I was in a particularly good mood the other day and wanted to reward my daughters for being my daughters.  We threw out the soft sided pool that they had last year because it had cracked and frayed in the hot, Texas heat.  So when I thought of something that was not wasteful or would be destroyed in no time at all, a large plastic pool – preferably one with the little slide – seemed like the perfect solution and still gave my girls that little gift that I was in the mood to reward!

I picked up the two girls that were in school and headed to Walmart.  I had spotted the perfect pool out on their sidewalk the week before.  Blue with red and purple trunked alligators, it had a slide but was not so deep that I had to worry about my kids not being able to stand up.

Seeing as I have yet to be able to make a deal on a Suburban – it’s been a month, come down on the price people – I am still in my trusty minivan.  And everything I have tried to get into it before has fit.  Three kids and their three carseats, a double stroller, a triple stroller,  groceries for a month and so on.  Surely, a little blue pool with the red and purple tanked alligators and the slide would fit easily inside.  Especially since a second row seat was out.

Surely.

We get to the store and I pay – almost sight unseen – for the blue pool with the red and purple trunked alligators.  I buckle my kids into the car and pull around to the curb where a very nice young man has offered to help me load the pool.

The very large blue pool with the red and purple trunked alligators that would not even fit in the hatch, much less the interior of the car.

Standing there dumbfounded - because surely an unbending plastic pool with a circumference of 6′ should fit into a three foot opening that leads to a space that is 4′ wide – I try to think on my feet.  Not my strong suit.

After a minute the very nice man offers to go into the store and buy me some rope so that he can use his fishing knot skills and tie it to the top of the van.  In the six years that I have owned this car, nothing has been tied to the top.  Impressed by this novel idea I wait out with the kids while the rope is purchased.

And then the nice man and I spend a good 20 minutes tying the pool to the top of the van.  Open side down.  With thin rope.  And fishing knots. I head out convinced that if I drive slow, I’ll make it the 15 miles home.  On a windy day.

I get about 2 miles down the road and the pool falls off the roof.

Facepalm.

I sit for a second finding myself once again dumbfounded.  How did that not work?  A round pool tied to a roof with rope?  With fishing knots?  Surely that should have been secure.

Deciding that the unbendable pool would have to bend – even if it meant breaking – I got out of the car leaving three chattering girls talking over one another about how mommy made the pool fall off the roof  - I SO did NOT! – and rounded the car to see the pool, one part of the rope still attached, laying next to the van.

I need a Suburban.

Taking a deep breath, I open the sliding door to expose three excited little girls and my 4′ space.  I start to pull the pool up and cram it in  - there is no way in jelly beans this is going to fit – and I hear Sarah say, “Look Mom, it’s Miss April!”

Trying to explain to her that it is impossible for our wonderful neighbor, Miss April, to be anywhere near us at this time as she was on her way home from work from the other side of town, I hear, “LORI!”

I turn around to see my neighbor running full speed ahead.  Shaking my head in disbelief, I am struck by how incredibly odd this is!  She works an hour from our neighborhood, comes home a different way than where I was, and is usually about ready to run one of her boys somewhere at this time.  Surely she was not on this busy road during rush hour watching my moment of incredibly genius unfold for all rubberneckers to see?

But it was her.  And even more importantly, it was her and her empty SUV.

Still totally baffled at how incredibly this was all unfolding I help her cram the pool – which bends slightly, after all – into the back of her SUV.  And say a little prayer to God above for sending me my little Guardian April!

So in response to the question, “How many moms does it take to bring a little blue pool with red and purple trunked alligators and a slide home to my girls?”  The answer is two.

And an SUV.

It can be tough being a mom.  I am talking beyond sleep deprivation,  messes that never end and children who never.sleep!  Guessing what to do sometimes in situations can be just as hard.. and much more embarrassing!

We got an invitation to a tea party birthday party a few weeks ago for one of Katie’s ‘BFF’s’.  We could not have been more excited.  Katie talked about it almost daily and when she got Strep Throat, was worried she’d miss it.

