A quote worth copying

I had a reader tell me they'd rather hear my voice, not to throw in a bunch of other people's words, I think this is an acceptable exception.

Now you know my secret

Dianne Slade commented on one of my posts and took the idea of not judging others to the next level, she said "What ever happened to hoping another person would succeed or achieve? What ever happened to rooting for each other?"

I was AMAZED in fourth grade when my best friend and I tested to be on the academic decathalon team together, I made it and she didn't. She was disappointed as any 10-year-old would be but she decided to quickly, sincerely congradulate me. What an awesome example of a true friend. I always wanted to be smarter, prettier, better, and have more friends then anyone else. What an awful character flaw.

I love watching Dancing with the Stars, the Superbowl, the Olympics-basically any sporting event. I'm not an athlete. But when it comes to the performing arts, especially theatre I want to choose my role (usually the female lead). The theatrical culture is filled with competition and it's not in the least bit concealed. It is a thick almost tangible tension. Competition can bring thespians to endure late night rehearsals, wear painful costumes, and make themselves purposely look hideous on stage. I was privileged to have a drama teacher that helped me stretch and grow my talents and unknowingly (maybe) feed my ego. On the flip side, I remember coming to an audition unprepared and being called out on it. I was embarrassed but told anyone who wasn't there I didn't get a role because there wasn't one that I fit into. Wow. I ended up being the costume mistress.

Why is it so important to win? Why do I feel the need to push others down?

Just the other day I was at the park with Louie and I positioned her in the swing so that she wasn't blinded by the sun, something that was pointed out to me by a friendly, seasoned mom many years before. Next to us a grandma pushed a toddler who she unthoughtfully had placed with an intense glare blinding him. I didn't approve of this woman's decision but I didn't exercise the compassion to let her in on my little trick. He wasn't giving a belly laugh like most kids his age he just whined until she akwardly and visibly irritated took him out of the "baby" swing. I felt some satisfaction that I seemingly knew more about having a kid than my senior. Disgusting really, what a trait to carry, to consciously feed. Why did that make me feel good? Dr. Phil says, "We don't continue to do anything that doesn't give us something in return."

What is it pride? Competition? Should I call it jealousy? That is a more appropriate term as defined by Roget's Thesaurus (now you know my seceret). "Jealously denotes a feeling of resentment that another has gained something that one [thinks they] more rightfully deserve: to feel jealousy when a coworker recieves a promotion." That is the ugly truth. I'd rather call myself competetive.

This brings us to the part where I enlighten you with the resolve of how to heal this beast. The only thing I can come up with is to emulate someone who has a good soul. I just so happen to live in close proximity to one such person. She never complains, always welcomes my children into her home, exudes patience, is adorable with her husband and yet is real. She makes you feel good in her presence. She is inspiring and I can't imagine she has any of the aforementioned blemishes on her conscience. So I frequently ask myself, "What would Heather do?". (Similar, but not quite the same as, what would a nanny do?) If you don't have the wisdom, look to someone who does. They may have other demons but if what you see is what you want to be, mimic them. Study them. It is said if you want to be rich, hang out with rich people. Spend time with intelligent people if you desire more knowledge. Place yourself with people who are better than you, that should put you in your rightful place, a humble pupil of favorable character.

Good Morning-Open Your Eyes

My much younger brother and sister, who have yet to spread their wings, are over looking the tallest precipice of their lives. They have the whole wide world at their feet. I envy them. To be in that spot and to quietly meditate all the choices laid before you. To truly take an adequate amount of time to come up with an outline of a plan. To believe that no matter what direction you choose, when you jump you will fly.

Back on the ground we drag, families in tow. Children are resilient yes, but most of them are opposed to major change just like most adults. Our oldest daughter dispises any talk of a new job, living by the ocean, an adventure in Alaska. She will remind us, "I've been to six schools. I wouldn't go if you moved". Oh yes she would, silly girl.

With a family there is financial obligation, you can't just adopt the life of a drifter. I would love to be so carefree, to walk wherever the wind shoved me. A few years ago, I was in a conversation with some of my in-laws and they were talking about how they'd love to be rich, filthy rich. (Inarguably the most common goal, theme, aspiration, motivation in life.) I responded with an absurd and alarming comment that has some truth in it, "I don't want to be rich. I'd rather be homeless and smoke pot all day." In translation, what I think I was trying to say is "I don't want the responsibility of a grown up I'd rather just have the life of a cat". It still makes me giggle a little. I was living in the moment.

