The Fordhouse Courthouse

So my gas light came on the other day. Said 50 miles or something til empty. Blew it off. You can do a lot in 50 miles right?! I have time, I told myself. Go about my day. Come home for the evening. Next day is here and I have a doctor's appointment at 1. The baby slept until 10am so that was fabulous. So we had a lazy morning, one which included a bath for her. Fast forward to what should be the end of said bath and she refuses to get out of the tub despite us needing to leave the house by 12:30. 12:37 comes and she's finally dressed albeit with not thoroughly brushed hair and no socks with her tennis shoes because I don't have time to argue with a two year old about socks. Drop her off with a friend so I could make my anatomy scan at 1. My obstetrician had changed locations since my last visit. I know this bc I got a voicemail the other day telling me the location of their new office. I can't find the street on any map app I have nor on the GPS in my car. But the voicemail says "behind the Courthouse" amongst other details as to where exactly they are. Perfect. I know where the courthouse is. 

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Despite running late I make it to the courthouse by 1:01. No biggie. One minute isn't going to hurt anyone. But wait, I can't find the OB's office. And I'm behind the courthouse. Call the office. No answer. Drive around. Don't see the street name I'm given. Keep driving in that general vacinity whilst continuing to ring the OB's office. Finally someone answers. 1:07. I tell her I'm lost and I'm behind the courthouse. Courthouse? 

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She's confused. Yeah, in the message it says y'all are located behind the courthouse. No, she tells me. They are behind the FORD HOUSE! WTF is a ford house, you ask? I pondered the same - answer? The local ford dealership. Who calls it a ford house? Whatever. I ask if it's by the courthouse. No, she says. Fantastic. It's 1:10. I get the proper address to the godforsaken ford house and haul ass. Within legal speed limits of course because I'm no monster. A few miles down the road I'm feeling hopeful, my car tells me I'm two minutes from my destination. It then also immediately tells me I'm zero miles until empty. Zero. 

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Has your car even said zero miles? Heart. Attack. And it only chimed this cute little single chime before my dashboard lit up with the words zero miles to empty. My mind did what the car should've done. FUCKING SIRENS. 

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Yeah. Sirens went off in my mind and my body temp immediately roses 26 degrees and I'm frantically searching for a gas station. I see one. It's on the next exit. I get off the highway and it's a fucking smoke and save or some shit where they turned an old gas station into a "grab your smokes and liquor" joint (do ppl still say joint?). So I saw gas pumps but that shit hasn't works since god knows when. 

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I let out some profanities and keep driving. 

Finally coming across a proper gas station. The light right before the station is green but I envision it turning red and me running out of gas and standing on the side of the road pregnant, hot, and crying because I want my husband whom is probably flying (therefore unreachable) with my luck. The light stays green, proof that Jesus loves us, and I pull into the gas station. I pump 20 seconds worth of gas which I've learned buys you 54 more miles according to my car when I got back in. Drove my two more miles to the OB office. Pull in the lot and see the dealership next door. I mumble something like "fucking ford house"... 

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...because its totally the Ford House's fault that I can't get my kid out of the tub in a timely manner and have gas in the car. 

I hobble-run inside and tell the ladies at the desk a very condesed version of the last 20 minutes. Which went something like this. "I thought y'all said the courthouse". Laughter amongst us all. 

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Then they tell me how "an older woman" made the same mistake. Great. Now I have the hearing of "an older woman". It's 1:19. I'm still seen. Anatomy scan done. Baby boy healthy. Drove home less heart-attacky. Hate the fordhouse. Fin. 

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Favorite Finds

Happy Freaking Friday! This week started out great and then on Wednesday I woke with an itchy throat and a pounding headache and I was like: Nope, don't have time to be sick. And I had just been feeling grateful that our house has managed to escape this bug that I see has been going around. So I spent Wednesday taking it easy, like waaaaay easy, like I fed my children and played taxi to after school activities and that's about where my productivity ended. I drank loads of water, took my vitamins, pounded shots of raw apple cider vinegar (I swear by this stuff, I have my kids take a couple tablespoons of it and they rarely get ill), and diffused some thieves. And today I feel 95% better. Luckily the kids haven't showed signs of falling ill and hopefully it stays that way.