The day came and, as usual, we had 75,000 other things going on.  I had been up the night before until 3am folding laundry and getting ready for our new housekeepers to start, my husband was trying to install a doggie door and we had no gift.  So I took a lightening shower, threw three daughters in the car – promising to change them into proper tea party attire later – and headed to the store for a present.

Now, the party was actually for twins.  But only one of the twins was in Katie’s class.  So, on the invitation the mother had written that no gifts were necessary but if we got one to just get for the one child in Katie’s class.  I went back and forth on whether I should get two gifts since they do see the two together at neighborhood functions and such.  I decided in the end to honor the mom’s wishes.  Deciding that mom knew best -and was probably trying to eliminate present overload – we got one gift.  One card.  And put one name on it.

By the time I got my three girls home, put the gift together, gave them all time to write their names  - could you Puleze hurry! – on the card and double checked the address, it was time to leave for the party.  Messy hair and unmatched outfits and all… and the kids did not look any better either.

I get to the party with all three girls and immediately realize that I should have only brought one.  There simply was not space at the table for my two tag-a-longs.  So I called my husband and had him come get my littlest one.  Privately scolding myself for not  knowing that Katie is now at that age that when her name is on the invitation, it is meant just for her, I went about chatting up other moms and pretending like I had a clue and praying one little girl would not show up so Sarah would have a seat.

And trying to divert attention away from the fact that my girls were the only two not in tea party dresses and not wearing pretty bows in their unkept hair… that was hanging in their eyes.  The party went on, I met some really fantastic moms, chatted up the host and ignored the fact that I felt like I should have prepared for this better.

And then it was present time.  And on the gift table sat pair after pair of matching bags and presents.

And my one bag.

I racked my brain trying to think if I had made the ‘one present’ thing up in my head.  I was sure I’d seen it.  I remembered making a mental note.  I swear I was right.  But no one else seemed to get the note.  Or maybe I was missing the mommy alert telling me that that was just ‘talk’?

The girls opened set after set of presents, growing ever closer to mine.  With every one I felt more and more uncomfortable.  Thinking hard about the things I had at the house, I wondered if I should jump the fence, run home, find a toy still in tact, throw it in a bag and return to the party, second gift in hard, and pretend like it was there all the time. But I had forgotten my Superwoman cape at the dry cleaners and was sure that I would not be able to pull off such a feat without it.

I nervously talked to a mom next to me, dropping the hint that I was told one present.  She noted that most of the guests were family and that – yes – the request was probably made… and ignored.

They got to my one present with the one name on it and there was a moment where the second present was searched for.  I.was.mortified.  And then the mom said it was one to share and they moved on.

My face red, I banished myself to ‘Birthday Party Foul’ school and racked my brain for the reason I could not have figured out that the party was for 2 so we needed two presents.  I mean, I could have Googled the etiquette at least.  I beat myself up almost to tears.  I was so embarrassed.

I should have know.

This was the ultimate mom embarrassment.  The point where I contemplated handing my uterus to my husband.

Clearly I should have known.  And even after I asked the mom if I had read the card wrong and she assured me I had not, I still gathered my kids and headed home in complete shame.

Next time, 10 kids – 10 gifts.  I don’t care what the card says.  I committed a mom party foul.  And I am still embarrassed about it tonight.

Find more Motherhood Posts at My Recent Writings

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I think I am pretty alert to my kids and how they are feeling.  Some would disagree but I can usually tell if one of them is being overly dramatic or is truly not feeling well.  I think most moms have this skill… I am not special.

So when my daughter Katie, who LOVES school, woke up Monday morning and told me that she was not feeling well and she wanted to stay home and help me clean, I know something had to be terribly wrong!

She would never offer to help me clean.

I called her pediatrician and they said they were booked solid but would call with an opening.  After all, she had no symptoms.  No fever, no runny nose, no rash.  Just her word that I was taking her on.