In life there is truly only a small window of time when life beckons you to choose, before it chooses for you. That time is in your youth. Your naive, uneducated, penniless, immature, fragile self has to try to navigate through town to the trail head. I know personally I quickly landed Plan B and now I'm living Plan F. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I have had to build up doors when opportunities didn't come knocking, you have to be brave. You have to do it.

Think of the friends you could make. When you all are single and ambitious you have so much in common in your circumstances but possibly nothing in common with your destiny. That makes life that much more exhilarating. People help shape us. People will help you when you can't help yourself. People will hug you and love you. People become your family.

Who wouldn't want a chance to go back and choose all over again? Cover some uncharted territories, carve a new path. Who knows you might just choose the same one, you boring creature of habit. Though we do not have the luxury of re-choosing where we are, we can live in the moment.

About seven years ago, I threw caution to the wind. I dropped everything. Some things were broken and others were lost but, what I want to share is that I felt so alive. Granted we can't all do this at the same time for the world might collapse however, we all need to try it sometime.  Letting go of everything is extreme. It is not responsible, so be careful not to stay there too long, you can't get that time back. How about just taking advantage of some tomfoolery every now and then? I remember jumping in the pool fully clothed at Troy's 30th birthday party, pretty soon it was full and became an unforgettable dance party. We skipped church one Sunday and took a drive to an ice cream shop we'd never noticed before. I had my future read by a psychic. We started going to concerts. I cut off all my hair. We had a family food fight at dinner mashed potatoes and all. We had a spitting water fight in the house which escalated to faucet sprayer verses full cups. Why am I now so boring? When did I stop living?

I am not suggesting you stop paying your bills, washing dishes (although my sink is always over flowing), making dinner, mowing the lawn and leaving it up to your spouse to balance it all. You can definitely find time, amongst all you do, in order to enjoy life. You must. Even if you have to begin solo, they will eventually join you, someone will.

Summer 2007 (almost makes me want to do it again, almost)

You may be so far removed from joy you don't even know where to begin. How about smiling more, laughing, getting out of the office, out of your house. Introduce yourself to someone new today, go to new restaurants, find a hobby, swim in the ocean next time you go to the beach, eat what you want, set some goals for yourself, do some home destruction so you have an excuse to do some home improvement, have a baby (only if you don't already), dance dance dance, buy an airplane ticket to somewhere you've never been, schedule your vacation time now.....The list is endless, go make your own.

Judge not lest ye be judged

We all do it, I don't care who you are. We look at someone and make assumptions, we converse with them, observe their interactions and think we know whether or not they could ever kill someone. Truth is there is no way to really know anyone including ourselves. Life has a funny way of influencing us all to constantly shift and shuffle our identities.

There are those who are taught to be weary, steer clear of those whose moral values don't align with their own. Some of my best friends in the world have completely different views on some of the essential elements: religion, politics, gun control. I can't imagine choosing friends based on where they are in life, their appearance, their sins, their mental health even.

I am guilty of rolling my eyes, scoffing,  spreading gossip, people watching at the fair (not so nice though admittedly entertaining) but, I genuinely care for most all human beings.

I find it interesting to hear people's stories. I have the gift of empathy which can be both a blessing and a curse.  I enjoy making friends with the most unlikely creatures. Most of the time I willingly serve anyone (my children, not so much-trying to teach them independence).

We won't always understand or approve of everyone and their choices but we can remind ourselves that we all are trying to slay the dragons. It's a battle to keep our heads above water sometimes. Wouldn't you like a hand if you were in a crisis you're trying to conceal....your emotions are so close to the surface that your auora gives you away?  Or if you found yourself holding the devil's hand being dragged through an addiction stronger than you? How about if you are resentfully working as an exotic dancer desperate to provide for your children? Have anxiety to the point that you are literally prisoner in your own home? A victim of sexual  abuse who struggles to  have an intimate relationship with your spouse? A pregnant teenager? The parent of a school shooter? Are you getting it?

Everyone of us fight differently when life throws down the gauntlet. Some of us give in, letting go of all hope to overcome, filled with fear. Some of us can't seem to walk away from our abuser. Some of us turn to drugs and alcohol to soothe the pains of hell. And yet others of us are strong enough to decline Lucifer's invitation. Don't for one second, you brave warriors, think that gives you the right to assume a higher position in the caste system that is still prevalent in our society. If you have climbed out of a deep whole don't leave your brothers to climb out alone. You needn't fall back in, just cast down the rope. We are here on this earth for each other.