Anyway, on to my favorite finds of the week!

This Braised Red Wine Short Ribs recipe is heavenly! Seriously one of the best dishes I've ever made. We celebrated Valentine's Day in our house on the 15th since Seth was night flying and Ari had gym until 8, so none of us got home until at least 9pm on the 14th. But the next day we gave the kids their gifts and I made a fancy-shmancy dinner and this was on the menu. It was sooooo good, guys. And it was pretty simple too. Try it out!

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Photo: Martha Stewart

This cross-stitch family portrait is really speaking to me. Call me a nerd but I've totally bought the supplies and I plan to make one of our family when I finish my other 73 projects I've going on at the moment. I think its unique and quirky and would fit right into my decorating style.

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With Avery's birthday around the corner I've been on the hunt for a shirt for her. Last year when she turned one I had my sister-in-law make her a shirt that said "Wild one". Get it? So I've been trying to find a phrase for her "two year" shirt. I came across this one that would be adorable for a third birthday.

Photo: Etsy

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These Nikes are EVERYTHING! But I can't find them anywhere, so I guess technically this isn't a "find" but if ya'll know where I can get these holla atcha girl! I tossed my old Nikes with the thought that it'd force me to replace them quicker since I've been needing a new pair for months. And my poor foot already needs surgery for the THIRD time so I figured I'd stop putting it into shoes that needed replaced. Le sigh.

Source unknown

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These blackberry lemonade margaritas are delish. And with the weather in my neck of the woods being absolutely beautiful, this weekend would be the perfect time to make a pitcher and sit out on the deck while grilling burgers. mmmmmm burgers. 

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You deserve it! xx

Baby, Baby

Drinking tea and watching the pup stare at the rain falling on the windows while the babe naps. And as I sit here going through photos to fill some empty frames in her room I can't help but get all sappy while reminiscing on my pregnancy with her. And then I think about having another one and I feel like a first-time mom all over again in that I find myself putting it off because I'm terrified I can't love another the way I love her and the big kids. I know it's silly, and I know the love will be there but I still find myself having that thought. Which is weird because I had that same worry when pregnant with my second but each pregnancy after that it never once was a worry of mine. And now, here the hubby and I are talking about when would be a good time to add one last baby to complete our family and I have all these first-time mom feelings despite being a seasoned parent. I guess I just can't imagine dividing my attention even further, just not at the age Av is currently at. 

Having such a big age gap between her and the big kids has proven more beneficial than not. And one of the huge benefits is me having learned from the past. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change a thing because I'm a firm believer that every single thing/choice/experience brings you to where you currently are, and I'm currently in the best place I've ever been in life. But what I mean to say is through the big kids I've learned just how fleeting the years really are.  And everyone will tell you this; your parents, your co-workers, the older gentleman in the grocery check-out line and we all eventually learn it's so incredibly true. 

So I strive to appreciate and soak in as much of these kids as I can before they're packing their bags and heading off to university, which for E is in less than two years. And with Avery I just can't imagine having a newborn while she's still so young herself. 

This morning Avery slept until 8, I went to get her from her room after hearing her quietly say "Mom? Mom?" through the monitor. The house was quiet other than the light tapping of the rain on the windows because the morning hustle of backpacks, lunch boxes, breakfast, coffee, and school bus had came and went while she was still fast asleep up in her room. When she woke, I scooped her up and brought her into our bed and she nursed like she always does first thing when she wakes. She laid there between me and her daddy and she played with his hair and paused from nursing every minute or so to softly kiss Seth on his forehead. It's moments like that I don't want to miss due to running on four hours of sleep and in the other room soothing a newborn. Later in the morning, when we pulled ourselves out of bed she hurt her foot doing one of her typical daredevil moves and she immediately ran to me to be consoled (which for her is to nurse). So I dropped what I was doing and nursed her until she slid off my lap to go back to being mischievous. I couldn't imagine telling her to wait while i tended to a baby. 

I mean, I know it's silly. Whether a baby comes this year or five years from now I'll still have to deal with similar situations. But I just don't feel that desire right now. And you know what? That's okay.

All this to say, right when you think you have things figured out, life shows you that you have no idea! If you would've asked me a year ago I would've told you I wanted Av and our future babe to be as close in age as possible. And now I'm like, "we don't need to worry about a risk of twins until I'm over 35, right?!" 

