Date Night.

I am lame. It is Friday night. It was supposed to be date night.  Irish Weekend in our town…tons of people, parties, music…lots of fun to be had.

As I stated, I am lame.  I could not get myself motivated to do it…the much anticipated, needed, wanted date night.  A night out with my hubby. a.k.a. boyfriend/best friend, to talk freely, drink to be merry, and laugh about anything and everything.  To be adults and not need to be interrupted 800 times during a meal to cut food or take kids to the bathroom ( that don’t really need to go but are sick of sitting at the table and coloring on placemats and just want to check out the bathroom) or deal with picking up the same toy off the floor twenty times and the inevitable spilling of a drink…on the table, in laps, in a shoe.

It happens…every time. No joke.

I adore my kids and love teaching them about how to behave in nice restaurants and trying new foods, but it is utterly exhausting. As I sit there cutting chicken tenders and testing fries to see if they are still scalding hot from the fryer, I daydream about date night.

To apply a little extra makeup, wear a white shirt, without worrying about snot, spills or hand prints on it. To pick a place and not worry about whether or not they have a kiddie menu…to sit in silence if we so choose…oh how I fantasize.

And yet, here I am blogging in sweatpants instead of applying eye makeup and perfume.

It is Friday night.  Up since five a.m. Attempting to go back to sleep several times, but never able to. The two little ones still coming to me (never my husband) to say they cannot sleep and to please let them snuggle…in my queen size bed.  At first, I could care less…I am half asleep and this has been happening to me on and off for almost eighteen years.  But around two or three a.m., I wake up with children wrapped all over me like Velcro…or an octopus…or both.

I so envision myself out on the town, sharing laughs with my husband and friends that we haven’t seen all summer. On this beautiful fall night, with my best friend. The guy that said to me- I get it…you are exhausted…so how about I take the kids out for ice cream and give you some time alone? That guy…the guy that gets me and loves me and will wait for tomorrow to have a date night.  So I hope that writing this doesn’t bring me bad karma and that I cannot go out tomorrow for some disastrous reason…that it puts my sleepy, cranky vibes out there in the universe so I can justify not forcing myself after a LONG day, of sitting here writing and watching bad t.v. to make tomorrow night the better choice for date night…hopefully a good night’s sleep. Taking my time with chores. Giving myself time to apply makeup and find a clean shirt without stains. And enjoy…actually enjoy…date night.

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Twins.

I don’t have them.  My little sister does. She is blessed with twins. Identical twin girls…not so identical but enough to drive some of us mad trying to figure out which one is which.

They are five today. I am in shock at how quickly time has flown (seeing as I ignore that aging clock…my own children will be four forever) and the twins just started Kindergarten as well…good luck to their teacher!

They are Sweet and Sassy.  Bold and Spicy. Angel and Devil. Happy and Sad. Funny and Serious.

Whatever their mood or feeling, it never seems to be the same…maybe I am wrong…I am just the Aunt. I’m sure their parents could say differently!  But when I see them, it generally takes a second to figure out their differences…then place the name with the difference. If I had been their parent, I may have had to give them name tags for the first four years, then the fifth year would be the teacher’s job to worry who is who…not really, but I am still in awe at how their parents do it.

The girls may look the same, but their personalities have always been different…one seems quieter and more reserved…the other confident and chatty.  It is almost like a yin and yang situation…they balance each other as if they were a whole being that was split into two people…

Amazed. 

Knowing the many different types of twins is even more fascinating to me…how a boy and girl can look similar and were born at the same time yet…they are a BOY and GIRL.

Just another wonder of the world, intriguing, possibly spiritual in some way. I am thinking twins are a gift from God, or the universe or a higher power…I am sure some parents of twins may not see it that way, when dealing with double trouble toddler twins, but to have two people share so much just seems beyond our understanding of life and the universe.  I am certain someone could give a reasonable scientific explanation to the wonders of twins or triplets or just multiples in general.

I would like to think of my nieces as a little piece of heaven…they may be Wonder Twins at times- activating all sorts of twin powers on their siblings or parents (cutting their own hair, filling the kitchen floor with water from a hose, makeup makeovers). But these two little ladies are growing up fast with a bond I will never understand…I have a gift of watching them become their own person from the sidelines…not sure I could handle it day in and day out.. I give their family a big high five for getting through the first five years of life with these two sweetie pies…and wish them many more… Happy birthday to my nieces Fi and Bea<3

Vivid Memories.

I was about six. Standing in a cold bathroom. Struggling to get my extremely tight-fitted shirt off my head. Tears stung my eyes. Where was my mommy or daddy to help me?

There was a knock at the door. My Kindergarten teacher’s wife was gently offering to help me with whatever it was that was holding me up. I said I was fine. Yet continued to struggle with this dumb shirt.

I was attempting to put on my witch costume for a play to perform for our families. One problem. My family wasn’t there.

