Confession #2: The beauty of the phrase, “My husband travels.”

I’m hesitant to throw this confession out there because, well-being totally honest, I use this one on a daily basis. It gives me so much joy when a person asks, “So, do you have kids?” “Yep, I have 3” followed by a lil person that appears from nowhere and puts a badge of honor on my shirt while doves instantly fly in the background (all in my head of course) as I proudly proclaim, “And I have a husband that travels!” I’ve tried desperately to stop this habit, however, when the person I’m talking to looks at me like I just obtained some super human powers, I just can’t help myself.

I feel a sense of pride and accomplishment by those 3 words, but here’s the catch. Does my husband travel a lot? Yes, however, (and here comes the part I’m reluctant to share) it’s sometimes easier when he’s gone. Don’t get me wrong. I love having my husband home; it’s just when he’s gone the house runs pretty smooth and a lot of times smoother than when he’s home. The kids know I’m all business and they don’t have another parent to try to play. The worst is I’ve found myself while on the phone with my husband Brian saying things like, “oh my God, the kids have been crazy, but were good” etc. Truth is the kids haven’t been any crazier than normal, but I think it’s my sick way of placing guilt on my husband for sleeping in a hotel with pure peace, eating a meal without standing and chewing as though you only have 3 seconds to finish, and driving in a car without fighting children. Yes, I’m a awful wife for doing this, however, he plays this game too. “Oh I hate traveling!” “I hate eating out and having to entertain.” “I would give anything to be home with the kids and helping them with their homework.”

This being said, to all the other moms out there with “husbands who travel,” puff that chest out with pride, sister, and soak in the look of amazement the person you’re talking to gives you, cause any credit for all we do is worth taking!

Nice and peaceful at home, but my husband doesn’t always need to know that.

cute

Confession #40: A new year, a new me, and a new outlook on ourselves with a little self acceptance!

Confession #40:  A new year, a new me, and a new outlook on ourselves with a little self acceptance!

With the beginning of 2015 just peeking its head out of the universe, I’ve decided to throw myself out there this year in an attempt to achieve greater self-worth.  My New Year’s resolution is to be the best version of myself I can be because Lord knows it has to get better than this.  After looking back on 2014, I felt exhausted mentally, physically, and spiritually.  I had let my life become a bad version of Ground Hogs Day, with the same terribly daunting routine of work, after-school activities with the kids, a glass of wine (or 3) and then to bed.  If I’m being completely honest with myself, I sought laughter about my defeats as a mom and comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone. However, I never did anything to change the bad habits I’d so comfortably wrapped myself in on a day-to-day basis.  It wasn’t until one morning, after ruthlessly yelling at my older two kids before school, and hating myself because of it, that I locked myself in my closet sobbing to my Dad on the phone about what an awful mother/wife/person I was while my 2-year-old watched TV, that I decided I would no longer let this be how my story was gonna end.  I made a decision that day to put things in place for me to shed the anger I’d been carrying around with me, and chose to be a person my children would be proud of.  Now don’t get me wrong, ladies, this was not some overnight sensation with my days now being filled with roses and walks on the beach, but I did have that Oprah ah ha moment which truthfully I never believed existed. 

That being said, this year I’ll be focusing my blog on my journey to self acceptance and seeing my world for all of its blessings and not just its curses.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m positive God won’t let me off that easy.  The Luke stories will continue and my rants about parenting that host a dash of sarcasm and humor, which shockingly seem to be somewhat well received, will continue.  I am however, going to share with you not only my own triumphs and defeats, but tips and tricks on parenting that I’ve tested and mother approved.   I’m also so fortunate to be adding three amazing authors/bloggers to the confessions of a real mom blog this year.  To assist all of us “average moms”, these sisters from another mister will show us the way to be the best we can be, and do it realistically.  Two of these women will be sharing their expertise on health /fitness and fashion, not to be a size 2 and on America’s Next Top Model, but to help us feel like we’d have the confidence to audition for the show, and do nothing short of rock it.  The last edition will be a much-needed slap in the face of humor/reality that our lives so often lack in the marriage and kid raising department.  Each of these ladies will be spotlighted soon, sharing their role as a mom, and how they attempt to be the best version of themselves possible while keeping it real. 

