This awful, beautiful life....

So while I was nibbling away on my ham sammie today at lunch, I stumbled across this article about parenting and blogging and how the trend lately is to relish your imperfections to the nth degree and that there is a level of pride at being really bad at being a parent.  The blogger who wrote about this trend also pointed out that while she's not perfect, she is however, trying to be the best mom she can be and more often than not, it's not terrible.  She also said about how she hopes that some day her children find her blog and that they cringe over the loving way that she talks about them.

Honestly, my first thought was 'WHOA, that shit goes on?  People WANT to be awful at parenting?'  and then I thought, 'I'm never ever perfect but I can't imagine my life without these people in it.'

All of it got me thinking, obviously, and more often than not it leads me over here to share things (and yes, I know I haven't been doing it overmuch lately but I'm trying to turn over another new leaf....hush, it might work this time).

And really my thoughts boil down to this:  I want my kids to know I love 'em. 

I write on my kid's facebook to drive him nuts (mostly because I can) partly and the other part is just my way of saying "HI, I'm thinking of you right now, gooberbutt".  

I, too, want them to read these words some day and think 'OMG MOM SHUDDUP' because they're so damned embarrassed by how proud I am of them. 

Don't get me wrong.  There are days when I literally cringe over the shit that comes out of my kids' mouths. 

Don't believe me?  Come sit by us on the bleachers during a baseball game and hand over a ring pop to either of my girls and they'll spill their guts, hanging me out to dry without a second thought. 

Like that they eat spaghetti-o's more than should be allowed or that sometimes they've literally got one pair of underwear left in the drawer before Mom hauls all of their dirty clothes to the laundry room.  Or how Mom cleaned out their big brother's room cussing a blue streak and that they heard some new words that day. 

Oy vey.

But sometime in the distant future I do hope they come across me talking how I got a little misty-eyed when the boy and I drove home from a ball game and sang Jack & Diane, laughing pretty hard when I jacked up the lyrics, and smile a little.

Or maybe they can remember the night when Sadie and I were lying in bed - head to toe - and I noticed a sore on her foot where she had had a splinter for awhile and didn't want to say anything, but we toughed it out, got it out, and hugged it out. 

Or maybe they can remember sitting up on Sunday nights after everyone was in bed and watching Hallmark movies and sobbing our eyes out. 

Or maybe they'll remember having a fever for a week straight and we went to the ER and Mom sat there all night and maybe she was scared to death but she didn't say a word except that it'd be okay. 

Yeah, because I want them to know that I'm not the best Mom in the world.  I'll never do some things right but I'd like to think I get it right some times and that maybe no one is going to love them quite like I do (or their Dad does). 

And I also want them to know that my life wouldn't be nearly as wonderful as it would be without them, hands down, bar none.  I wouldn't be as brave without them.  I wouldn't have found my voice without them.  I wouldn't be as loving without them.  I wouldn't be me at all without them. 

So, I hope this embarrasses them when they read it some day and they'll just shake their heads and say "Oh, Mom, you silly....goose."

I mean, honestly, by the time they get around to reading this, the hubs and I might be living in a cabin in the woods because the zombie apocalypse has occurred and we needed to get the hell outta dodge.  And maybe they'll be in the cabin next to us.  ;)

In closing, I leave you Darryl Worley's tribute to .... life: 

My fave lyrics out of it: 

I laid in bed that night and thought about the day
And how my life is like a roller coaster ride
The ups and downs and crazy turns along the way
It'll throw you off if you don't hold on tight
You can't really smile until you've shed some tears
I could die today or I might live on for years

I love this crazy, tragic,
Sometimes almost magic,
Awful, beautiful life

P.S.  I promise to get to the 40th birthday business....just not today. 

You Make it Real....

So, today is Monday. 

I know what you're thinking:  Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Heather.

But, it's true.  We're trudging through yet another weeks beginning and I packed yogurt for breakfast and when it's coupled with scorching hot coffee...well, let us just say that it's not the best combo. 

This morning was almost no good, horrible, and awful. 

Monday's are always gonna be Monday, ya know?  But when it's coupled with me not making my lunch the night before and blearily checking out the contents of our fridge hoping to make good food choices at 5:45 a.m. .... it's just a no go.

Adding in Jude waking up in a horrid mood.  There's nothing worse than a sour ass five year old, lemme tell you.  But I wrangled her miserable hiney around and by the time I dropped her at daycare (aka Second Mom Extraordinare, JK), she was all giggles and smiles.  She even raced me to the door. 

She won, obviously.

So after a fog-filled commute (that was out of doors, people.  Again, I know how your mind works), I arrived at work.  Woot.  I've beaten the odds already for a Monday.

After zipping through emails and voicemails and all of the things that couldn't wait till Monday morning, I settled into my day after rallying back and forth with my best pal via text message.  She makes me smile.  Rarely, if ever, am I unhappy about hearing from her. 

And the little protons and neurons (don't judge, I work for Pathologists but it doesn't mean I understand them.  I leave that to Jimmy Neutron) got firing in my brain.  I was thinking about people, the very few, that can make me smile on a Monday.  We all know how we feel about Mondays, right?  They stink.  And if people tell you different, they're on meds.  Or drunk.  Or one of 'those' people.  (You know who I'm talking about.  They're cheerful. *shudders*)

But it got me thinking about my batting line-up, if you will, of folks that are my go-to's for everything in my world.  That line-up consists of thus:

1.  At the plate, tapping the bat against the insides of their cleats will always be my kiddos.  They are who I look at and look forward to always.  Their shining faces are the people I see when I first wake up and the last before I go to sleep. 

2.  On deck, swinging at the imaginary ball as the pitcher zings one past, are my gal pals.  I have a few in my hometown and a few at work and a few online.  But, all of them?  They keep me sane.  (Shuddup, I hear you laughing.  I AM sane....most days)

3.  Leaning against the doorway just inside of the dugout, is my Momma.  She's amazing, funny, brilliant, and talented (apple didn't fall far, huh, gang? ).  She always, always, always help me put things into the proper perspective (she's a Libra - who's surprised by that?). 

4.  Lastly, batting clean up, is my guy, my Kenny.  Here's why:  Every gal in the world should have a Kenny in her corner.  He's my biggest champ and that guy can make me laugh even when I don't want to.  He helps me not take myself too seriously, to laugh a little, and even though his taste in movies stinks, I still love him a lot. 

This is my gang, my bunch, my team.  They're the folks that when it's the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, two outs, and there's a full count against me, I look over my shoulder and that dug out of mine is full of these folks.  Cheering and screaming with two thumbs up, they make me lift the bat off my shoulder, dig in, and take a swing.

They make me brave and foolish and fortunate.   

So, in closing, who's on your 'dream team'?