I also thought, though, that I would go ahead and take my 4 year old Sarah in as well if they had an opening.  She had complained of headaches the day before which was very unusual for her.  But then, she has been struggling with a little girls illness at her preschool so I kind of thought that she was reacting to that.

The pediatrician never called and by mid day, all three girls seemed to recover from headaches and cleaning fever.  So I chalked it up to a day of hookie, reminded myself that Katie is getting old enough to “play” me and took them to get their hair cuts and then out to lunch.

They got up Tuesday and Katie tried to pull the same thing.  Scolding myself for caving the day before, I climbed over the mess in my living room that little miss, I want to stay home and clean never did pick up and reminded her that school is not optional.  Unless she is burning up with fever.  Or bleeding.  Or it is a holiday.

She went to school and seemed to have a great day.  Wednesday, Sarah went to preschool and Katie went to Kindergarten.  All seemed fine.

Until the both came home and passed out in my bed before 5 o’clock at night.

Not the norm by any means!

So this morning, I called the doctor and told them that Sarah was complaining of headaches again and seemed lethargic.  Katie actually seemed fine this morning but I took her as a tag along just in case the doctor wanted to see her.  I was planning to drop her back at school after the doctor told me she was fine.

We get to the pediatrician, all three girls singing and dancing all the way, excited to waste mommy’s money on another one of those appointments we like to call HA! Gotcha! I’m not sick!, and were called in.  I explained Sarah’s symptoms to the Nurse, told her that maybe Katie needed a talking to from the doctor about the importance of school and told the girls we would be out of there in no time.

The doctor did seem perplexed by my daughter’s symptoms, even scratched his head a little and wondered what tests to take, and finally settled on a strep test – because it is going around – and a blood test for anemia {we have had that issue before}.

Lo and behold, her Strep test came back positive.

And the doctor says, “You other two need to be tested.  But I am booked for appointments today so I need to send you to another doctor.”

Great.

We were rushed over to another doctor in the same practice and waited for them to come in, take vitals and start the whole process over again on Katie.  They had decided to waive testing Megan since she had no symptoms.

Huh?

Sure enough, after I’d already predicted it when the yellow gunk swab came out of my five year old’s screaming throat, Katie had Strep. And they decide to test Megan.

Really now.

So, more scurrying around as they pull her chart, get her vitals, stick the swabs down her throat, try to scream over her crying that they will try to rush the results, and leave me, once again, with three little girls who are all done being nice at the doctor’s office.

When one of the nurses comes in to check one more thing for Megan, I say, “Wouldn’t it have been nice if I had booked them all at once?” and chuckle.

Straight faced, I get, “That would have been very helpful.”

Gulp.

So almost 2 and a half hours later, one child screaming because she got a shot in her leg, another screaming that her finger prick hurts and a third screaming because she refuses to be left out, I left the doctor’s office feeling like the worst parent ever.  All three of my kids were sick and I brushed it off.  My mommy-dar failed.  It left me flat on face, in gravel, for all to see.

Today, Strep Throat made me feel like a bad parent.

Find more Motherhood Posts at My Recent Writings

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Early today I wrote a post about stories I had heard about that touched me.  One of the stories is about a little girl named Makayla who is a student in my daughter’s preschool.  We have seen her in the hall and at school events.  I don’t have a lot I can really do to help these families except my social media connections.  There will be several fund raisers in Makayla’s honor coming soon.  One is up now!

If you live in Houston/ Cypress/ Tomball or any surrounding area, please take a moment to visit Cookin’ with Kim who is Cooking Lasagna’s for Makayla.  There will be a fundraiser on APRIL 28, 2012 where Kim will donate $10 of each $30 lasagna directly to Makayla’s family.  You can even buy one and donate it to the family. OR simply visit Makayla’s Miracle Makers Facebook page and donate directly.