Happy Thursday, friends. Go kiss your kiddos. Xx

He's a Little Bit Country, I'm a Little Bit Rock-N-Roll

The Sugar Daddy and I have been ball-and-chained for almost eight years.

Count 'em. 

EIGHT! 

Some days it feels like we've been together for two decades and other days it seems like we just met; not sure what that means but feel free to psychoanalyse. 

I was recently talking to a girlfriend of mine that just realized Seth and I eloped four seconds after meeting each other and she was blown away, saying she would've never guessed we jumped into marriage so fast. But as corny as it sounds I like to say, "when you know, you know." And we knew. Quick.

Here's the thing, he really is my best friend. And not only do I love him and am in love with him, but I like him too. That might sound silly but ya'll, I know so many couples that don't seem to truly be friends as well as lovers and its amazing the difference you can see in their relationships.

I know eight years isn't a 53 but I can tell you this...

You can't stop doing what you did before you were married. The easiest way I know how to explain it simply is this: I call Seth my boyfriend. It became a joke in our family after a while because when Owen was about three years old he heard me refer to Seth as my boyfriend and he said, "Mommy! I thought you and Daddy were married!" Oh my sweet boy, we are. But I treat him like my boyfriend; I strive not to become complacent. I strive not to take him for granted. You have to keep that spark there. You can't let it die out. 

We're opposites but we're alike. 

Seth is organised. A perfectionist. Schedule-oriented. A rule follower. Neat. Orderly. Likes predictability. Realist. Analytic.

I'm so disorganised. Perfect is not worth my trouble. I couldn't stay on schedule if I was paid for the most part. I don't bother learning the rules unless its to make a point to break a few. Chaotic. Like certain things orderly...sometimes. Change does me good. Dreamer. Creative.

We're both homebodies. Have a dry sense of humor. Curse like sailors. Are open-minded. Aren't easily offended. Don't sweat the little things. And have similar dreams and goals for our family. 

It helps. It does. And man have we grown together. We use each other's strengths rather than fighting about them. He's good with money and it bores me to tears so he deals with it. I think I check our account like twice a year and it's usually because I'm trying to find proof I paid for something because I need to return something and I've not surprisingly lost my receipt.  

I'm good with Mary Poppins type shit, so Seth doesn't know things like where detergent goes in the washer. Nor does he know where anything in the kitchen is located. We have very tradition roles in a very not traditional house. He takes care of the outside. I take care of the inside. He makes the money. I make the babies. It's a win-win, folks. It's how we like it and what our personalities drift toward. We make each other better. 

If I married someone like me we'd be starving artists. Living on our deep passionate love for each other and a prayer to a God we weren't sure (but secretly hoped) existed. Our kids would have names like Tulip and River and our mothers would ask us constantly for updates as we'd always be planning our next adventure. 

If Seth married someone just like him they'd be a career-oriented power couple with 2.5 kids name Catherine Elizabeth and Michael Robert David whom they put in daycare the second maternity leave was up. The paperwork to their investments would be filed neatly in their home office and their mothers would call once a month. On the 3rd. At 12:30. Simply to say Hi because they'd already know what they were up to otherwise because, well, they had a plan and they'd stick to it. 

See? My life would be chaos. Seth's, mundane. We need each other. I give him the right amount of wild and he gives me the right about of responsibity. 

One day, years ago, after dragging him to do something he initially only did because I insisted, we were laying in bed that evening and he was saying how much of a good time he had. It made me smile. "What would you do without me?" I asked him teasingly. 

"My life would be very boring." he said. 

And without him, mine would be a mess.
Here's to many more years of yinging and yanging in the most perfect of amounts. And here's to choosing each other every. single. day.

Xx, Lor

Life Lately

Avery is in a sleep regression. Meaning she is napping terribly. It takes her so long to go to sleep that when she finally does pass out I need to be waking her up if u want her in bed at a decent time. It's annoying and makes me wanna pound mimosas double-fisted with brunch each day. The nap struggles are all too real. 