It can be simple things that make you think less of someone-the fact that she has to sleep in her make-up to feel good about herself, that he acts like a girl, that she has the body you wish you had, that he walks with his chest puffed up, that she had a failed musical solo during worship, that he drinks a 6 pack every night after work, that he's covered in tattoos, that she's missing teeth, that her rear is hanging out of her shorts, that he's gay, that she wants to be a navy seal, that she has dreads. Don't worry you won't catch what they have, they aren't contagious.
So the antidote is to open up your mind, stop the gossip, look for the good in people and don't think that you always know what's up because you don't.
Be sure to teach your children acceptance, it'll make the world a better place.

"Maybe I annoy you with my choices, you annoy me sometimes too with your voice"- JMraz

Another stifling challenge, responsibility, title is that of wife (or husband). I have struggled with feeling free in a marriage. The truth is we aren't. Not free to prowl the street like a cougar. I'm just talking about the freedoms we took for granted, being able to come and go as we pleased. Make dinner or just eat ice cream out of the carton. Go out with friends without a curfew or checking in or an itinerary.There are different constraints to every relationship. In some situations the battles revolve around bank statements for others it's time management, yet others have to have their friends fingerprinted and approved. But for a majority, most rules are unspoken. It's as if once we've tied the knot we're no longer allowed to make decisions alone. Maybe my woes are exaggerated because I had just learned to make all those choices on my own before we got married. I was 18, he was 20. (And my husband is not in the least bit controlling-for reals.)

We are supposed to be one. How is that even possible? I am me. I love being just me. I love being able to take a walk without a shadow of any shape, size, age. I love being independent of anyone and anything. I love how my thoughts don't spill onto anyone else's canvas. I love that there is sometimes no way to put my feelings into words. Those are mine to keep in the crevices of my brain. 

Does that mean I don't love my husband? Absolutely not but, I'm not in love with the circumstances. Everything ordinary, mundane, exempt of fun, and weighing can be pinned to my husband. He helped me create a loving home full of children, a stable family with rules and consequences, we work together to provide and maintain the many needs of our household-all the things we wanted to grow up so quick to do. And now we're doing them.

Think about the last conversation you had with your spouse before you parted ways this morning. Was it flirty? Did you make one another breakfast? Were you wearing one of his work shirts and some sexy panties? Most likely none of the above. I know not everyday can look like the movies. Or can it?

Take the mommy vs. nanny scenario. Now apply the same principle to your husband and make yourself over into his girlfriend. (Or go big and take the part of Jude Law's nanny. Mind blown.)What if you take off your wedding band and only wear your beautiful rock of an engagement ring? Let it shine and bask in the attention you gave it long ago. Doesn't that feel a little different, don't you feel a little lighter? Maybe a little excited to see him again? Send him a text?

Oreo Big Stuff

What to do with a whole day off? The trick is not to overthink it. Sometimes you make it out to the lake and sometimes just back into bed. No matter, it is never wasted.
I managed to make a mess of a room even messier and then we got down to business. Months ago the boys had shuffled rooms without any help. At the time I thought good, as long as everyone is happy and they can do it themselves, go for it. But the easy way isn't ever the best way.
As we began trying to find homes for things we first had to uncover the layers of things! I quickly began cursing myself for having ignored these bedroom disasters for so long. Where did it all come from? A corner of candy cane paper still clung to a sealed Lego kit, a backpack spewing last day of school remains, empty 2 lt soda bottles, half used loaves of clay, broken Nerf gun darts, boxes full of boxes of trash, science kits, pottery wheels (yes plural), Hot Wheels cars and tracks, puzzles, books, art kits, silly string, clothes, dirty clothes, out grown clothes, colored markers, colored pencils, construction paper, Lego men, stuffed animals, aquarium paraphernalia, an old office multi-line phone,  dressy clothes, play clothes, clothes with holes.  All of this and the most common phrase out of their mouths........."There's nothing to do, I'm bored." Hence, no more stuff. Please don't buy them anymore stuff. No toys, no clothes, no things. We filled boxes and bags with clothes, books, toys intermingled with actual trash. I had never done that before-I actually threw toys away. I was so fed up with the heat of the afternoon sun that streamed into the upstairs bedroom, and the lack of space to maneuver. We hauled crap out to the curb. We disassembled a large desk and the infamous little girl toddler bed and lined them up next to the street.