If you have a blog, please share this.  If you have a Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Stumble or any other page, please share, tweet, pin, stumble… do anything you can.

Anything at all would be greatly appreciated!  And lots and lots of prayers….

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The last few weeks have been collectively insane for me.  I am behind on everything, struggling with my household chores and trying to keep my head from spinning off.  I have been hard on myself.  Scolding internally the woman who can not seem to get back on track and get things done.  Whether it be reviews for the blog or toilets that needed cleaning last week, I have taken my lack of progress as a personal failure.

But in the midst of the chaos I have been put in my place more than once.  I don’t know if this is God’s way of telling me to wake up and see what is really important or just chance luck that I heard about all of these things during a time when I needed to be reminded of the appreciation I should have every day.

The first event that happened that shook me, literally, to the core was the birth of my dear friend’s grandson.  Expecting a healthy baby boy that ultrasounds confirmed, he was born with no left eye and a facial deformity on his nose.  No one knows why.  No one understands.  His parents, Megan and Christopher were truly stunned!  As was grandma and her friend.

It made no sense to me, in this day and age of knowing everything about babies when born, that this was not at least hinted at in the tests.  But he is healthy and gorgeous.  However, it is going to be a long, expensive road to help him get that left eye and fix the issues with his face.  So, generous friends have set up a Scentsy Fundraiser to help the family.  And watching everyone’s generosity and the love these parents have for their amazing little baby boy makes me feel a little selfish.

Because here I am upset about the pile of laundry my husband left me to fold.

Another story that captivated me was at the tail end of an amazing trip with Disneynature to the Red Carpet Premier of Chimpanzee.  I’d met amazing bloggers, had once in a lifetime experiences and was headed home to a beautiful family.  Yet, I was already feeling overwhelmed with what was awaiting me on my desk at home.

One of the bloggers, Jaime with JamiesPreciousPeas.com, offered to drop me at the airport on her way home in Florida, thus saving me an outrageous cab fare.  As we drove I learned that my impression of her – the she was a quick to laugh, warm hearted, truly appreciative woman – was sealed.  I wished at the time that I had been able to spend more time with her on our busy trip.

And then I asked her about her kids.  She has two daughters and a son who passed at 24 months from cancer…  less than six months after his diagnosis.  Through – very understandable – tears she told me how she was using his life to impact other children and families and has started the organization, ParkersPals.org.  Basically, she is, in the name and honor of her son, making sure that families of the youngest fighters of terminal illnesses get their dreams met.  Some organizations have age limits on the children they will help; no child under 3, for example.  She wants to make sure that no matter the age of the child, the whole family gets some joy and lifelong memories with their precious baby.

By the time she was done telling her story and impressing me with her resolve and dedication, I was in tears.  I did not let her see them – her emotional journey is her own in my opinion – but I was deeply moved and appreciative of people like her who take a real tragedy and turn it into someone else’s hope.  If only all of us had her heart.

And here I was worried about what came in the mail in my absence. 

And then there was the horrible story that came across my news screen a few days later.  That a mom of a 3 day old little boy was gunned down in her pediatrician’s parking lot after taking her baby for a check up.  Hanging, with 7 bullet holes in her, from the window of the car that the woman who shot her and kidnapped her son drove, screaming, “My baby, My baby!”, she did not give up trying to save her baby. The final insult of being rolled over took her from her three kids and angered me to the point of tears.  When they found the baby boy a few hours later, tears were flowing again.

The thoughts of what this woman went through, three days after having her third child, knowing her one and three year old waited at home for her, as she lay dying on the concrete watching a random person speed away with her son humbles me and my complaints about anything.

 And here I was worried about when I would clean the shower.

And finally, after digesting all of this, I find out that a little girl in my daughter’s preschool was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor just weeks ago.  You can read and follow Makayla’s battle and donate to her family on their Facebook page.  My Sarah told me of making a picture of a puppy dog for Makayla and her teacher’s sending it to her.  She says she is at the doctor and they pray for her a lot.  As my 4 year old discusses her friend – who is in Ms. Cheryl’s class, she says – in a childlike tone with obvious concern and confusion in her voice, I can only imagine what Makayla’s family is feeling right now.  And I drop to my knees and pray hard for Makayla.