We practically live at the pool this summer. Like, my nose and cheeks are covered in (even more) freckles now and I've had to start wearing a longsleeve rash guard because I'd get this God-awful heat rash on the bend of my arms. Now I sport a hat for my face too and when I mentioned that I didn't like the sun on my neck Ariana suggested I find a water-proof scarf. Straight-faced. Smart ass. Then I told her I may as well purchase a full-on body suit of some sort so naturally she suggested a wetsuit. It should ship in 5-7 days. Kidding. Or am I? 

I'm like 90% done getting the house setup. I mean, Ill probably keep tweaking things up until the moment we move again because that's just me but at least the big things are done and it feels like home. Our washing machine (which we haven't used in three years because we stored it when we moved to England) squeaks like an SOB and as much as a new one would be nice I'm like, it works. Plus, I'd rather spend my money on things like champagne and wetsuits. Just call me Champage Mami. No, don't do that. That'd be awkward. 

A member of my brood wants to be homeschooled this year and I'm like dude, I barely passed pre-Algebra in high school, I don't think that'd be legal. But it is. Oh it is. So now I'm trying to find a curriculum that looks ideal and I'm thinking of having my Bachelor's degree dipped in 14Kt gold just to give me a little confidence boost. I'm telling y'all, Champagne Mami. 

Some ladies invited me to a book club and I was like sign me up!!! But then I learned a little more about this book club...it was, in fact, a book club and I was beyond disappointed. Like, where's the $14 cheese and bottles and bottles of wine, bitches? In the past, 'book club' was code for we get to drink in a house rid of our spouses and children. Don't get me wrong, I love to read but reading only happens when I get to take a peaceful bath...also known as never. 

Welp, my non-napping baby is awake from not taking a nap so I'll be on my way. Hope this quick little update finds you well.

Xx,

Lor

Life Lately

With our time here in Europe coming to a close it made me stop and think about the chapter ahead. An international move on the horizon for starters along with a slew of other exciting and life changing aspirations 

And it also made me reflect on this past year as well as our years here living abroad. And oh man, it has been one wild, fun, crazy, unpredictable ride. 

For starters, it's the longest Seth and I have ever loved under one roof together consecutively. 

Can you believe that? 

We've been married seven years and this tour overseas was our constant. 

And as funny as it sounds, I think us being stationed apart so much helped us grow to be the strong couple we are today. We spent so much time separated due to us both being in the Air Force and never stationed together until our joint assignment to England that when we were together we cherished it. Because we knew in a few days he'd go back to his house and me to mine.

England meant we were a family under one roof.

It also meant an insane work schedule for both of us. 

Long, 

long, 

long

hours. 

Which meant our kids didn't get a lot of time with us. 

This was one of my biggest challenges. I'm not a career woman at heart. I'm just not. 

I don't desire to be some high-powered exec and work 12 hour days. 

What I long for is to be home with my babies. 

I want to be at home covered in play-doh and helping with science reports. 

And I tried my best while working; I chaperoned countless field trips in uniform, I spent lunch breaks volunteering to read to my youngest's class, I made sure to leave work on time to make it to concerts and plays. I scrambled to make it to drop them off at school dances and practice on time. I tried really hard to still do it all but I never felt like I could be the mom I wanted to be while I was working.

In these last (almost) three years here, we confirmed to each other that when life gets tough we have each other's backs, because at the end of the day who do you have if not your spouse? 

No matter what, we were a team. 

And anything negative we each had to deal with only drew us closer to each other and solidified our bond.

We travelled to countries more beautiful than I ever dreamed they'd be. 

We ate the food, attempted to live as the locals do. 

Our children have seen more cultures in these threes years than most people do in a lifetime.

We've learned to slow down. England has a slower pace of living. 

You can't always be connected to the internet and you can't easily shop at midnight. 

You aren't rushed to finish your meal in a restaurant, and Sundays are for relaxing. For everyone.

I worked long hours outside the home juggling mom and wife roles. 

Then we made the huge decision for me to become a stay at home mom. It's important to me to be in the home with and raise my kids when they are not school-aged yet. It's just what feels right for me. 

When I had Ethan I knew I was meant to be a mom. That it was my purpose.  So when Seth and I decided to have a baby, getting out of the Air Force was the next step. 

Then the babe came along and we fell in love.

We made life plans and they changed. And we were okay with that because if there's one thing I've learned so far in life it's that you just gotta roll with what comes your way.

