my name, you better believe I'm answering.

It means no longer having the energy to work hard for a boss who doesn't appreciate my efforts.  I have so much determination and drive but am no longer willing to hand it over without gaining anything in return.  I want to focus that energy on something that matters.  I want my efforts to count for more than just a paycheck.

It means living in the moment and not worrying as much about the future. I'm a planner, always have been.  Going with the flow is not my jam.  But I've come a long way from where I began.  Whether it's from getting older or the global pandemic curve ball that was thrown our way, I've learned to calm my need to control the future.  And I have to say, life is a lot sweeter when you're soaking up the moments instead of worrying when the next one will come.

So instead of enduring a mid-life crisis in the form of a shiny red sports car or expensive Botox, I'm putting negativity behind me and living with less cares.  I've come to realize I'm not that great at planning anyway.  Because if I would have planned better, I would've planned this mid-life awakening to happen a whole lot sooner. My life would've been filled with more laughter, less heartache and so many more guilt-free tacos.  Just the way life is meant to be lived.

To the Mom I Swore I'd Never Be

To the Mom I swore I'd never be,

I just want to say I'm sorry.

I saw you before I had kids of my own.  I judged you.  And I swore I would never be you.  Now that I am a mother myself, I AM you.  Now I finally get it.  Oh, how I wish I had shown you grace.

You were the mom that didn't discipline your kid in the store.

How could you just ignore your child throwing a temper tantrum because you wouldn't let him have a lollipop?

"If that were my child, I would leave my cart and take him straight to the car!"

Now I realize you were choosing your battles.  You were out of diapers and milk and had skip nap time to run to the grocery store.  It wasn't his fault he was overly tired.  You were being a good mom by not giving in to him.  I can see that now but I couldn't see it then.  Leaving that cart was easier said than done.  You NEEDED those Pampers and milk.  Instead of seeing your patience, my ignorance chose to see a spoiled child throwing a fit due to lack of discipline.  I wish I had offered to buy those diapers and milk for you, or tried to console your toddler.

You were the mom who was always frazzled and unorganized.

"If she would just get it together, she wouldn't always be so stressed out."

Now I realize you were doing the best you could. You were trying to juggle three active kids while working full-time with a husband who traveled for his job.  It's not your fault your boss sprung a project on you last minute.  That extra fifteen minutes put you in traffic, causing you to be thirty minutes late picking up your first kid, making him late to practice, causing a ripple effect to your other two kids.  No wonder you seemed frazzled.  You thought you had it together but one small adjustment in your schedule threw off your entire night.  Why didn't I offer to take your kid to soccer?  Or drop off dinner when I knew your husband was out of town?

You were the mom who never looked put together.

"Just because you have kids doesn't mean you should let yourself go.  How hard is it to put on a little makeup?"

Now I realize there are soooo many more important things in life than lip gloss.  It's not about letting yourself go, it's about putting little tiny humans' needs in front of your own and always putting yourself last.  It's about becoming a selfless human when you enter motherhood and leaving your old self-absorbed life behind.  Brushing your hair isn't even on your radar when you have two minutes to leave the house and you smell a poopy diaper. How vain was I to even think this way?

I feel ashamed for not having more compassion.  I'm embarrassed that it took having children of my own to show empathy.  I regret not lending a helping hand when needed.  I feel blind that even though I saw you, I didn't SEE you.

But I see you now, momma.

I'm looking in the mirror.

And I'm not even wearing lip gloss.

Count Your Covid Gains

I’ve lost so much due to Covid-19.

I've lost track of days, they all start to run together.

I've lost track of the last time I've washed my hair.

I've lost track of how many days in a row my kids have eaten PB&J for lunch.

I've lost my patience trying to homeschool four kids in four different schools while trying to work full-time from home.

I've lost my willpower to eat healthy and motivation to workout.

I've lost a steady paycheck due to furlough.

