Mother Of The Year

One thing I've learned as I've gotten older is that I'm pretty good at being me. I might not be what others expect, but I'm me, and I'm happy with that. I'm a good wife, a good worker, and a good mother. I mean, so far I've raised 3 daughters, and none of them have died of neglect. Yet.

I do fall into the trap of comparing myself to those around me. Probably more often than I should. And I never measure up to what I think they are. But then I remember that I'm me, and I'm the best me I can be.

The other day, I was watching Studio 5, a local crappy TV show. It's basically a crappy Mormon Mommy Blog on the air. They have their fair share of "How-To's" and Fauxlebrities. This particular day, they had on Justin Hackworth. Or as I like to call him, Nie Nie's personal photographer. He takes all her pictures. He does a great job. He has recently done a project where he photographed mothers with their daughters. It was lovely. I wish I had lovely pictures of me and my mom together. But his project was a perfect segue into the next topic, which was Mother Of The Year, and Young Mother Of The Year.

My jaw hit the floor as I was so stunned that there was actually a contest for this title. I thought it was pretty clear that I already held the title. So I had to keep watching, just to see what it was all about. Apparently there really is a contest for MOTY and YMOTY. Governor Herbert appointed these women, and I had to keep watching to see how fabulous they really were.

Well.

I'll focus on the Young Mother here, just because I can relate to her more, seeing as I'm still young and whatnot. She is beautiful. Smart. Obviously a loving mother. Mormon. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Soft-spoken.

I'm all those things. Well, except not blonde anymore.

I waited to see what set her apart from all the other young mothers I know. She had a baby that died at birth. I have a friend who had that happen. Tragic. She has a husband who at a young age suffered a stroke. I have a friend who had that happen as well. So tragic. She reads scriptures to her children daily. I know lots of people that do that. She reads books to her kids. Check. I'm still sort of at a loss as to what makes her so spectacular?

And mostly I'm wondering why in the Hell someone would take a job as tiring, rewarding, personal, and intimate as motherhood and make it into a competition? Aren't we already hard enough on ourselves without being compared to those around us? Can't we all win our own personal MOTY awards?

This really got me riled up, and those of you that follow me on FB know this. I was quite offended. Not that I wasn't chosen (duh), but that so many of the wonderful amazing mothers I know weren't chosen. I feel like all of you deserve a MOTY award. We all have our own crap to deal with, and so many of you handle it with grace and dignity. I want to go down a list of qualities in my friends and readers that I admire, and that make you all Mother's Of The Year in my eyes.

Some of you are or do the following:

• Patient to no end with your children.
  
• Conscious of making sure your family eats healthy most of the time.
  
• Run crazy lives.
  
• Run literally. Miles and miles.
  
• Battle cancer and win!
• Deal with hardships repeatedly and quietly.
• Work and go to school and mother.
  
• Work full time as the family's supporter.
  
• Take in children that belong to others, either short term as babysitting, or long term as foster parents.
  
• Drive old beater cars so your kids can be involved in sports or dance or whatever.
  
• Reach out to help neighbors and friends without even being asked.
  
• Sacrifice anything to stay with your children.
  
• Make life lovely along the way.
  

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not bashing on the YMOTY. She deserves recognition. But so do the rest of us. I don't want to see motherhood become another tool of superiority. There is no perfect mother. There isn't. Even my own mother had her faults. And those faults are what make us all wonderful and special and deserving of our own awards.

So to all you mothers out there, you all win the Mother Of The Year award in my eyes. Keep on doing what you do best!

Curses

This is a totally judge-free zone, mmmkay? Just so we're clear, I've never made any innuendo that I am actually mother of the year, it's merely a sarcastic joke. You'll see what I mean in a sec.

My name is Keli, and I'm a cusser. (This is where you all say "Hello, Keli," and nod your head approvingly at my desire to bear my soul to you.)

It's true, you know. I'm a cusser. I always have been. I remember distinctly the very first time I said a cuss word. I was in 5th grade. And it just came out. Just popped right out! I was as shocked as my friend that was on the receiving end of it. It was just a "damn", but it was significant. I still remember what it felt like, where I was standing, and even the book that was on the desk in front of me.

But honestly, 5th grade? Why was I even aware of cuss words in 5th grade? I have one answer to that. It's in my genes. My grandpa was a cusser, and my dad was a cusser. I don't think I heard my mom utter more than a few curse words in her life, and most of them were due to my misbehaving and they were usually muttered under her breath. But me? I just have it in me. It's not something I'm proud of.

I have made concerted efforts repeatedly in my life to overcome my curse word affinity, but I always fall back into the same patterns. It doesn't help that I have a bad temper. Those two character traits seem to feed on one another.