And I look back on how much our life has changed since getting here. 

I have a high chair and baby toys littering my kitchen floor. 

I no longer have combat boots in my daily wardrobe. 

I turned my hobbies into a business and I get to do it while raising my babies.

We came to England so differently than the way we are leaving. 

England helped bring us to where we are today. 

And it's not where I imagined I'd be, it's even better.  

England was a lot of things to me, if you know me well you know that to be true. 

But mostly, and perhaps most importantly, England was my saving grace. 

Doing Our Best

Some days I complete and put away countless loads of laundry, crochet a scarf, make my own soap, run four miles, do my nails, and clean the floors thrice (true story). And other days I shove the baby's leftovers from lunch in my mouth as I attempt to unload the dishwasher with the littlest on my hip, deem dinner a "fend for yourself" event, and eventually make it into the shower at midnight just to realise I forgot to use soap whilst in said shower. It happens, folks. 

Avery absolutely hates napping and that greatly diminishes my productivity on days when she protests. Which is most days. And it probably doesn't help the situation that I co-sleep. Which, I don't mind and actually prefer, but during the day I'd like for her to be able to nap in her crib so I can get certain things done or have a few minutes alone.

So I began a little nap routine where we eat brunch, then wash up, then go to her room, and I read her a book, nurse her then put her in her crib. We're good up until the "put her in her crib" part. Girlfriend has none of it. She'll either just start playing or crying. I refuse to let her cry-it-out despite Seth being in the old school "let her cry" camp although he's never done it either (easier said than done, huh babe?). I just can't do it. Everything in me tells me it's wrong (wrong for me, no judgement on others) because it just doesn't feel right. And I guess that's nature's design working, right? We are born to have a certain physical and emotional response to our offspring crying. To react to it. To help them. To soothe them. And even big, tough, Seth questioned me when the other day I put her in her crib and she started to fuss but I needed to pee so I walked into our bathroom and he said, "Don't let her cry!" 

Whoa there big man! I thought you were in the cry it out camp! 

Apparently he talks a good game but when he actually hears her cry he quickly changes his mind. I reassured him that I was simply going pee so she cried for all of 60 seconds. But still. I felt awful.

All this to say, after trying to pat, lull, shh, sing Av to sleep for two and a half hours she finally fell asleep, two feet from her crib, in my arms, while I sat in the chair nursing her. 

And you know, when I was trying to get her to sleep alone I felt so bad for her. I'd pick her up and comfort her each time she fussed then put her back down then she'd fuss so I'd pick her back up and I felt so guilty that I wasn't just nursing her to sleep like I normally do. I imagined she was so confused and just wanted to feel safe and warm and able to nap which for her meant being with me. And when she finally fell asleep in my arms she was finally happy and so was I. I've always had an attachment parenting style but I think maybe because I have one that's almost in college I find myself even more extreme with it nowadays. I just know how fast time goes. I've lived it. I look at my 16 year old and think, "Dude. I just had you like a year ago." But no, in less than two years he'll be off to college. 

So when I don't get to shower until midnight and the laundry is piling up I try my best not to stress about it because I'm never gonna say, "Boy, I wish I would've spent less time with Avery and more time keeping my house spotless." Nope. Instead, one day I'm gonna miss that she's perpetually attached to my hip and wants snuggles all day long. Because one day she too is gonna be 16, and I can't get this time back. 

So to any fellow moms that find themselves in a similar situation, you're not alone. You're doing you're best. Follow your instincts rather than ignoring them. They're there for a reason. And know that you will never regret all this time you are spending with your littles. And for the moms that have no problem letting their littles cry it out, you're not alone either. You, too, are doing your best. And the same way I don't let anyone make me feel bad for parenting the way that feels right in my heart, you shouldn't either. We are all doing what works for us and our families. 

Now I've gotta go - it's nap time, and my baby needs me.

The Good Stuff

This is it. This is the good stuff. The moments where you want to push pause and just soak it all in. So you do. And you let it consume you, right down to your core. You finally and truly understand what's happening here in this busy little world and you know what matters and what's worth taking the time for. You know tomorrow they'll be a little older, a little less...little. So you stare at their sweet smiles, and study their little faces. You kiss them tenderly and hug them good and long. These moments you know you can't get back, so you let it fill you with peace and you do your very best to show them the love that fills your soul. This is all you've ever needed - this...this is it. 