And here I was worried about when I would be able to hire help so that I would not be so overwhelmed with my kids this summer.

It’s funny.  We all have our battles and they are all valid.  And all of our stresses are real and our experiences and abilities to handle them unique.  But when it comes down to it, the truth is that no matter how bad I feel about not living up to expectations or not being able to handle even the smallest tasks in my life, someone out there is handling something huge and meaningful and doing it with grace.    And so maybe I can learn and know that the little things really don’t matter.

And when I start to think that they do, I can open my ears and know that hearing others stories helps me appreciate what is important.

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Ten years ago I moved into my first house and met an inspirational, amazing woman who is a dear friend still today.  Her name is Donna and she has a son named Chris.  I watched him grow into a truly remarkable young man.  He met and married his wife and on April 8, 2012, they were blessed with a beautiful baby boy named Grayson.  To their surprise, Grayson has some facial deformities that were not detected prior to his birth.  Because of a missing left eye and other issues, Grayson will be subject to very expensive surgeries.  In an attempt to help this truly special family, a Scentsy Fundraiser has been set up!  Look below to see the details and how you can get some products that you would buy anyway but help a very deserving little boy as well!  Thank you for your consideration and any donations!

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Sometimes I forget that my husband is a dad too and that he loves his kids and wants the best for them just as much as I do.  I don’t mentally forget, exactly, but more just think “I can do it better” when it comes to the kids, I think.

I am home with them all day and just think I know them better and can make better decisions for them than he can since he is at work all day.  And long days – 12 – 14 hour days.

But this week I was put in my place and firmly.

As you may know, I left Wednesday and was gone through this Sunday for the Chimpanzee World Premier.  Since we don’t have outside help, my husband took three days off of work.  No small feat for him in his busy season. I can only imagine the steam coming off of his cell phone this week!

A week before I left I found out about two school events for my children and realized that there were two birthday parties for the kids on that Saturday.  Not only did I feel incredible mommy guilt for missing the events but I felt like he would have to miss at least one of the parties.  As all parents know, birthday parties are a blast but can be quite exhausting for the parents!

And even though he said before I left that he would take them to both, I felt like only I could handle that and he would be too tired, stressed out and exhausted to handle it.

Boy did he prove me wrong!

Not only did he dress my girls beautifully for the school events, he took photos and sent them to me, handled three daughters and their constant trips to the bathroom effectively and did it with a smile on his face!  In addition, he shopped for two birthday parties, got them there on time, took photos of them there, chatted among the adults – as opposed to standing in the kitchen and banging his head on the wall over and over again like I thought he might – and actually seemed to have a really good time with our girls!

To top it off, he got together with 2 sets of neighbors and their kids and let them play and have a good time!

In other words… he did exactly what I would do and he possibly did it better!

So I raise my hand, admit my guilt in forgetting that he is a GREAT dad all the time, even if he is not here because of work, and send out my heartfelt love and thanks to him for taking such amazing care of our kids!  Because if I did not have him I would not be able to do what I do.  And that says a lot.

And thank him for reminding me that, in truth, a Daddy’s Work is Never Done!

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A few weeks ago I wrote a post where the goal was to debunk the myths of the stay at home mom.  You know, that we sit in the couch and eat bon bon’s all day!  While most of the feedback was pretty positive it bothered me that moms who work outside of the home were upset that stay at home moms complain that they have it so hard.  While I never said I had it any harder than anyone else, their comments got me thinking.  Especially after a Facebook thread where moms of all kinds went after each other on the merits of the working mom and the stay at home mom.

Since the post I have given the name “Mom” a lot of thought.  And since I have been a working out of the home mom, a stay at home mom and a working in the home mom, I thought I would get a few things straight, from my perspective, of course.