So why am I telling you this, you ask? Because I have become very aware of my use of curse words, and my bad influence on people (Jill). My kids notice, and say, "Mom, you shouldn't swear!" And I say I know, but I'm a grown up, blah blah blah. But that's no excuse. So mostly I'm just putting this out there to have it as a record for myself. I need to stop cussing. I need to work on controlling my anger. I need to be a better example to my kids and to certain people. (Jill).

Remember, this is a judge-free zone. I don't need snarky comments about how you never swear and people that do have an obviously lacking grasp of the English language, otherwise they could come up with better words than curse words. I need comments letting me know I'm not alone in my cave of curses, and that you totally get where I'm coming from, because you yourself find comfort in an occasional curse word, especially when your kids have been working your last nerve all day, and you JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

See? Mother of the year, indeed.

That's what I need.

Why I Don't Ride The Bus

When I was a kid, when we would go off-track, (that's a year-round school thing for those of you not in the know) my mom and a bunch of us neighbor kids would all take a day and ride the bus downtown. She did this with us because her mom used to do that with her. It was quite a big deal back in the day. They would don their nicest hat and gloves, and they would pay their $0.5, and ride the one and only bus that ran at that time. While downtown, they would shop, and my mom's mom would always let them get a candy bar, and sometimes a new dress.

See? Big deal.

So we did that when we were kids. We would put on our nicest shorts and sandals, pay our $0.25 to one of the two buses that ran that day, and head downtown. We would always eat lunch, and usually score a couple of outfits. My mom was nice like that.

See? Also a big deal.

So tomorrow I'm taking Maggie on a date. We are going downtown, and I thought I would take her on the bus. Not the train, we're old hats at the train, but the actual bus bus. So I started looking at places to catch the bus. Then I realized every bus (there are like 12 in Riverton now), stops at the train station. But I don't want to go to the train. So I started using the Itinerary link on the UTA website.

It doesn't work. So I called the number. It doesn't work either.

How am I supposed to know where to catch the bus and what time? Seriously, UTA, get your act together. It's no wonder no one rides the bus anymore. You have made it frustrating and inconvenient. And how are good mothers like me supposed to carry on the traditions of our mothers if you make it so difficult to find our way around?

I might just have to resort to driving. But I really want to ride the bus. Or do I?

I Don't Want Your Address

I've been on the fence this year about Christmas cards. I ordered a whole slew of them last year, and then with the job loss and impending move, I managed to send out 2. 2. That is just sad. It made me feel like a failure, to be honest.

So in order to avoid the failure feeling this year, I'm just giving up on the Christmas card idea. We all pretty much look the same, maybe a little older, but not anything super. I just don't have the energy, 0r the time, or the money, to buy us all matchy matchy outfits and accessories, and then force my kids to look all lovely and sweet. They aren't lovely and sweet. My life is crazy and they are messy.

If you really want a true to life card, you can stop by any day and see my messy table covered in crafts and the TV set on Disney, and kids with crazy hair and morning breath. That is my Christmas card.

So I don't want you address. Sorry. You can check this here blog for any sort of joyous sweet moment that probably won't happen. And in the meantime, at least I don't feel like a failure. I'm awesome.

Giggle Words

While doing school today, one of Maggie's lesson books was teaching the -unk sound. It was used repeatedly in different words, you know, to enforce the correct usage. We came across one sentence that used the -unk sound in the word form of Junk.

She giggled.

Yep. My sweet 7 year old giggles at the word junk. Just like her daddy. I'm totally mother of the year here.

Because I Was Tired Of Hearing Them Fight

I woke up Saturday morning(ish), and the first sound I heard was my kids fighting. So since I had to do it anyway, I had Emma throw on her shoes, and we headed out for a run. I intended on it being a mile or so, then dropping her off at home, and finishing my 5 miles alone, but she insisted she could make it.

So we ran.

7 miles to be exact. She kept up most of the way, and we only walked up the biggest hill, and probably the last 2 miles. What a trooper. I'm a little sore today, and she's pretty sore.

But I was tired of hearing them fight, so maybe next time she'll learn that if she gives her sisters any crap, she and I are heading out for a run.

Mother of the year right here.

Mom's Day Week

I totally got spoiled this year for Mother's Day. I usually do, but especially this year.

First, I splurged and bought myself some new running shorts. I've been running in my tennis shorts with a bike jersey and golf socks and walking shoes. I had to upgrade at least one of these items. Sean said I could do it, so I counted my new shorts as my gift. And I was absolutely thrilled!

Then I got my hair done. Cut, colored, and highlighted. And by someone else! It's been years since I've had anyone else color my hair. It looks great! So I counted that, too, and figured I was good to go.

But then he said I should get a new outfit for our trip to Lake Mead on Monday. I couldn't let him down, so I had to get new capris, a shirt, and a cute new swimsuit cover up. I was definitely good to go, and I felt so spoiled! Life is good.