The boys don't play in their rooms. They hang out with friends, they ride bikes, they jump on the trampoline, they play games on their tablets, our phones, they play on the Xbox, they paint and sketch and make food to eat, they do not play with toys.

Toys are what we mistakenly give children because we feel we have to. The stuff becomes a trap of sorts. If they are young enough the trap is as I already mentioned, physically in their way of real play. As we grow older the trap can become more emotional we can feel obligated to the gifter. Stuff really doesn't make us feel any better, happier, more blessed. Personally, I hate stuff. I had forgotten how trapped it can make me feel. How much time I spent on my holiday weekend sifting through, making places for, rearranging, wiping off, picking up, carrying downstairs, marking, washing, and sorting STUFF!

It felt so good to get rid of so much and I will keep going. But I will also have to make a statement to change this cycle. I will have to tell grandma we don't want anymore stuff. Gift cards please.

Demolition Day

No sledgehammers went through the walls, no window panes were smashed to have the shards of glass cover the floor like glitter, but I felt like it was just as dramatic...I ripped up the carpet.  For sometime now the smell of pets permeated the living area of our home. Without fail when I'd walk downstairs I'd be disgusted. Multiple times a day I would wrinkle my nose and proclaim, "It stinks in here, I hate it."  Finally, I'd had enough. After making sure my husband was on board, I started at the transition to the tile and just lifted it up. It was so easy to pull it away from the wall, the carpet came up with hardly any resistance. I rolled it neatly and was pleased. Then came the mat. It rolled fairly easily as well and I was disappointed it didn't look worse then it did but, oh the smell. It was the source of much grief and irritation. I was doing it, I was changing something that had bothered me for quite some time. I don't know the next step. However, I do know, now that I've begun it will have to be finished.

I started to look around at all the other things I dislike, the baseboard, the color of our walls, the windows, the blinds, Troy hates the kitchen cabinets and layout, we could use another bedroom and bathroom, let's put in our master landscape plan in the backyard, dig a pool, put up a new fence.....
Instead of feeling overwhelmed with my list of things we'd like to change I was ready to tackle it. If I can pull up the carpet and not smell cat piss, I'm convinced I can do anything.



Change is inevitable. When you embrace that truth, making changes yourself isn't as scary. If life is going to throw things at you, both good and bad-why not put your own changes in the mix? Why not do more? see more? be more? What are you afraid of? Now go after it. Easier said then done, I know. It is scary to move, to leave, to make a big purchase, to run a new route, to pull a child out of school to teach him yourself, to envision the path that will lead to your happiness. Pulling up the carpet and mat was the easy part. The part of the project that provided enough of a reward that I was encouraged to keep going, I knew I was on the right track. Now we're at the point where decisions must be made, what will we replace it with? Leave it cement? How much will it cost? This point is unavoidable. I can't go climb back into bed with the hopes that when I decide to get up my floor will have renovated itself. I have to be fully engaged in this project, blood, sweat and tears. Lucky for me I don't have to do it alone. None of us do. I have faith that once this floor is complete I will have satisfaction, I will have taken a problem and fixed it. I didn't allow the stench of the carpet to be dissolved into the jar of all the things I dislike. I ripped it out, cut it off, threw it away, freed myself of all it's many stains. Don't hold on to smelly carpet, you're kids will get sick from it's germs and pretty soon none of you will have friends.


I went walking last night and disclosed my seemingly brave decision to begin a remodel with my bare hands. Tawna told me her sister-in-law took an axe to their kitchen cabinets one day while her husband was at work because she was so sick of looking at them. I need to meet this girl!


It may not be wise to dismantle, break, render unrepairable, trash, or ruin any particular part of your house whether it be ugly, smelly or old. On the other hand if it brings you to a point where you can see past the walls that have been closing in on you, it has given you much more than a new and improved floor to gaze at. If you hate something take it upon yourself to change it. That may involve power tools or just the power to change yourself. Some times the problem is purely physical and other times it involves heart, mind and soul. What in your life needs renovating....