Creepy Chaperones

Owen: *As he reads a sign in the doctor's office* Mama, what is a chaaaap-er-oooone?

Me: It's a person that could come into the room with the doctor if you didn't feel comfortable with only the doctor being in the room. Chaperones can be used for a lot of things - being in the room with a doctor. Or when I come to your classroom to help out that's also called a chaperone. Basically a chaperone watches what is happening and everyone is aware they are there to watch what is going on.

Owen: What's it called when someone watches what is happening but no one knows they are there?

Me: That's called a creeper.

Owen: *Giggles*

Me: Or a voyeur.

Owen: Or a stalker!

Barcelona

The fine folks of Spain drink a lot. Europeans drink a lot. I think I was European in a past life. We took a girls trip to Barcelona in March, or maybe it was April. Hell, it may have been last weekend for all I know. My memory is going. I seriously am convinced I am going to have Alzheimer's at, like, 33.

We arrived around noon on Friday and this is when the drinking began. Sangrias. They're delicious. I've only had them a time or two before but the one time I had them I puked, passed out, and don't remember too much. I do remember my girlfriend getting me home that night and tucking me in bed. While she was getting me in bed I stripped my clothes off and told her how much I loved her for taking such good care of me. I'm a loving drunk. 

Ever since that night I hadn't touched sangria but I decided to try it again because I'm certain it wasn't the sangria that did me in, it was the loads of liquor that followed. And the food. I don't eat when I drink or I feel sick but my girlfriend practically force fed me. I digress. Sangrias happened in Barcelona.

And that was the beginning of the end. 

Seriously, by nightfall I was in a club with Mario and Luigi taking photos and dancing. Please note that I do not know these two. I am just friendly and could talk to a brick wall if it came down to it. And I'm even more friendly when drinking. Plus it was Carnival and when I finally figured that out I inquired what exactly it meant. 

An hour after I stumbled into my hotel room my girlfriend I shared a room with was waking me up to go to our cooking class we signed up for. Why the fuck do clubs in Barcelona stay open until 5? So I went, donning a pair of sunglasses to hide my bloodshot eyes. We had to go shopping for the food and when we got back to the classroom these bitches opened multiple bottles of wine. It wasn't even 9am. 

They let me operate a blow torch thingy, handle large knives, and be within inches of an open flame. I'm not sure what they were thinking. 

Later that afternoon a few of us wondered the streets of Barcelona. 

That night was no different then the one before. It was dinner (tapas) and sangrias. Oh, and we watched some awesome Flamenco dancers while at dinner. Then it was off for more shots and shaking it 'til 5am.

Our hotel was right down the street from the club and as we walked back we came across a sidewalk which mesmerized us. It was all lit up so of course we had to take a photo.

But we were like uh, that's not what we see, what's going on.  Oh yeah, the flash is on. Let's turn it off and try again...

Better.

 The next day was calmer. We were preparing to enter reality again soon. There was more sightseeing.

Since living in Europe, I have found something in each country we have visited and add it to a wall in our front hall. While in Spain I found this small print at the Picasso Museum. I loved it and knew it'd be just the think to add to our wall.

Barcelona was a wild good time. It was nice to spend a weekend with the girls and let the guys take care of the kids and house. A few days after returning from the trip I saw this posted on Facebook. It sums up Barcelona nicely.

You Will Never Be This Loved Again

Today was one of those days were I just wanted to be alone. It started out rough. Every morning in this house is like dinner time in this house - it's busy, and loud, and there are a million things going on at once. It's what we do. And 99.99% of the time its great. I love our loud, rambunctious house. I need our loud, rambunctious house. But yesterday was trying. For the sake of my family's privacy (says the gal that constantly blogs about her family, ironic - right?) I won't go in to details of each instance (or who) that pushed my buttons. Instead, I'll simply say that it wasn't anything significant, or out of the ordinary, or serious. It was normal, every day life that I typically deal with just fine, but yesterday it simply got to me more, essentially my strength felt nonexistent. I wanted to bark out orders, I wanted tell everyone to sit down and hush, I wanted to show how frustrated I was. But constantly reminded myself that those things weren't going to fix anything, in fact, they'd probably make it worse. A few weeks ago I found the following quote, I'm not certain who said it, all it was signed was "AK". It reads:

You will never be this loved again. So on those days you feel stressed out and depleted, just remember that you will never be this loved again. One day you will long for their affection. So choose a soft voice, choose gentle hands, choose love. -AK

It really spoke to me when I initially saw it so I grabbed a piece of paper and jotted it down quickly and tacked it to my dry erase board that is near my computer in our office.