I finally exited the bathroom with a disheveled costume and hair. The wife of my teacher whispered in my ear, “don’t worry…I will cheer and clap for you”…how did she know? That is what I cried and longed for….

To do this day,  I remember it as if it just happened. ..my forty-something year old eyes reliving that day through those six year old eyes…laying on the floor, peeking from under my black witch’s hat to see if the wife was really cheering and clapping for me.

She did.

My heart smiled.

That was over thirty years ago.

There are countless other vivid moments from my childhood and teen years and early adulthood that I can still feel and see…

Not sure why these things stick with me…I am certain other people share these types of memories…but why??

Is it the foundation of who we become as adults? Is it to test our strengths and weaknesses?  Is it all planned out by some higher power? Will these memories follow us into the afterlife…no matter what we believe in?

A sad moment with a family member, a serious talk with a friend, a romantic encounter…all little moments in our time threading together to our present.  To remind us maybe of who we were and who we are.

Quite possibly a life quilt of sorts…different shapes and sizes and colors. Some dark,  some vibrant. Sewn together to blanket us, make us feel safe and warm with who we have become…

I like my quilt…some days I feel like I could use another layer to protect me from the cold hard world I live in…other days,  I toss it aside. Jump up and claim this moment as mine…remembering who I am, holding back those dark moments, like my first ever school play, to enjoy the joyous day that lies before me.

Messes.

UPDATE: Even almost two years later, I am STILL feeling this way…and life just got even crazier around here! Which is NOT helping in the mess department…oh well. I will get to it someday.

 

I am THAT Mom. I hate messes. I despise them actually. Toys, piles of papers, shoes, laundry, overflowing trash bins…it drives me almost mad…not there just yet…but VERY close.

My house is ALWAYS a mess, it seems.  I don’t think it bothers me so much because of what others may think, I think it is just truly and honestly ME…I get this fire in my belly about it.  Sometimes it unleashes itself to my husband and children, or sometimes I just run around the house mumbling under my breath about “how many stinking times will I pick up this toy” or shoe or sweatshirt…the list of objects is endless.

I grew up in a house with three sisters and a mother and stepfather. Our house was only clean on the weekends and “pre-party” as my sister calls it.  We kids did a majority of the cleaning, (which is ok since I want my kids to also learn how to keep their things neat and organized and clean…but I am still working on that), and huffing and puffing that we hated Saturdays and chore lists and could care less about folding clothes, weeding gardens and washing pots and pans.

Our kids/mess makers sound a lot like me and my sisters did. They are 17, almost 15(tomorrow, but who’s counting!), seven and two…so the array of chores/capabilities is vast and the assortment of things they leave behind in my little home is UNREAL.

How can someone be asked to put their shoes away that are laying in the MIDDLE of the floor, and only grab ONE?!

Or to clean the mountain of clothes strewn across the floor in the teenagers’ room, only to find the clothes shoved in the closet or overflowing drawers…

Or ” Hey, could load the dishwasher for me while I am making dinner?” thanks beautiful offspring of mine who is fully capable and intelligent enough to know that means EVERYTHING in the sink…and then WIPE and RINSE out the sink…task complete…no such luck. Remnants of food and God only knows what else still lay in the sink and all over the counter and floor around the dish loading area.

NOT my actual kitchen, but how I am feeling when the kids clean the kitchen…

 

I am stalling right now, writing yet another post about something that may bring me bad karma for thinking/writing it, that these little and big messes are all around my feet, irritating me to no end…My Little Ponies under my desk, on my desk, under my chair. Puzzle pieces, cars, and more DVD’s than I can count are all over our family room, thanks to my two year old who thinks DVD’s are toys. I am avoiding the inevitable as my son naps…time for a “blitz” as I like to call it…tidy everything up just so I can sit back (did I just type the word sit?!) and look around at my cute little home and feel pride…

Not happening…

My kids- as much as I love them- irk me. They are not learning from me…the tireless job of mothering, or as they like to call it, nagging.  My job is to TEACH them life skills and nurture and love them (they are all getting a D this marking period from me).They tell me to make chore charts, (so I don’t need to nag) write it down, leave notes on their door…yeah right. I still have to nag about where the chore list went, or sticky note that said exactly what I needed done…commence nagging. I would do it all for them, really. I don’t mind cleaning, but it is the repetition of doing the SAME chores every single day, that are driving me batty.  So sharing the “wealth” helps keep me sane and is supposed to teach them some responsibility…supposedly…

So with a little more structure during this school year, I will be making a new chore chart, and doing my blitz momentarily, and then quite possibly having ten minutes to spare to sit back and enjoy the view…before they all come home again…

The Quiet.

Kittens nibbling on dry food. A fan spinning. Me typing.  The only sounds I hear in my house right now. It is quiet in this house.  Too quiet.

I am not accustomed to this lack of sound.  I am usually daydreaming about what it is like, while washing dishes or cooking, or attempting to ignore bickering children over a too loud t.v.