I've lost my temper from the stress of it all.

But some have lost so much more.

Businesses, homes, and financial security have been lost.

Physical and mental health have been lost.

Lives have been lost.

However, I know as much as I've lost, there could be so much more to lose.

So I choose to focus on the gains.

I've gained more time with my husband and kids.

I've gained the option to live in pajamas.  All day.  Every day.

I've gained time to cook family meals and time to sit down as a family to eat them.

I've gained new adventures with my kids going on nature walks and having picnics.

I've gained family game nights around the kitchen table and movie nights in blanket forts.

I've gained perspective on what's important in life.

I've gained more respect and admiration for teachers and healthcare workers.

I’ve gained a closer bond with my husband and children.

I've gained a closer relationship with Jesus.

This virus can only take away so much.

It is up to you to decide what to do with the rest.

Make it worth it.

   

Quarantine Perks

Quarantine has it’s ups and downs for sure.

Today was an up day.

Today we focused on the perks.

We didn’t get out of bed until 11:00. We were awake for a couple of hours but the 4 kids and 2 dogs just rotated through to snuggle, hang out, and chat. Well, the kids chatted - the dogs not so much. I can’t remember the last time (if ever) this has happened.  Usually by that time, I’ve taken a class or 2 at the gym, showered and watched at least one of the kids play some type of sport. It was nice to just relax and enjoy the snuggles.

Then Kevin and I sat on the porch and drank a whole cup of coffee. We couldn’t remember the last time we just sat together on the porch with nowhere to be. We think it was 2009. That’s 11 years. ELEVEN. YEARS. I fell in love with this house because of that porch and yet we haven’t had a cup of coffee on it in over a decade. That’s very sad to me. And what’s more sad is it took 11 years and a quarantine to realize it.

Later I took #2 to get ice cream. Just the two of us. He just needed to get out of the house. He’s only been in a vehicle twice in 5 weeks. The kid was going stir crazy. So off we went. There’s something special about one-on-one time and made me realize I need to do this with each of the kids more often.

Then we played a card game and Mickey Mouse Trouble with #3 & #4. There were some tears and a little pouting (they get very competitive) but the giggles outweighed the tears and made it worth it.  It’s not often we’re even home long enough to play a game, let alone two. We need more family game nights, tears and all.

Finally, I surprised the little boys with a glow in the dark bubble bath. I remember doing this for the older kids when they were little but had forgotten all about it until quarantine. It made me realize how much the little guys have missed because we’re on the go so much. I need to remember to do the little things with them before they get too big.

So yes, it sucks not hanging out with friends, not being able to go out to dinner, not being able to run to the store for random things. Yes, I miss my house and yard being filled with kids and friends always dropping in. And Lord knows I miss them going to school. But I am also grateful for the family time. Grateful to slow down. Grateful to relax, sleep in, not be rushed to get from one place to the next. Grateful to be forced to stop and realize just how much there is to be grateful for.

As much as I can’t wait for all of this is over and life to get back to “normal,” I’ll be a sad to see some of these things go. My hope is to keep as many quarantine perks as I can and integrate them into real life to create a NEW normal. One that has fun and friends and activities but still has time for family game nights and front porch coffee and one-on-one time with the kids.

One that doesn’t take a global pandemic to make you stop and realize how much you have to be grateful for.

What does your new normal look like?

No Shortage of Chocolate Milk Here

I woke up this morning to the two little voices of #3 & #4 chatting and giggling in the hallway while I was snuggled up in bed with big dog, Theo, or as 3 now calls him, Mr. Big. Thanks to Coronavirus we have no where to rush off to today, no morning classes at the gym, no soccer games, nothing. I start to think how sweet it is to finally be able to relax, not feel the pressure of having to be at a million places at once and how I get to spend the whole day relaxing with those sweet voices outside my door.

Then I focus in on what those voices are saying.

“Moommmyyyy, there’s poop outside your door!”