 I see it each time I'm sitting at the computer. And yesterday, when I was having a rough day I told everyone to get their shoes on and while they were doing that I went and sat in my desk chair and I immediately saw the above note I scribbled down a few weeks ago. It almost brought me to tears when I read it because it is so. very. true. So I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I will never get this day back. They will be graduated and gone all too soon and I'll be begging them to come home and visit me from college. I reminded myself that I am one of the few people in the world that is supposed to protect them, and nurture them, and love them, and be patient with them. I reminded myself that I am the adult and I don't get to have a fit in front of them. I reminded myself that I am suppose to make sure they feel safe and loved by me at all times. So I walked out of the office and our morning continued. And my stress had disapated. Nerf gun darts flew by my head. The pup whimpered and moaned. Lunch was forgotten on the counter. And right before we parted ways for the day we teased. We laughed. We hugged. We kissed. We chose love.

Sweet Explosive Safety Belts

Dear Manufacturer of My Vehicle,

Tonight I had an abnormally large amount of time on my hands while I waited for Ariana's bus to arrive from London after a day trip to see a play. That's sweet huh? Middle schoolers from the Drama Club going to London for the day to see a matinee of Wicked. Yeah, it's sweet. Do you know what's not sweet? Mother of one of said middle-schoolers waiting around for their child and therefore having the opportunity to notice every. little. thing. inside their vehicle. Would you like to know what I found?

This sweet terrifying little label on my seat belt. What the fuck in my seat belt contains "AN EXPLOSIVE IGNITER"?

Git it Together,

L

Sam the Terror

Dearest Samantha,

Why do you have to be such an asshole and tear up my favorite wellies (not to mention they cost 40 quid) and then go and plop down all cute and shit so that I can't get mad at you.

Your life is so ruff - you see what I did there?

PS Your bedroom eyes are fierce,

Mum

USPS WTF

*Mother, do not read this post, and if you do, have the holy water close by. 

Dear United States Postal Service,

Go fuck yourself. No, seriously, because then maybe afterward your brain will be clear enough to think and do your job properly. My amazing and wholesome mother sent her grandchildren three boxes two months ago. We received one a few weeks ago - it was intact and included all its original contents; kudo bitches, job well done. We received the second on Monday - it was bent, torn, a corner bashed in, the entire bottom slit open, and the majority of the contents were missing. It was then wrapped in cellophane with this lovely little message attached.

Really?

L

Owen's Field Trip

I went on a field trip with Owen's class to an archeological dig. They discovered items from…I don't remember how long ago. Seriously, this field trip happened like two weeks ago so that bit of info was brain-dumped. Before you judge me let's be honest with ourselves, you forget things too. You may not have quite as bad a memory as me but you forget things. Hell, I forgot a grocery bag containing meat in my car overnight and the next day my car smelled like death, so at least the forgetting of these dates won't result in my children riding to school with the windows down in 50 degree weather whilst grumbling, Mum, I think…I might…pass out from the smell. Mummy, can you remember to take the meat in next time? Mummy, why did the cow have to die in vain because of your inability to recall the fact that you purchased meat for our dinner and instead sat out in the car for 12 hours. Mummy…mummy….mummy... 

So at this archeological site they found items from, let's go with a few hundred years ago, yeah? The class was divided into small groups with each parent overseeing the group containing their own child, which means I always end up with a group of rambunctious boys. My group was exceptionally stubborn this go-round. The instructions were to dig evenly and not make holes. I turn my head for one minute and guess what my boys had done? Dug holes. They were also ecstatic and kept proclaiming they "found something big!" Turned out to be a piece of the concrete from the building next door. Atta boys. 