It seems peaceful enough.  But not sure how much I like it.  I have ( scattered and disconnected) lists and ideas in my brain of what life will be like someday when the kids are grown and gone…Complete silence filling the void of giggles/crying/fighting/singing, and messes to be cleaned up (toys, snacks on the carpet or sofa or pans needing to be scrubbed-and mountains of laundry to fold everyday) replaced with…well, I am not so sure.

I guess with all this quiet, I am afraid that I might not really have anything to do…for myself or others. No school/sports schedules to distract me, or errands to run with kids in tow, or endless trips to doctor appointments and the pharmacy for latest virus or bug. As I drive endlessly, and clean and space out while making a meal or folding clothes yet again, I remember the gadzillion things I would LOVE to be doing at this moment, if I just had a free second or hour or day to myself, but like this moment right now as I sit in a quiet house after my amazing husband (see previous Blog) decided to give me some “alone” time after he was away for almost a week, I thankfully had SOMETHING to do other than cleaning… this.

I like this writing business. Not sure if I am very good at it, but it fulfills a need to vent or feel creative while I am shoving a meal in my mouth or having a quick cup of coffee while the kids watch a show or play.  Not sure if it will help in the future when those quiet days are everyday vs. an occasional gift…but for now, it helps.

I assume that those quiet days in my future will hopefully be filled with me in a self-discovery time…of hobbies started that I always wanted to try, getting myself in shape and eating well ( even though I am doing that hardcore right now), going back to school, and maybe some pampering…but even after I do all those things, I still come home to this…I am kind of bored/scared of it already but will soak it up, because in about an hour an army of hungry, cranky children will walk through my door with lots of demands and homework and baths to get done…

So I will relish this moment with a purring kitten that is snuggled up now next to me, my feet up, and doing whatever I want after I hit “Publish”…

Sappy But True.

 

 

I love my husband.  I REALLY love my husband. Some people may gag at that thought. I am not a “sappy” person, so for me to write this open “love” note to my husband is a tad over the top for me.  But he deserves it.

We met nineteen years ago.  We dated casually.  We lived across the street from each other in a hip little town. He was a surfer that managed a surf shop.  I owned a coffee house.  He would throw the biggest and best parties in town.  Everyone knew him.  And he liked ME. Well, and two other girls…but that is why I say we dated casually.  I tease him about that to this day, but I had also dated another person at the time too so we were not really taking relationships too seriously yet. 

Life got sticky. Family. Work. Money. I went away. He didn’t return my calls. Ouch.

I came back a few weeks later, and moved on from him. Got my head in the game of work, work, and more work.  No more boys and parties to distract me…nope not me.

Then he appeared again. With his blond hair, ski sweater( It was January), and huge smile. Not biting. He asked me on a REAL date…not a beer and fries kinda date at the local Irish bar. A real grown up kinda dinner date. 

I caved. I said yes.

Other than him traveling for a ski trip to Colorado that was preplanned before we got back together, and his countless days over eighteen years of traveling for business, we are together. Forever.  I DO actually believe this.

We are both determined to make it work…when things are bad, because they get bad for everyone…when one of us wants to give up…when we cannot make the other one laugh or smile…we remind each other of all that we put ourselves through to get to this point.

What seemed as endless years of being broke – eating mac and cheese and pasta endlessly. Our treat would be to fatten up at our parents’ houses when we would visit…which was a lot…we were hungry.

Years of fighting…all I know is the “run when things get tough” lifestyle, and he is from the “stand together when things are rough” life…we balanced each other I guess.

Living in my in-law’s house several times with our children to get money saved…and support.  We were clueless.  Still are somedays.

It must be working. Nineteen years together, four kids, many jobs, two companies started, one house fire,  vacations we couldn’t and now finally can afford, health scares and illness, and countless memories shared…

I am anxiously awaiting my husband’s arrival after a VERY long six day business trip to launch yet another company with his business partner. I am so proud of him.  He is a natural salesman…not the greasy, slimy kind that makes you want to run in the opposite direction when looking to buy a car…he is honest and funny and optimistic. He can build or design anything…in our shed. He reminds me of my Grandfather,( with whom he had a great relationship with and looked up to), a man that was always curious and building and creating until he died at 92.

I cannot wait to hear about his trip, and celebrate with a day at the beach and cocktails tonight in our little backyard while barbequing something yummy for dinner. I also cannot wait for my partner to help me balance out our family…and give me a little break. I feel like I am missing a limb when he is gone. I feel like my judgment is always blurred with the kids when I am left to here to hold down the fort…I let them take advantage of me, because I am running in circles trying to keep the basics going around here. Until my husband returns. Then I just want to collapse, scream and yell, or run away. 

But then he holds me tight, brings us back together as a united front.  We stand tall together. We need each other.  This is why it has worked.  We have made a life together, through good and bad, to let our kids know that some things ARE worth fighting for…