*giggles*

“Mommmmmyyy, there’s a pooper in the house!”

*giggles*

“Mommmmmyyyyy, it’s really stinky out here!”

*giggles*

What. The. Actual. F. is happening outside my door? Please let those giggles be a sign of joking, not of two little boys that think poop on carpet is funny.

I get up, open my door, and am hit in the face with the most god awful smell of dog diarrhea.

They think poop on the carpet is funny.

They let the dog out and watched her poop outside my door and are now laughing about this.

I start to gag. I want to cry. And guess what y’all!  The husband is once again out of town!

Why does this shit (pun intended) always happen when he’s not here?

I tiptoe over land mines and head downstairs to find cleaning supplies.

But wait, there’s more. Pee on the living room carpet, more diarrhea in the dining room carpet. It’s overwhelming. The smell is suffocating. I want to die.

I grab plastic grocery bags, a garbage can, towels and my Norwex paste and try to figure out how I’m going to pick up piles of dog diarrhea with the consistency of potato soup. I strap a Kroger bag to my hand and just go for it. I grab a pile. The warm squishiness oozes straight through the Kroger bag onto my hand and releases a hot fresh stench of rotted boxer bowels straight up my nostrils. I fling the bag into the garbage can and my vomit follows. I’m crying, I have puke dripping from my chin and brown dog sludge on my hand. There can not be anything closer to hell on earth than what I am experiencing in this moment. I get up, scrub my hands in scorching hot water and 3 gallons of soap for a full 10 minutes and realize I have 7 more piles to get through.

Crying harder now.

I pull it together - sort of - and head back to the land mines.

My hand is still sore from trying to wrangle a horse on a leash yesterday when I attempted to take both dogs on a walk but I need to use it to scrub 48 ounces of liquid dog poo from my carpets. I get down on all fours and start scrubbing when I realize those 2 sweet voices are still chanting “there’s a pooper in the house, there’s a pooper in the house!”

I want to yell. I want to cry.  Wait, I still am crying.  I want to run away from home but can’t because we’re in isolation. Nothing is going my way.

Instead, I just keep scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing. And I start to wonder how much dog poop can a Norwex cloth actually backloc?  The cloth itself doesn’t look that dirty; however, I soon find the answer. A SHIT TON. (Another pun intended). I realize just how much when I go to the sink to rinse it out. I squeeze the cloth and it looks like a mud slide of straight up chocolate milk pouring out. Well hello again bile in the back of my throat. I use another 3 gallons of soap and scorching hot water on my sore, dry, cracked hands until my skin is almost worn completely off. Still crying.

I give up on the carpet.  It’s as good as it’s going to get for now. But I need to do something about the smell. My entire house smells like rotted dog bowels.

I’m walking room to room, searching for Lysol with 3 & 4 trailing me begging for breakfast. How in the hell can anyone have an appetite with this level of stench in the house?  I ask them what they want and 3 says, “Cereal and chocolate milk.”

NOPE.

NO CHOCOLATE MILK.

NOT HAPPENING.

They get their cereal and WHITE milk and giggle over breakfast about dog diarrhea. I lay on the couch completely depleted wondering how anyone can possibly be having a better time quarantining than me.

It’s been a long day.

It’s 10:00 am.

I need a drink.

Anything but a mudslide please.


 

Who Wants to be a Society Approved Parent Anyway?

I birthed four 10 pound babies out of my hooha.

I breastfed each one for 6 months.

I didn’t co-sleep.

I put them on a nap schedule and kept a strict bedtime.

I read "Parenting for Dummies" front, back and sideways to be sure I was doing everything the right way.

Did I receive a trophy for any of these decisions?  Nope.

Did any of these things make me a better mom than one who chose to parent differently?  Hardly.

Are my children certified geniuses?  Far from it.