This year is about us moms!!!  It’s a time to remind yourself that you matter, and that you have to put yourself first, yep, I just wrote that, in order to be someone who your kids can look up to and that’s OK.  You deserve to put just as much effort into making yourself happy, as you do to make your children happy.   It’s the trickle down effect that rarely gets the love and attention it deserves after you give birth.  I’m here to shed light on that part of what makes us amazing and remind myself, along with all of you, that you’re worth it.  You are beautiful!  You are strong!  You are brave!  You have the guts and strength to be the best version of yourself possible and guess what, you are worth it!  Welcome to 2015, moms, because this is our year!!!

 new years

Confession #28: Karma is a bitch, or is it?

Confession #28:  Karma is a bitch, or is it?  I remember being in my early twenties and seeing little kids with snotty noses and dirt on their faces and thinking there was no way in hell that would ever be my kid!  Kids wearing pajamas to the store with two different shoes and hair with the worst bed head I’d ever seen.   I’d shoot a discerning look to their parent and think to myself that they should be ashamed.  I mean after all, how difficult is it to pick out a totally cute outfit for your daughter and throw an adorable braid in her hair with a matching bow?  Is it really too much to ask to wipe your son’s face off and have him put on a cute pair of jeans with a shirt from Gap Kids and a pair of Converse?  While we’re at it, say something to your little turd who is acting like a total heathen by laying across the bottom of the shopping cart making car noises while you grocery shop and pretend like you don’t hear him.  Is that really necessary?  Can’t you incompetent moms see what a mess you and your kids are?  Oh good God, if I had only known!!!!!!
Flash forward 10 years and lo and behold, I’ve turned into “that mom.”  I see you twenty something looking at me with disgust at that mall because I’ve been wearing the same pair of black yoga pants for three days, and instead of brushing my hair I put on a baseball hat.  I feel your glares, girls, as you eye up my kids and think to yourself that you would NEVER and WILL NEVER end up like me.  You’re going to be a cool mom.  You’re going to be the mom that’s friends with her kids, and will never have to discipline because you’ll know how to parent.  After all, it’s really not that hard! 
The thing that they don’t see, as I didn’t at that age and pre kids, is that if your kids have clothes on (and they don’t even have to be weather appropriate), it’s a win in the war on parenting.  If they could only see the yelling that took place just to get your son to go back in his room and put underwear on under his basketball shorts because he’s going through some sort of weird no underwear phase, they may cut you a break.  If they only knew that your kids having something covering their feet, even if that means one flip-flop and one tennis shoe, it’s a win.  If they had any idea that you were the one who told your son to crawl under the shopping cart and pretend like it was a race car so you might actually be able to get some grocery shopping done without him whining for 10 minutes, they may rest on the eye rolling.  Better yet, if they didn’t whisper about you under their breath to their girlfriend, and understood that the reason you’re wearing the same pair of yoga pants for the third day in a row and your hair isn’t brushed is because showering is a true luxury when you’re a mom.  The baby got up at 5:30 again because molars are the devil.  After falling asleep on the couch in, yes, your yoga pants, you were too exhausted to even think to change.   In a quick moment of insanity, you looked at your kids and realized that you may squeeze an hour or so out of them without them killing each other, and decide to brave the winter weather with all three to go to the mall for some not so much ME time. 
I was once you twenty something.  I know where you are and where you’ve been.  Not to scare the living shit out of you, but, honey, you too will be me someday.  Your carefree world will be turned upside down, and the last person you will think of everyday will be yourself.  The happiness of your family will soon become your top priority and hearing the words, “I love you” from one of your kids will be better than front row tickets to any concert.  Instead of being hung over from a night out partying with your friends, you’ll be exhausted from being up all night after changing the sheets again of one of your kids who wet the bed.   Ya know what, twenty something, if you think you’re happy and have experienced fun, you have no idea what’s ahead for you.  The joy you get from your kid scoring a goal at a soccer game when they’re the worst player on the team.  The feeling you get when you see your kids sharing with each other without their lives being threatened.  Twenty something, I know you look at me like your life would be over if you had to spend just a day in my shoes.  Truth is, your life hasn’t begun until you walk out of the house in yoga pants that you’ve been wearing for three days, with kids who have different shoes on and have snotty noses.  Just wait, sister, and enjoy the ride because your turn will come and then you will see that being me isn’t so bad.