Then yesterday, after my second run of the day (I had to try out my new shorts after they arrived!), Sean took me to get my iPod screen cover fixed. Little did I know that he had something more in mind. It was also time to upgrade my phone, so I scored a new iPhone! We also got Sean one, because the business can pay for them, and it was only $10 more for him.

So now I totally feel spoiled. I mean, I should, because we all know I'm totally the mother of the year and all, but how will I ever top this for Father's Day? I will, because I already know what Sean is getting and he. will. love. it!

Kicking And Screaming

Maggie has issues. She takes after her mother. But man, oh, man, things have gotten bad around here.

Let me preface by saying that never have I had to deal with a horrible sleeper. My kids love to go to bed. They've all slept through the night (or I have) since they were a few weeks old.

Suddenly, Maggie has a huge fit every night before bed. I'm not talking a fit of just crying or screaming. It's a fit with hitting and swearing, oh wait, that's me, but she does her fair share of kicking and hitting.

She started this about the same time she broke her arm. It's her left arm, and she sucks her left thumb. Well, with the cast on, the thumb is gone. I think part of this problem is that she's having withdrawals. But it's been over a week now, and it's still going on. Last night was not pretty. There were threats of abuse, plenty of cussing and many times I threw my hands in the air in exasperation.

What do I do? How can I get her to bed each night without threatening to kill her?

(Don't bother calling DCFS, they would only have to see this sort of fit one time, and they'd give me a slap on the back, and wish me luck as they headed right back out the door).

Motivation

I was really motivated yesterday.

Mostly I was tired of the kids complaining that they were bored, so I decided to take them to the City.

All. My. Byself.




Here they are, waiting for our train. They ride for free, so we only had to pay $12 for me for the Metra. Bargain, huh?



Enjoying the pouring rain after spending the day inside the Field Museum. That place is awesome! I'm so geeky like that, I love all the tidbits of information that most people would find useless. Maybe I should have gone into museum sciences or something like that?

Seriously, though. When the museum closed, we headed out with the throngs of other people, and started hailing cabs. Maggie loves taxi's, btw. After standing a torrential rain for 45 minutes, having a single lady steal a cab right out from under me and the soaking wet kids, and knowing we were going to miss our express train home, I decided to walk to opposite direction of the crowd just to see if I could grab a random cab.

It worked.

We made it to the station about 10 minutes after our train's scheduled departure.

But, the Karma Gods were smiling down on us, because the train was still boarding when we arrived. We made it! Express all the way from Chicago to Glenview, which saves about 20 minutes of commute time. Which is priceless when you have 3 soaking wet kids!


A parting shot of the Field Museum. It is a wonderful place to visit. I plan on returning soon, and doing the Underground Experience.

So that was my day of motivation. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's unforgettable.

On Being a Good Mom

We all know I'm in the running for mother of the year, right? I'm pretty sure I'll win after this one.

The other day, I was back and forth and back and forth at neighbor Kate's house, in a futile attempt at perfecting our latest business venture. This back and forthing meant there were a few moments here and there when Gretta and Maggie were home alone. Not a big deal, since I was literally across the street. Like, driveway to driveway across the street. I just don't worry.

Well, as I was leaving Kate's house, the friendly AT&T man was walking through the neighborhood, and gave me a friendly wave. I waved back, because I'm nice like that.

Turns out, friendly AT&T guy had just come from my house, where Maggie answered the door, and promptly told him that she was home alone babysitting her little sister.

Of course this was shocking to him, since he has no idea how good of a mom I am, and that I would never leave my kids alone for more than, oh, a few hours. Not. Kidding, kidding, people. But he did proceed to tell my other neighbor Nancy that her next door neighbor had her kids home alone. She was shocked by this, because I still have her fooled.

But seriously, I was gone a total of like 5 minutes. And my kids of been given strict instructions not to open the door to anyone, or answer the phone, unless it's someone they know and trust. So really, is it my fault or theirs? Kidding again.

This does frighten me a little. Not enough to make me paranoid, but I guess I need to have another good sit down talk with the kids about what to do when mommy is across the street. You know, stranger danger and all that.

Anyway, I'm certain the word is out that I'm a finalist in the mother of the year contest, and hopefully this puts off any unfit contenders, cause I have a spot all cleared off on my mantle for that award.

*and as I write this post, my dear daughter is watching a Roseanne marathon. Yep.
*and here is a funny post I read about leaving your kids in the car. The comments are top-notch. You should totally read it, and the comments.

Sign Of The Times

We visited the dentist yesterday. Maggie has her first cavity growing on her back tooth, and it was getting to the point where I could see it growing worse every day. So we headed off to the dentist's office. It's a decent amount of time in the car to get there, so as we drove, Emma, who is now big enough to ride in the front seat, and I had a good conversation about school. She began telling me how they were learning to play "Kiss The Girl" on the steel drums.