Confinement, Hope: Two Peas in a Pod

The feeling I have the least amount of tolerance for is that of confinement. Feeling trapped in an unfit body, an intense mind, an unhealthy relationship, a house with no car, a job with no opportunity for growth, or trying to raise kids without money. When I feel that I have no choice in the matter it drives me crazy. That's when I want to run-far, far away. Running doesn't eliminate any of the reality, it only temporarily avoids the burden and postpones the consequences.The very nature of many of life's circumstances are restricting. Perhaps we made a choice initially and wish to take it back. Perhaps we are resisting the fact that everything changes or that we have to grow up. Perhaps some one else's decisions have put us in a compromising place, taken our happiness from us.

In attempting to find a common theme for this blog- as to captivate a diverse audience and keep you all hooked- I've decided that the thread that will connect us is that of unfortunate situations. Although, we won't stop there. The purpose of a village to join hands is to help and lift. Through one another's experiences we can find comfort, relief, unity and even self worth.


No matter who you are, where you live or what your circumstances-there is always hope.
"We learn to cultivate hope the same way we learn to walk, one step at a time. There may be times when we must make a courageous decision to hope even when everything around us contradicts this hope. Hope sustains us through despair. Hope teaches that there is reason to rejoice even when all seems dark around us."  -Dieter F. Uchtdorf


The stories of Corrie Ten Boom and her sister Betsie are courageous and of the character we can all become in our own horrific situations. Thankfully most of our discomforts, complaints and sufferings won't compare to their strife.

Corrie writes:

"Barracks 8 was in the quarantine compound. Next to us--perhaps as a deliberate warning to newcomers--were located the punishment barracks. From there, all day long and often into the night, came the sounds of hell itself. They were not the sounds of anger, or of any human emotion, but of a cruelty altogether detached: blows landing in regular rhythm, screams keeping pace. We would stand in our ten-deep ranks with our hands trembling at our sides, longing to jam them against our ears, to make the sounds stop.

"It grew harder and harder. Even within these four walls there was too much misery, too much seemingly pointless suffering. Every day something else failed to make sense, something else grew too heavy."

They couldn't go anywhere, they had absolutely no freedoms. They were in a life or death situation of which I'm sure death seemed the desirable choice at times. When they were moved to Barracks 28, Corrie was horrified by the fact that their reeking, straw-beds were swarmed with fleas. How would they survive here?

It was Betsie who discovered God's answer:

"'"Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God." That's it, Corrie! That's His answer. "Give thanks in all circumstances!" That's what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!'

"I stared at her; then around me at the dark, foul-aired room…"

They thanked God for the fact they were together. They even thanked God for the horrible crowds of prisoners. And then, Betsie thanked God for the fleas.

"The fleas! This was too much. 'Betsie, there's no way even God can make me grateful for a flea.'

"'"Give thanks in all circumstances,"' she quoted. 'It doesn't say, "in pleasant circumstances."  Fleas are part of this place where God has put us.'

"And so we stood between tiers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong."

It turned out that Betsie was not wrong; the fleas were a nuisance, but a blessing after all. The women were never bothered by supervisors coming in and harassing them. They finally discovered that it was the fleas that kept those supervisors out.  (Excerpts taken from The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom)

Even under unbearable circumstances these sisters were able to turn their sour situation into a sweet prayer of thanks. Amazing. If they can do it why can't we? Why can't we see our children as blessings, our spouses, our homes, our jobs, even our pets? We can, it is a choice. A choice to look beyond ourselves and our own prisons, to see the sunlight no matter how tiny the window. But it isn't that simple. Sometimes it takes awhile to get to the point where we are ready to let go of our misery, stop playing the victim, to take charge of our lives. And so we will blog. We will try to understand one another in the pain each unique situation presents. And then we will raise each other up to overcome the challenges life thinks will keep us down. I say-Bring it.