But surely there’s got to be a clear distinction between my brilliant offspring and those who took a different parenting approach.  There has to be, because society says so.  They tell you to do all the things and you'll be a better mom with smarter, more well adjusted kids.

So I did all the things.  I was obsessed with ALL.THE.THINGS.  I was determined to be the best mom with the best kids.

Fast forward 14 years into my parenting and I laugh.  (If you follow my blog, you're laughing too.) Because all the things I did didn't make my kids any better than anyone else's.

As a matter of fact, I’ve caught each one of them licking a window a time or two. One of them ate dog poop in the back yard at 9 months. Another still wakes up at least once in the middle of the night every night and he’s ELEVEN. So glad I kept those strict bedtimes. They really paid off.

I look around at co-workers, friends, and neighbors' kids and and low and behold I can’t differentiate between the vag born kids from those who were sawed out of their momma's bellies.

Crazy, right?

But there has to be some kind of distinction.  SOCIETY SAID SO.

So when I picked up my son from preschool the other day, I decided to see if I could differentiate them myself.  I was going to single out the poor neglected kids who didn't have the privilege of being breast fed. I over-looked the intellectual types because studies show breastfed babies have higher intelligence scores.  I zeroed in on the obvious kid.  The one singing at the top of his lungs with his hand down his pants scratching his butt.  The noise coming from his mouth was as if Gilbert Gottfried and a dinosaur made a love child and Dino Gottfried was singing The Wheels on the Bus as loud as possible.

I thought, "Aha! Found one!"

Nope. It was my kid.

And I have the saggy shriveled up tatas to prove he was in fact breast fed.

But how could a kid who drank liquid gold for SIX straight months act like that?!?

BECAUSE IT DOESN'T MATTER

It does not matter if you breast-fed or bottle fed.  It doesn't matter if you shot the baby out your giner or if Jason Voorhees used his very own machete to cut him out.  What matters is you're doing the best you can with the little humans God blessed you with in hopes they keep their hands out of their pants in public.

We all try our hardest to be the best mothers, to raise the best kids, to do things the "right way" but at the end of the day, there is no right or wrong way.  There is no manual to parenting.

So if you are a c-section momma, fed your baby {gasp} formula or let them sleep in your bed every night, and society makes you feel less than for it, just look around for Dino Gottfried for reassurance and remind yourself his momma is an expert in Parenting for Dummies.  You will surely find comfort in that.

Dino Gottfried, OG

How did this happen?

Since I've turned 40, I find myself asking the same question almost daily:  How did this happen? 

For example:

When you're 4, you're able to run up and down a basketball court dozens of times at full speed and not even lose your breath.  At 40 you can't even walk from your mini-van to the court without looking like a walking advertisement for COPD.  How did this happen?

When you're 6, you don't even think about shaving.  When you're 40, you get a random surprise visitor in the form of a foot-long hair growing out the side of your face when you least expect it making you wonder how long that's been there and how many people have noticed and not said anything.  How did this happen?

When you're 8, you do cartwheels for fun.  At 40, you try a cartwheel and it feels like your skin is ripping off your body while your muscles are simultaneously having seizures, causing a searing pain in every fiber of your being and leaving you with an intense all over body ache for days.  How did this happen?

When you're 10, you eat 6 large slices of pizza, a pint of ice cream and wash it down with a 2-liter of Coke and not gain an ounce.  When you're 40, you live off of lettuce and a dream and still gain 30 lbs while suffering from heartburn.  How did this happen?

When you're 12, you get tackled on the football field and still pop up without injury.  When you're 40, you get tackled by your 3 year old, fall over because you have zero core strength and even less balance, then look like a turtle on its back with your arms and legs flailing trying to build up enough momentum to flop yourself over so you can grasp onto the nearest object to haul yourself to your feet.  Gasping for breath, you ask yourself...How did this happen?

When you're 14, you have acne but they tell you not to worry, it's just a phase, you'll outgrow it.  When you're 40, you get acne all over again but it's even worse than when you were 14.  Nobody ever tells you that.  How did this happen?