Maggie piped up from the back seat, and said she knew that song. She hears it on the radio all the time. I was confused, as I absolutely refuse to listen to Radio Disney, and couldn't for the life of me figure out where she would have heard that song.

She began singing it at the top of her lungs. "'I kissed a girl, and I liked it....'" She sang. And sang.

Totally not the right song, but wow, was I a little shocked. I don't listen to music like that for 2 reasons. 1, I hate Pop music. It just doesn't feel right to me to BeBop along to kid-like DJ music. 2, the lyrics of that song, and a lot of other Pop songs are atrocious. I'm still not sure where she heard it, especially enough times to pick up the words so perfectly.

So here we are, buzzing along to get Maggie's first cavity filled as she sings a song about a first time lesbian encounter. We had a lot of firsts that day.

This Is Life

I have a killer cold. If I was a man, it would be a "man cold". And if I was motivated at all, I would put a super duper link to the "Man Cold" on YouTube, but you can "Tube" it yourself, cause I'm lazy like that. I fell asleep at 8:00 last night. It rocked. But I still feel like total crap.
*Oh, alright, I linked it. Geez. Now I need a nap.

Gretta is repeatedly trying to wedge herself under my computer chair. With each and every attempt, she bonks her head, hard, on the frame. And yet she continues to try. Tenacious, yes. Mentally ill, possibly.

I have seen Sugar Daddy a total of 15 minutes this week. No, that's a bad thing. See, it's his busy season, getting everything sorted out to different retailers for their Christmas sales. Which means he works at 5AM and gets in just after 7PM. I know I shouldn't complain because it's much harder on him than it is on me, but it's my blog, so I can complain about whatever I want. And tonight he's partaking in the Cubs vs. Brewers game in Milwaukee, so that means he won't be home until after midnight. I don't feel bad for him, though.

Maggie had her first dance class yesterday. Yeah, I'm such a good mom, I forgot the camera.

Emma missed the bus yesterday. Again. So she was late.

Gretta has a fever, a rash, and a limp. This warranted a trip to the ER, but she checked out fine.

My slutty dog has decided it's much more fun to spend the days philandering around the neighborhood than being cooped up in the house with a sick bitchy mom. I rarely know if she's in or out. And to be honest, I don't care anymore.

Oh, and I've been wearing the same pair of denim capris all week. I change my shirt and bra, of course, and my undies, but the pants, they just keep calling my name. I need a new pair. Or pairs.

Feel free to slap the Mother of the Year award right here.

You know...

You know you're old when you can drive around all day without the radio on.

You know you're a cool mom when your reputation as a bitch precedes you.

You know you're white trash when you wish your cheek cavities were bigger to hold more sunflower seeds.

You know you have good kids when they make the right decision, and tell you how good they feel about it.

Ahh, being a bitchy old white trash mom does have it's benefits.

Sucker Practice

Emma gets to play sucker, I mean soccer, again this year. She loves it. She really does. Me, not so much. I have such a deep appreciation now for all those years my mom sat through gymnastics meets, and swim meets, and diving meets, and cheerleading camp, and softball games, and even church volleyball games. I remember thinking that she probably had nothing else to do, so I felt like I was doing her a favor by getting her out of the house. How wrong I was.

Games aren't so bad. I enjoy the "competition" of it all. If you can call a group of girls swarmed around the ball laughing until they get their chance to kick it once a competition.

But the practices. Oh, the practices. Wow. Where to begin? First of all, the field we practice at is at an elementary school almost 30 miles away from our house. At 6:00 PM. Which means with traffic it takes us almost an hour to get there. Once we get there, we have to park. Usually a spot is around, but then there's the walk to the actual field. I kid you not, it is another 10 minutes. And mind you I'm pushing a stroller, carrying a diaper bag and a purse, Maggie usually has some sort of toy or blanket, we have to bring coats now, and what else? Oh yeah, the bulk of this 10 minute walk is through the mud. Stroller+Mud=Bad, bad things.

So by the time we actually make it to practice, I have had it. But we still have an hour to kill. And I use "kill" lightly. Last night, I don't think Gretta stopped screaming. You all know it, the Pterodactyl squeal she does. It's so pleasant. I'm sure it doesn't bother the other parents one bit. So we started walking the track around the field. Maggie takes off running, and takes a full on header onto the pavement. Blood, screams, and fat lips later, both kids are crying. What can I do? I laugh it off as one of those moments that is so going on the blog. And here it is. I keep my word.

I do love that Emma loves soccer. She is very talented. And I know she is healthy and happy. I guess in the scheme of it all, that's what really matters. So I'll continue my trek to practice every Tuesday night, and I'll do it with a smile, because that's what my mom did, and that's how it should be done.

And just so you know what kind of day it's gonna be at my house, I found a booger (not my own) on my mouse this morning. Yep, a click and stick kind of thing. Nice.