Image from Royalty Free dreamstime.com

My oldest daughter was in childcare until she was 13 months old.  I dropped her off at 3 months old, cried all the way to work and back for months and struggled to find a way to make it all work.  Emotionally, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do.  Handing my crying baby, my happy baby, my poopy baby… MY baby off to someone else to take care of from 7am to 6pm was excruciating.  But in no way, ever, did I feel like I was dropping off my beautiful baby daughter whom I had carried for 9 months, stayed up nights with, nursed and loved to the depth of my soul, for someone else to raise!

As a working mom, it drove me absolutely mad when people said that. “Someone else raises your child.”

No.  They don’t.  Does someone else spend the bulk of the 5 day week with her, yes.  Do they cloth her, feed her, change her, love her, rock her, console her and teach her right from wrong?  Yes.  But they were also following the parameters I had set in the beginning and modified as she grew.  She cared for my child.  She loved my child.  But she was MY CHILD and it was solely up to me to make the decisions that affected her life.  So, no… no one else raised my child just because she was in child care.

Nor did my responsibilities at home stop just because I worked out of the home.  I still had to make dinner, do the dishes, do the laundry, be up nights with my child and tend to everything else to help the household run smoothly.  I did have help from my husband and that was nice.  But it all still had to be done!  So my job did not stop when I got home as many would have had me think at the time.

When I started staying home, a blessing that fell from the sky, to be honest, I did think I was on easy street.  I’ll admit it.  I no longer had to get up and get dressed and get my kids to child care and sit in traffic.  I did not have to deal with the people I did not like at work and I did not have to count the days until the next holiday just so I could have that extra time with my child.

And it was nice.

For a few months.

And then I was home with a 14 month old and a newborn.  My husband was working 12 hour days for the luxury of my staying home, my mother lived hours away and my mother in law liked to travel.  I was alone with two kids, two dogs, little money to do things since we lost an income and… honestly, lonely.  I was busy and the days went fast but the conversation consisted of goo goo ga ga and ‘do you have poop again?’

I missed the lunches with my work friends, the afternoon trip to the snack shop, the ability to pick up the phone and chat with someone uninterrupted.  I had new friends, and I cherished them and still have them today, but they were busy raising their young families as well.  I missed make up, ironed clothes and my husband’s help.  Because he was on the side of thinking that I did not need help with anything because I was home all day and had time to get things done.

As I got used to the routine, made more friends who stayed at home and had another daughter, the challenges changed.  I found myself suddenly defending staying home, telling people more and more that I was a stockbroker in my former life so that I, personally, had some validity to them.  Because being a stay at home mom, as wonderful as it was, had stolen my identity, my pride in my intelligence and my ego.

I felt that if I told people being home with three young children was hard, their eye rolls and smirks showed that I was selfish, ungrateful and unimportant.

In the last few years, I have become a work from home mom.  This blog is time consuming, demanding and important to me.  But now, I am getting comments that I spend too much time on it, have traded it for my children’s childhood and that if I have time to post something, I have time to clean a toilet, do some laundry or some other task that stay at home moms are universally responsible for.

Any way you slice it, motherhood itself, in its demands and responsibilities, is just hard.  And we all deal with the comments.  And, sadly, I find the harshest critics and most outspoken about how a mom lives to be other moms.  It makes me sad.

We need to form a united front and make motherhood a bonding experience and not a reason to tear one another apart.  The issue of who has it harder should be obsolete.  Working, non working, married, single, rich, poor, one child, ten kids, birth children or adopted.  The stories can change but the support needs to remain the same.  The ultimate respect of being a mother trumping all myths and unintelligible comments. Especially between one another.

We are mothers.  And no matter how you categorize us, we will always be mothers.  And we should form a united front.  No matter what anyone else says.