Try Again

This past week my mind has been elsewhere and my Nanny role has fallen to the floor. I slipped on it and back into my instinctive, nurtured, autopilot ways. Patience-zero. Irritability-10. And with no hormonal excuse.
In a parenting class I took years ago the instructor challenged us to go home and make the faces we make to our kids in the mirror, so we could see what they saw. The range of expression from disappointment to you better run. I have to say I didn't do it, the thought of it was visualization enough. Did my intimidating grimaces produce different, more desirable behaviors? Absolutely not otherwise I wouldn't be blogging. We know that being mean, constantly punishing rather than disciplining and being out of control just doesn't work-for anyone involved.
This morning I am resolved to find that peaceful Mary Poppins facade and fly with it. The bottom line is I love myself infinitely more when I don't treat my kids like I do the dog. When I respectfully listen to their complaints and triumphs without rushing them or saying, "how about later". When I bite my tongue as they walk out the door a fashion disaster.( Boys really don't care. In fact they would just as well sleep in, wake up in and wear the same shirt and pants all week long. Awesome.) When I resist the temptation to nag them to redo the toilet but instead lovingly instruct them how to do a superior job and make it shine.
I'm telling you with my Nanny hat, I can do anything. Strange really but if it works why not? I have faith that I will evolve into a creature that no longer has to rely on make believe to enjoy my most important tasks. I won't always have to pretend to be the hired help nor will it always be appropriate.

Disclaimer: I haven't always despised kids and my coping mechanisms were different in days past. When my older four were little, (5 and under) life was different in every way. We lived in California and had two sets of  grandparents who offered relief on occasion. I was convinced being a mother was all I needed to be fulfilled. I was busy and outnumbered, I couldn't blink. I was proud to have so many kids at the tender age of 25. -Haha-I was definitely unaware of what lay ahead even though the grandmas would say...this is the easiest part. The sleep deprived, unshowered, thoughtless, always cleaning up, buckling four car seats, can't go anywhere without a catastrophe, trekking four into the restroom in the middle of every grocery trip, constantly having some one crawling on while another was suckling on, and the crying was.... "the easiest part"? Whatever, I got this.
They all wanted to be in my company and I could make all the decisions without meeting too much resistance. I found joy in giving them new adventures. I wanted them to be well rounded. We would walk to the library sometimes twice a week, we went to playgroup every Thursday morning religiously, we went on field trips to the zoo, we played at the park a lot. I realized that was how I dealt with the constraints of motherhood, we went places.We got out of the house. It's also the way I contained the witch inside of me. I lost my cool then too but I wouldn't ever yell in public or spank, (that's when I would pinch). Being out kept me accountable with so many witnesses. I had to be on good behavior. I reveled in the disbelief, "Are they all yours?" ,"You're too young to have that many". I probably was too young but I was doing it and well.

 Here's to a new day make it a good one, who knows, it might be your last. Just sayin'.

What is this I see?

The past few days, hours really, I've had some deep discussion with a close friend. As I shared the contents of my blog, my soul, I was reminded that I am many things. I am much more than a ragged mom. I am a writer, a lover, a mother, a dancer, an actress, a singer, a worker, a listener, a funny person, a brilliant thinker, a DOER-the last of which makes all the others happen. When I want to do something, nothing can stand in my way. I am a strong woman. Motherhood will not break me.


We are all born with a unique combination of natural gifts. Some of our gifts work directly in our personal lives and families. Some I believe we were given to have affect on the greater of society to "make a difference in the world". The latter set of skills is what we must never let go of even when our focus is inward on our children for a time. When we forget what we are capable of, our God given strengths, we loose ourselves. We must fortify ourselves by indulging our spirits with continual growth. We must do things that make us proud and things that bring us satisfaction with the lives we are living or are seemingly trapped in.



One of the things that brings me so much guilt is the selfishness I possess and choose to spread like -a suffocating layer of butter. But as I have taken a step back, and ironically focused on me, I have found I also have been endowed with love and kindness. I had to find how to pull it out of myself. I had to find a way to want to share it with my family- the ones who will have deep rooted memories of how I treated them.  How did I want to be remembered? What would they write about me, what stories would they tell their children? I know that life isn't intended to be so grotesquely horrid. We aren't supposed to hate ourselves especially when we are giving our all. I have found peace in my heart as I have let go of some of the nitty gritty. When I can answer that what they are doing isn't really all that detrimental to their future, it shouldn't be devastating to my present.




As I've begun to rediscover myself and take inventory of what I believe in, who I want to be, where I will take my life, it has been magical. I have become alive again. I'm ready to face my fears and try new things and let go of some of the old. I reminded myself there are no "have tos". I don't have to volunteer for anything. I don't have to keep my house clean. I don't have to make my kids do their homework. I don't have to make dinner every night. I don't have to be what anyone else finds acceptable. I don't have to contribute to every discussion.  I don't even need to shower or smell good.
All I need to do is be okay with myself, choose to take the high road, and try to make each day better than the last. That perseverance is nothing short of miraculous given the nonsense life hands us. I have uncovered my past love for writing. I can't seem to contain myself. There was literally a part of my brain that had become dormant, had fallen asleep. No wonder I was constantly unmotivated and facing boredom despite all the stuff I thought I had to accomplish every single day. So go find yourself, if you don't have a past passion search out a new one. So what if it doesn't stick, embrace the fondness of whatever it is, if only for a moment. Learning is enlivening and what we all need to get through the mundane. Dive in, I'm excited for you.