 

This is what you have to look forward to twenty somethings.  Guess what, you’re pretty lucky!!!

better

Confession #25: I hate the Elf on the Shelf!!!

Confession # 25: I hate the Elf on the Shelf!!  Let me re-phrase that, I hate everyone’s over involvement with the Elf on the Shelf.  
 
Moms, what happened?  I thought we were a band of sisters bound together by the common unbreakable bond of motherhood.  So many of you have crossed the line into over achieving in the elf department!  You have taken hiding this little menace to a new level, making us ordinary moms look bad.
 
Again, I find that a lot of my rants are based on pure jealousy.  With that I’ll ask, really what on Earth are you doing, moms?  God knows it’s not your husbands doing these things – finding the desire and time to be so creative with your elves.
 
I dread checking my Facebook feed in the morning so I can yet again feel like a complete failure of a mother looking at everyone’s ridiculously creative elf ideas.  My poor elf is lucky if I remember to even move him, let alone place him in a fishing boat into a sink full of marshmallows and goldfish crackers or taking selfies with the kids when they’re asleep.  I find myself most days waking up in a pure panic as I have 2.2 seconds before my kids get up to hide that stupid thing. 
 
Half the time my kids wake up screaming because he didn’t move from the day before.  This is when I go with, “Man, you must have been so bad that Elfy didn’t even want to go to the North Pole to tell Santa last night.  I’d step up your game today, kids.  Maybe he’ll move tonight.”  I know that’s awful, but it unfortunately comes rolling off my tongue with such ease. 
 
I will say this, however, there IS a sick and twisted beauty of the elf.  I mean when my kids are acting like complete deranged lunatics, I just stop and say, “Ya getting all this, Elfy!” and for the most part I just bought myself 2 minutes of “Holy shit, we better straighten up.”  Again, it’s only 2 minutes, but I’ll take what I can get. 
 
For all you over achieving moms out there, well this time you’re alone and I don’t want to relate.  I’m OK with being mediocre in the elf department and although I’ll never fully admit it, I’m a tad jealous.  Nice work, moms, nice work!
 
 
 
I realize this isn’t a picture of my elf and that’s because there aren’t any that exist. The best I could do was this picture of Luke a couple years ago as Santa for Halloween. I love that kid!
 
hallow

Confession #18: The store Justice is the devil!

I thought I’d share this post again in lue of school starting back up.  Hang in there moms, thankfully Justice only goes up to a size 14!

Confession #18:  The store Justice is the devil!!!!!  Any mother who has a daughter between the ages of 5 and 10 knows exactly what I’m talking about.  For those of you who don’t, consider yourself lucky; however,  let me paint the scene for you.  Justice is a girls’ store where everything is always 40% off (what a joke), and the clothes couldn’t be any cheaper quality or uglier if they tried.  Picture Madona in the 80’s and nothing but neon splatter paint and pink faux fur.  The worst is the section in the middle of the store where any little girl can and does spend hours looking at earrings, bows, pencils, bags, you name it because if it’s junk, it’s there!   I’ll give it to the founder of Justice.  Genius is all I can say.  I alone have spent countless hours and God only knows how much money in that little piece of hell smack dab in the middle of the mall.  I know that there is no such thing as a quick stop if my daughter is with me.  Heaven help me if she has a friend with her because I then just bought myself a good hour of nothing but, “Samantha let’s go.  You’re not getting anything!”  I would, however, like to give Justice a little friendly advice:   If you added a bar in the back and some comfortable seating,  I may not shoot daggers with my eyes at your store as I walk by, even when my kids aren’t with me.  I know I know, this may not be “appropriate”, but really one shouldn’t point the appropriate finger when they’re selling lace bras and bikini low rise underwear to little girls.  Just a thought Justice, just a thought.