Find more Motherhood Posts at My Recent Writings

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Yesterday I went to a birthday party for a little girl.  Her mom is 8 1/2 months pregnant and happily snapping photos while the dad videoed everything and made sure the mom did not have to do much of anything.

I watched my kids play and eavesdropped on several conversations…  it’s what I do.  There was the typical, “When I had my baby.” story circle, the, “Oh he is so out of control!” complaints and the “What we did/ are doing for Spring Break.” conversations.  It was all very pleasant and nice.

But as I was walking my girls out to the car, I overheard a few of the moms sarcastically saying, “Yes, that is all I do honey!  I sit on the couch and eat bon bon’s all day!”

Image borrowed from Facebook Share. Original Author unknown.

As I drove home, the chatter in the back seat focused on the goody bags and not on questioning me, I started to think about the value of stay at home moms today and the stereotypes that come with being one.

I think there is a blanket misconception of what we do during the day and how it adds an irreplaceable value to our children’s lives, our spouses lives and to our lives.  I, myself, have had to answer the listed questions of what I did and why I did this and why I didn’t do this more than once.  And not all of it is from my spouse, believe it or not.  I find that I have to justify staying home with my kids more than I ever – EVER – imagined I would.

And it is no wonder.  I would have to say that, at least from things that I have seen, society and the media are quick to devalue our rolls.  In satire, in seriousness, from lack of experience and more.  I have heard news reports basically say that if moms would get off the Internet, their kids would be better taken care of!

As if we all get up in the morning and ‘play on the computer’ all day while our kids run around in dirty diapers, hungry and with no imagination play.  I, for one, understand the confusion.  We do seem to be on here a lot.  But please note…  we have smart phones that can post to our multimedia instantly – we don’t even have to sit.  We have iPads, Kindles, tablets and more that keep us connected in, what truly can be, a very lonely job to have at times.  Bloggers have the ability to schedule posts throughout the day, schedule messages on social networking and more.

Is there anyone that really thinks that our kids are going to let us sit on the computer all day, every day?  My kids follow my every move and I am lucky if I can get 30 minutes with all of them busy long enough to post anything substantial!   I work at night after everyone is in  bed.  It is my “me time” these days.

I love the comedians that talk about stay at home moms.  Especially the male comedians.  I heard one the other day complaining that his wife, a stay at home mom, could not even bend down to pick up his pants off the floor. “What is so hard about picking up my pants?  You bend down… you pick them up!  How hard is that?”

My answer to him would be, “Well, you can’t seem to do it so…”

Didn’t he have a mother?  Who probably picked up his pants?  Would he joke about her this way or is it only the woman who brought his children into the world that he sees fit to mock?  Funny?  Probably.  Feeding into the downgrading of the importance of the job – even a little? – absolutely.

And then there are the generational pressures.  The women who came before us – our mothers – who never had a dirty house, a load of laundry that was not folded and put away, a sock that did not have it’s match. The ones that walk into our houses and immediately start inspecting, without probably even meaning to.  I don’t know how they did it, I’ll be honest.  I know they had to be just as busy as we are and under just as much pressure to be as perfect as we can be.  I want to be that kind of mom, I do.  But I have failed more often than I have succeeded and when I ask for advice, I get. “Well your just to busy with other things to worry about it.”

Huh?

I suppose, in the end, that the stereotypes will change as motherhood changes.  And the girls we are raising now will come back and ask us how we did it.  And there will always be studies and news reports telling us how what we are doing is so wrong based on information that is also, so wrong.  And the jokes will change but the punchlines stay the same.

As for me, I will go on, working and striving to be the best mother I can.  The best person to set an example for my children.  The most honest one that shows them trust.  The teacher of the importance of being taught.  The arms that make it all better.  The believer that they are my gifts from God.  The sturdy back that holds them when they fall.  The reason that they believe in themselves.  The support that gives them confidence.  The cheerleader that never misses a game.  Their everything. Their Mother.

And everyone else can just keep thinking that today, I sat on the couch and ate Bon Bon’s. 