When you're 16, you're able to wear cute halter tops without a bra.  When you're 40, you not only have to wear the underwire-triple-hook-extra-support-thick-strapped bras but you also have to reach into that sexy beast of lingerie and hoist each boob into the proper position so your nipples are even and your shirt doesn't look like a googly-eyed monster when you’re walking. Seriously, how did this happen?

When you're 18, you roll out of bed, leave the house in pajama pants to run to the 711 to get a Mt. Dew and a Snickers bar for breakfast and you get hit on by every guy you see.  At 40, you spend 2 hours getting ready, use expensive skincare and even more expensive makeup, put on the nicest outfit you bought from Target (and the only outfit you’ve bought in the past decade) and still look like a dump truck.  How did this happen?

When you're 21, you're able to drink 12 beers, take 6 shots and stay up until 4 am.  When you're 40, you drink one cranberry and vodka causing immediate explosive diarrhea forcing you to leave the party by 9 pm and you still wake up with a slight hangover after 8 hours of sleep.  How did this happen?

And when you’re 40, you face all of these problems daily and repeatedly ask yourself, How did this happen?

Some Say...

Some say...

There is no better feeling than the sunshine on your face...

but I wonder, have they ever danced in the rain?

Some say...

You should go to church and worship the Lord in His house...

but I wonder, have they ever sat in the middle of a forest and had a long talk with Him instead?

Some say...

The hardest part of having a newborn is the sleepless nights...

but I wonder, have they ever rocked a baby in their arms in the still of night and felt a bond so close their heart could explode?

Some say...

The best gifts are the unexpected ones...

but I wonder, have they ever given unexpectedly to someone else?

Some say...

Best friends make you laugh harder than any one else can...

but I wonder, have they ever needed a friend to hold them while they cried?

Some say...

They hope and pray for a healthy baby...

but I wonder, have they every looked into the eyes of a child with a disability and marveled at their courage and strength?

Some say...

You should never hold a grudge...

but I wonder, do they realize there is no resentment, just the need to eliminate a toxic person for a happier you?

Some say...

Family is everything...

but I wonder, have they ever met a black sheep who formed her own tribe?

Some say...

The harder you work, the more successful you'll become...

but I wonder, do they succeed in making time for play?  

Some say...

Nothing is more freeing than forgiving someone who doesn't deserve forgiveness...

but I wonder, have they ever forgiven themselves?


While I agree with some,

I also wonder...

do they ever agree with me?

What Blog?

My answer lately when people ask how my blog is going is: What blog?  I really suck at consistency.  Which is one of the reasons I was so hesitant to start a blog in the first place.  The end of October through December just sucked the life out of me and left zero time or energy for blogging. 

Here's a quick recap on what went on during those 2.5 months:

• We had 2 out of town funerals 2 weeks in a row.
• The husband left for 2 solid weeks for work, leaving me with 4 kids, a dog, a full-time job and a million carpools.
• My boss resigned leaving me to do his job and mine until we could get his replacement hired and trained - so make that 2 full-time jobs.
• During the husband's leave and lack of boss, I became deathly ill resulting in a trip to the hospital with a severe kidney infection caused by e coli.
• We took a trip to Hocking Hills for Thanksgiving weekend (my one and only time I blogged during these 2.5 months)
• Another out of town funeral.
• 8 Christmas Parties
• Christmas itself
• And in between all of that 1.7 million basketball games, cheer competitions, soccer games, etc.

So things have been a little crazier than our normal crazy lately but I've somehow managed to keep the kids alive, the dog fed and the husband out of jail.  So that's a win in my book.  

My new year's resolution is to be more consistent with blogging.  Let's just hope this resolution lasts longer than my weight loss resolutions each year.  

I truly appreciate your support and your patience. 

Cheers to silent nights...and being a better blogger in 2020.