Motherhood Slapped Me Upside the Head Today

I feel that I have written a good amount of mushy gushy posts about my love of motherhood to adequately convince any reader that I do in fact love being a mom.  Enough so, that I feel justified in writing this not-so-positive post.  Because its not a bowl of cherries every day. Just so you know, I love my kids.  I’m thankful for them.  I’m very blessed.  Yadayada.

It always happens when I am feeling like I’ve got it all together.  Just when I think that someone should really take note of how I’ve bathed, fed, cuddled, kissed and admired my children.  I even got my room clean!  Sure Addison had a slight fever, but I smooched and loved on her, gave her Tylenol and tucked her into a cozy little nook on the couch with a semi-educational cartoon on.

I got lunch done in time to make sure we could all eat and make it to the Orthopedic Surgeon for Layla’s checkup.  I even snuck in a few bites of lunch for myself over the pot in the kitchen, wooden spoon style.

I managed to make going potty sound like fun to Donovan, instead of convincing and bribing him into doing it without a tantrum.

I was so together that I had just enough time to lather on some foundation and a smidge of mascara…. which is where it all started to go awry.  I knew 5 minutes in the bathroom was too good to be true.

hang on, gotta throw some pizza dough together…

So there I am, peacefully applying some makeup, when I notice that the toilet is running… the one Donovan had flushed my razor down two weeks ago.  The toilet that I had already had a plumber over to fix.  So thinking that its just a tiny clog, easily fixed by a quick plunge, I walk over, stick the plunger in and  gently but firmly try to coax new life back into the camode.  I still do not know how it happened but one measly, lady-like plunge and what should arise but “Old Faithful.” In my freshly, touched up face.  Cue horrified shrieking, and blindly grabbing for a towel.

Now, before I go on I need to tell you a little about my 2 year old son.  Evidently, God thought it would be amusing to give me, the mother of 3 docile, girly daughters {who would not approach anything dangerous with a 6 ft. pole} a son.  But not just any son.  The Tasmanian devil edition 2.0.  The Tasmanian Devil edition that auto-updates when he sleeps.  I am convinced of this.  As soon as he drifts into adorable blondie, squishy cheeked slumber… he installs all the latest mischief, downloads, and re-starts. Truth.

For the last couple of weeks, and this very afternoon, while I was naively typing this, thinking he was actually asleep at nap time,  he has been having the time of his little life.  Where-in he painted with my makeup all over the bathroom, flushing entire {ENTIRE} rolls of toilet paper, drawing on walls, coloring with black sharpie on the counter, fridge and coffee pot, finger-painted with toothpaste, etc. etc. etc.

Which brings us to, post toilet water clean up, pre-discovery of my makeup all over, running out the door to the Orthopedist.  As I carry my feverish little lovie out to the car, I notice some strange white marks on my van door.  My brand new van door.  I fervently pray that it is sidewalk chalk, run my finger over it and realize that it is in fact scratched in swirls that would make Van Gogh proud.  So I turn to my son and ask if he did it.  Donovan, being a very honest little boy says “I dwaw with a wock Mom!”  Lets skip ahead past my reaction shall we?

We come to the ortho, with all my kids in tow, and one 4 year old in my arms, to make sure Layla’s growth plate is healing.  Lest you think Donovan is the source of all the excitement in my home, let me clarify.  2 weeks ago, Layla fractured her elbow.  2 days later, she is doing magic for Donovan and “makes a penny disappear…..”  I casually mention this to the X-ray tech, just so she isn’t concerned when she does the X-ray.  To my utter disbelief, they tell me that the penny has probably started embedding itself into her arm and they have to remove the cast early and recast….

Which brings us to right now.  Typing this.  An unsuspecting woman, who is writing about her children {whom I love to the moon and back},  who while she writes more things happen. 

The moral of the story: Layla is not allowed to hang out with Donovan anymore, and Donovan is not allowed anywhere alone.  Ever again.  Oh and, even if he is really quiet and seems to be sleeping…. he isn’t.