The only picture I was able to grab was of my baby mid-dig. He stood up, turned around, and cheesed for the camera. His classmate? Well, he took one for the team and unknowingly photobombed the only photo I have from that day with his derrière. Oh the things an eight year old will do for archeology... 

Things that make me go, "Wha?!"

Luckily mine are fabulous, so listen up!

I like to think of myself as pretty laid back. In fact, I've been told that it's both a good and bad trait of mine. Some situations, I suppose, call for a more alert response than what I typically give but I think it's just in my blood not to get too worked up over things. Besides, me getting spun up isn't going to change something that's already happened - right?!

Now let's talk about the few things that get under my skin. 

1. People that claim to be bored. Maybe because when I was younger, maybe elementary school aged, I'd tell my mom I was bored and one day she listed so many things I could be doing, so many things I had, so many adventures I could get in to. Since that day I have never, ever felt or been bored. Maybe the words she spoke to me changed my outlook on it all but when people say they are bored I can't even comment on it. I think Louis C.K. sums it up perfectly when he says,

“I’m bored’ is a useless thing to say. I mean, you live in a great, big, vast world that you’ve seen none percent of. Even the inside of your own mind is endless; it goes on forever, inwardly, do you understand? The fact that you’re alive is amazing, so you don’t get to say ‘I’m bored.”

2. Kids having meltdowns in public because they don't get their way and their parents giving in to what they want. They are that way because of you! You taught them they can do that and it'll help them get what they want, so quit your bitchin', put your big girl or boy panties on, and stick to your guns. The world will thank you in 20 years when they're not bratty, self-entitled adults.

3. Giving everyone a trophy or certificate simply for…existing? This one slays me. I coached cheerleading for 5 and 6 year olds a few years ago and during one of the games I asked the ref what the score was. He quickly informed me that they don't keep score because they don't want the children to be concerned with winning or losing. My response?...What?! Don't get me wrong, I don't agree with the parent that's cursing at the ref for making a bad call at a little league game. But I feel like this whole, 'we don't keep score' thing is on the other end of the extreme. Let's stick to a nice middle ground. Have fun. Keep score. If you lose, whatever, just try harder, practice better, and try again next time. If you win - good on ya, keep that shit up and stay on your game. Not everyone wins. And if they aren't taught that when they are young they will be in a world of hurt when they are older and exposed to how life really works.

4. Bad eyebrows. Seriously. I see far too many women with brows that are completely fucked to hell. And if you are guilty of this, your friends either also have terrible brows or they simply hate you and are laughing at how silly you look.

The struggle is real folks:

So there's a wee list of the few things that irk me. What would make your list? 

Kid Convos

Finish swallowing your purple drank ya'll because here is another round of kid convos straight from the mouths of my growing clan. Enjoy.

Owen: Mom, did you know there are millions of galax-cities?

When texting Ariana while she was staying the night at a friends house.
Ari: BRB. We gotta see if Hammy is dead.
Me: *laughs hysterically* Who is hammy? And why did you speak so matter-of-factly about his potential death?
*Ater a few minutes of silence*
Ari: Don't worry. He's still alive.

Ariana: Thomas almost drowned.
Me: He's a fish, how could he almost drown?

Me: Hey sweetie, I brought you a snack.
Owen: Thank you. What are they?
Me: Junior Mints. They were my favorite as a kid.
O *to his sister*: Hey Ari, you want some Mint Juniors?

Owen: My teacher is so funny, we've gotta be related because he's funny and I'm funny.

When tucking Owen in after having a dance off in the kitchen and me attempting to do the pirouettes he requested of me after we belted out a duet of, "Someone like you" as his nigh, night song.
Owen: You know what's weird?
Me: What?
O: Everyone in our family has a little crazy in them.
Me: How do you feel about that?
O: Awesome. It makes me feel…like…special. Because we're not like other families

After asking the kids to take the cushions off the couch so I could vaccumm it.
Owen: Finding money is so precious. I got fo' dollas baby. Fo' sweet dollas. *Proceeds to check more cushions.

Ariana: After watching a Bobby Flay in some cooking show. "They need to make a documentary about Bobby Flay."

Owen: Mummy, are you aware that 81% of all children suffer from lower back pain?

And as always, for more shenanigans go here.