In Good Company

Secret admirers are the best but even better is the reveal.
After posting  to this new world of blogging last Monday and Tuesday, I was able to look through the windows into a lot of mother's souls. They weren't much darker or lighter than my own. Some of the ones I assumed had it all together, simply don't. I was impressed by the compassion that was shared, the common misery.  I was surprised that at least three others had had their own mother announce that they were not to call her Mom but by her first name, or in one case Ms. Miller, instead. It made me feel so at ease. I shook before publishing that first post.
I know I should feel grateful for the children I am responsible for but sometimes it's the last thing I want.
Thank you for sharing your honest, mother hearts.

Mother's Day Love it or Hate it

Sunday was Mother’s Day. I have never felt worthy of the praise on Mother’s Day. It was always such a depressing day. I hated how I mothered. I hated how negative and ugly I was with my kids. But this Mother’s Day was different. I felt proud and in awe of the self control I had exercised if only for five days. But that five consecutive days was a feat that had never before been accomplished. And it was all because I pretended not to be their mother.

I want to scream my secret of success from the rooftops. I want to give every mother the opportunity to turn her family around, to love herself and to have hope. Hope in the future, that in the journey of motherhood no one has to die. Relief to know that she isn’t the only one who hates her kids and herself on occasion.

Week One

The next morning was different. I had a brilliant idea. Instead of auntie I would be.... the nanny.
I helped the kids get ready with all the patience in the world because when you are a nanny you don’t yell. You are working for someone to keep the children cared for and the house clean. I worked hard and had things under control before school began and before I had responsibilities to complete for my actual job. I stayed on top of the laundry and fixed dinner. I made an afterschool treat for the kids to come home to and was just happy. I hadn’t felt that joy at home for as long as I can remember. I had always had feelings of guilt and regret. Regret that the last words I ever spoke to them before school or before bed were negative and harsh. We were always rushed and I didn’t have time for them.

My mind started to race as I made all kinds of new connections. If I was a nanny, I couldn’t complain about the house, it wasn’t mine. If I was a nanny I would get to have days off and a quitting time. If I was a nanny I would have a life outside to enjoy. If I was a nanny there would not be a toddler bed in my room. If I was a nanny I wouldn’t drive a minivan, that was now a work vehicle but important to treat with care since it wasn’t mine.

I began to see everything differently. My perspective had changed dramatically. I asked my husband for a meeting so we could go over my responsibilities as nanny. He chuckled and said well since we live together, I’m sure that can be arranged. (I know I'm taking things a little to the extreme but I’m a very black or white type of person. I was also a theatre major in college and so this isn't really a stretch for me, to take on a new persona.)

I quickly realized having the kids call me Stephanie was uncomfortable. I just thought of the word “Mom” as my new name. I had never before had success telling myself not to yell and then following through for more than the first encounter. But I didn’t yell for the rest of the week! My self esteem had improved dramatically as I found I could keep myself in check. I had patience beyond my ability and loved life. I looked forward to the day because I was challenging myself, seeing how long I could keep up the charade. The amazing thing is that other than my best friend who called the idea genius and my husband, no one knew I was playing a game.

I couldn’t hold it in and I shared my new found secret of motherhood with a few other women. One commented how she really didn’t want to be the nanny she hated cleaning up after them. Another gave me the insight of why it was working so well, she said that the kids were hurting me so the separation I put between us was a means of protecting myself. That was exactly it. Placing space between my kids and I mentally gave me protection. I didn’t take anything personally because, they weren’t my kids.

I didn’t break up their fights, I didn’t nag them to clean, I didn’t ask them about their homework. It felt so good. The homework got done, there were no major crises and I was happy.

The Thought of It

I came up with the idea that I would rather be their grandma but I definitely don’t look the part at 34,  not believable. What about their auntie? I could spoil them and not have to deal with the aftermath or the sugar crashes. I could love them but not have to discipline or nag. I could just be a favorite without doing anything I didn’t want to!