Yes.  Today I got slapped upside the head by motherhood.  Hopefully tomorrow it will be cherries again.


How Did That Get In There??

We moms have weird stuff in our purses.  One time… I even had a poopy diaper. I’m not proud of that.  But I was at someone’s house for the first time, and I really didn’t want to put something so disgusting in this virtual stranger’s trash, so somehow my purse seemed like a better option….not one of my finer moments.  A lot of times we carry around all the necessities, things we need.  Things we haven’t needed in years.  Things we might need in case of an asteroid hitting our mini-van while we are on the merry-go-round with our kids.  We carry things for our husbands.  We carry things to occupy the kids in waiting rooms and check out lines.  We carry things for our baby.  We carry things that would make Bear Grylls shout for joy if he was stranded and came upon our purses.  {As if we would accidentally abandon our super cute purse, Ha!}  So why, if we are so prepared for every incidence, do we never have a stick of gum {even though we have the empty foil pouch that holds the gum} or a quarter?

So, what’s in your purse?

I’ll go first, since it was my idea and all:
*One Fisher Price hammer

*Expired antibiotics with one pill left
*Chia seeds in a ziploc
*School supply list
*About 20 grocery lists
*Victoria’s secret lip gloss.  Not mine and I don’t know where it came from.  I really want to use it, but like I said…. don’t know where it came from.  I keep it in there in case some day I’m not a germ-a-phobe anymore.  I just can’t seem to throw out perfectly good lip gloss.  It would be a waste.  But I also can’t wear it….. cuz…. don’t know who’s lips it was on last or where those lips have been before touching the lip gloss.
*Cute 31 zipper pouch that I love!
*1 marble
*1 contact case–Its been about a year since I’ve taken my contacts out… so I don’t know why that’s in there.  Plus I’m totally blind without them in, so its not like I would get to a location and think that I would really need to have the option to remove my only source of vision.  Seriously people, I might as well be that guy in Star Trek with the visor-y thing.
*1 sapphire earring that belongs to my mom…. who lives several states away.  Another mystery.
1 wallet
1 set of van keys with every pharmacy card known to man.  Which is weird, because we hardly ever go to the doctor.
One coconut flavored dum-dum
1 tube of diaper cream…. even though I no longer have a baby in diapers….
And last but not least, 1 train that I keep in there for really desperate situations.
{I didn’t pull it all out, because I just really didn’t want to put it all back, or be guilted into putting the stuff where it belongs}

The funny thing is that, almost every time I am searching through my purse to find, basically only my wallet, keys or cell phone…. I say to myself “How did that get in there???”  Or, “I should really clean that thing out.”

And I’m guessing that every single one of my purses has equally weird contents, because when I switch purses I only take my wallet, phone, chap-stick and keys.  What’s in your purse?!

I’m Not Asking You For Money

Picture with me if you will, an 11 year old child you know.  For me that means a little girl that is taller than me, {I’m 5’3″} she is on her way into 5th grade, full of life, smiles, music… you get the idea.

But in another part of the world.  In an undisclosed orphanage, is this 11 year old.  Yes.  I said ELEVEN!

She is 10 pounds.  There are many babies born in country, straight from their mother’s womb at 10 pounds.  But for this little girl, an extra chromosone sentenced her to a life in a metal crib with little to no human contact and a baby bottle. 
I’M NOT ASKING YOU FOR MONEY. They funds have been raised to rescue her.  SHE NEEDS A FAMILY TO LOVE HER BACK INTO EXISTENCE.  SHE NEEDS IMMEDIATE PRAYER.  If you want to give to her fund, do it.  I’m certain her new family is going to have a ton of medical bills ahead.  But this girl, not a baby, needs to be rescued.  Yesterday. 
I’m mad.
I’m mad that human beings would let this happen to a child. This whole situation is disgusting.  That is a little girl.  An eleven year old little girl.
Click over here to No Greater Joy Mom and donate to her rescue {you can also win something, but who cares, a life is at stake, that should be enough}. 
Bad things happen because good people don’t do anything.