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Like many moms I know, I tend to put myself last.  In fact, the last time I had my hair cut was over a year ago and the last time I even did anything – like cover than ever present, pesky, gray – was six months ago when my nephew colored it in my living room.  Other than that, I have taken my kids about every few months and my husband has had his hair cut every three weeks.

But tonight I did the unthinkable.  I left the kids and instructions on how to make dinner and headed to the hair salon.  It was freeing and a little scary, but, seriously, something had to be done about THIS:

After an hour of prep work, half an hour of sitting so the highlights and lowlights could take, a 10 minute blow dry and style, I promised myself I would never let myself go that long without a hair cut again!

And here are the results:

Much better, right?  No more wooley mammoth jokes?  No more pulling it up in a ponytail because I just was too depressed to see how far I’d let it go!  No more neglecting myself and my appearance just because my husband can not find the flour to make dinner.  It was right in front of him.  Yes, he called and asked.

Now, this will be me tomorrow at about 9am on the first day of Easter break with all three girls home:

But for right now, I don’t look half bad!  And I really, REALLY like that!  Because, for once, I took care of me.  And that is the best Mom move I could have made today!

Oh, and I even bought more lipstick.  I’ll let you know if it perishes the same way the last one did!

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I just have to share because it makes me laugh!

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I think there are few things I like less than the onslaught of unadulterated Mommy Guilt.  And there seems to be no lack of material to feel some sort of guilt over.

Like when I send them to school and notice as they are getting out of the car that there is a stain on their shirt or a hole in their knee.  Or that their hair needed cutting three weeks ago.  Or when there is a school project due and I don’t read the instructions completely and they are the only ones scrambling to get it done the morning it is due.

Yes, there are many, MANY, many things we moms can feel guilty for.

But I am experiencing a new guilt level that I thought would not be possible once I stopped traveling for work and started staying home full time.  Missing my children’s school events.

As you may know, I have been privy to some pretty fantastic trips as a blogger.  They are work trips – do not be fooled – but there are fun elements tied in that make them just plain awesome too!  Before I accept a trip, I check my family calendar.  Which you’d think I kept to the very minute.

I don’t.

I try to make sure that if I have to miss something for an event it will not be major.  In fact, I missed a cheer performance for my two oldest girls last year but reasoned that they had another in a month and would not really care.  I was right and I think they actually had more fun showing me the video and reenacting the performance in the living room than they cared that I actually missed it.

Mommy guilt averted once I got home and saw that they were not really phased by it.

But in a week, I leave for Orlando for another once in a lifetime adventure with Disneynature Films and the Premier of Chimpanzee.  Before I accepted, I checked my calendars.  There were no school events listed at all over that weekend.  I accepted and have been walking on air ever since.

Until an email today weighted me through my cloud and slammed me flat footed back to Earth.

I am going to miss my middle daughter’s preschool Spring Sing.  Why?  I can pretend to blame it on the preschool – which initially it looked like I could – but the honest truth is it is because Mommy wrote that the Spring Sing was one week later on the family calendar.  Despite many, MANY notices that it was coming, much talk about how hard she is working and more, I wrote it on the wrong week.

To be brutally honest, I probably would have taken the trip anyway.  It is an amazing opportunity and this is not her last preschool concert.  But at least I would have been prepared, I suppose, and just dealing with the guilt of being selfish.  And I could have been preparing her.  Now, not only do I have to tell them I am going on a trip, but now I have to tell her I am missing her concert too.

Oh the mommy guilt… piled on like a stack of old quilts.  Heavy and unforgiving in their persistent weight.

I guess it is a good thing I will be at Disney World.  The tangible evidence of my guilt will have more impact when I hand it to her the day I get back!

But I’ll still lose sleep, give her extra hugs and let the tears fall.  Once in a lifetime or not, I will be missing her school function.  And that is a mommy guilt I don’t like having to deal with.

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