I went downstairs and announced. “Don’t call me Mom anymore. You can call me by my first name, Stephanie.” My husband looked at me as if I was crazy and totally inappropriate (I’d seen that look many times before). Someone said something upsetting to me so I said, "Okay I’m leaving" and headed to the garage my little one in tow. She asked if we could jump on the trampoline so I obliged. We giggled and jumped, ran and played Ring-Around-The-Rosies. It felt so good to leave the food out and the dishes behind. I didn’t have a care in the world, I was no longer a mommy, I was free.

We ended up with the whole family playing outside and when it got dark we didn’t let the party stop. We came inside and had a Dance Central battle. Then we played our own music and let all our inhibitions fly. We enjoyed each other and stayed up too late on a school night. But it wasn’t my place to say when it was bedtime, I was just auntie. 

Don't let them fool you...

Ashton, Louie, Gavin, Kylie, Dylan

This is Why

I didn't want to come back, ever. Packing an overnight bag felt powerful, freeing. Being around them brought such intense feelings.  I felt hatred toward them and defeat. These feelings had been with me for weeks and I couldn’t shake them.  I wondered why I had ended up here, a mother of five. I would gladly trade them in.

I googled, “What to do if you hate your children”, some pretty ugly discussions popped up. I didn't sincerely hate them I just didn't have any desire to be around them. Someone always had a hang nail, or was pushing the boundries, there was fighting, I was constantly nagging them to contribute to the family if only by flushing the toilet, I was embarrassed by their appearance, I struggled every day to find the desire to leave my bedroom door to the hell that awaited me, motherhood.

I scoffed at the women that claimed that they had always wanted to be a mother and they found joy in their children. I didn’t understand how that was humanly possible. What was wrong with me? I must be a terrible mother.

I questioned why in the world I was “blessed” with five children. I am not capable of handling five. The thing that made me the most apprehensive was the fact that we were just beginning the teen years. 

I don’t yet possess the skill to “not react” as every seasoned parent stresses is the most important when dealing with your children’s absurdly stupid choices. I am a terrible candidate for motherhood.

I hated the fact that I treated my family so terribly. I gave them the worst of me.

Maybe it doesn’t seem like much but, moms out there know it is impossible to do it all. Especially when you have too many kids. I constantly reminded them that the only reason we have such an untidy, boarder line filthy house is because of them. Do you really think my house would look like this if I didn’t have any kids? I once announced that if I was doing what I truly wanted with my life I wouldn’t be a mom. That was probably going too far. But that is honestly what I believed. I hated my life.

I ran to my best friend’s house where I found sanctity. I decided I didn’t want to go home. However, it would be unfair to my husband to try to find child care, so I conjured up the plan to go home to do my duties and take care of the two year old during the day but retreat to some unknown destination every evening. I would be content sleeping in the van with the seats down in a secure, well lit parking lot, the hospital perhaps. Then they would surely miss me and appreciate all that I do. My husband needed to feel my anguish. I didn’t really want to punish him but he hadn’t really been listening to my pleas in the past few weeks as I told him, “This is too much, I can’t do it. I’m not capable.”

The logistics of it all weren't realistic so, I returned to the place of my affliction for more mistreatment.

The next morning went the same as every morning. I had to get out of bed to wake the lazy middle-schoolers who for some reason don’t like to use their alarm clocks. Then I woke up the elementary age children one of who I must give instruction to for the whole ninety minutes he is awake before taking him to school. If he ventures upstairs during any portion of the routine, forget about it. It could be days before he comes out and in the same condition as he went up, smelly, not dressed, teeth grimy, cat not fed. Yet a Lego castle has been constructed.

Once they were all gone, the baby and I were off to run errands, do some work for one of my three jobs and hit the grocery store since it is impossible to stay stocked up on just the necessities with a house full.

The day is almost over, we still have dinner to prepare and share as a family at our table which is one chair short for our family of seven. I’ve told the family that either the dog goes or mom goes. The pet lovers snickered as they whispered, “We’d rather keep the dog, she’s going to run away again any way”.  They were taunting me the way they would a substitute teacher. I was weak from the past few weeks of struggling with the idea of even living with them and I found myself sobbing uncontrollably. I took my plate upstairs to dine alone in the bedroom our two year old called her own. I ate what little I could choke down and threw myself on my bed. Yep, I hated them.