I was just snuggling in the bed with Vivian, talking about how she is turning five soon when, out of the blue, she dropped the Disney World bomb on me…
“Mama, I want to go to Disney World.” Then, she leaned into my ear and whispered, “If you let me go to Disney World, I will let you have a piece of wine and coffee when we get back home.”
My how the bribery tables have turned!
If you know me well, you know that patience is not my virtue…and I’m not a morning person. Naturally, school mornings in our house are festive to say the least, as are Saturday game days and Sunday church mornings. Okay, every morning is rough. Did I also mention that I have 3 little girls? There are a lot of wardrobe malfunctions, fighting, and yelling to get through the morning routine. Yes, I said routine. It’s the same thing, every morning, yet my girls wake up in a brand new world every day.
On Valentine’s Day, we were all getting ready for the last basketball game of the season…and running late. On the annual day of love, amid the hectic morning, my family informed me that I am a nag. Romantic, I know. You see, I had been asking and asking (and asking and yelling) to pick up their things, to get dressed, to stop fighting, to put on clothes suitable for winter, to brush their teeth, to put their dirty clothes in the hamper, to brush their hair, to put their toys in the toy room, and… you get the point.
Naturally, I protested and let their daddy get them ready. Rather than repeating myself, I simply took all of the things I had been asking them to pick up and put them in an empty hamper. I also let them go to the game rocking the first ponytail attempt by their daddy.
When we returned from the ball game, they realized that their American Girl dolls, favorite sweatshirts, toys, books, etc. were gone. I showed them the hamper and told them the new rule, “I ask once to pick up your things and after that, I simply put it in the hamper and you have to do a chore to get each thing back.”
Sweeping the entry to get her American Girl doll. Parenting like a boss.
The rule had been helping, but mornings were still rough. So, I decided to give up yelling at my kids and losing my patience with them for Lent. Naturally, Ash Wednesday was a snow day. Thursday was a snow day. Friday was a snow day. That’s right, 3 consecutive snow days. My husband is a bit worried about my sanity, but so far I haven’t yelled at my daughters. Day 4…only 36 more to go.
Planning ahead for next year.
I didn’t realize that I was celebrating Mardi Gras at the dance studio until I just happened to check my planner. I used to celebrate Mardi Gras and leave Lent and Ash Wednesday for the Catholics, but last year, I chose to observe Lent. I gave up chocolate, soda, and Bourbon. Yes, all three. I now know that 40 days is a long time.
Very long, like I would ask to just smell my husband’s bourbon or the girls’ chocolate. By the time Easter arrived, all I wanted to do was binge on chocolate Cadbury eggs and have a Woodford Reserve with a splash of coke. It was solemn, but not exactly a religious observation.
I spent this snowy Ash Wednesday helping my Lydia with her Abraham Lincoln report, all the while considering what to give up for Lent. I have decided to give up impatience with my girls. It sounds crazy, I know, but with 3 strong-willed divas with unlimited energy, I will be spending a lot of time in prayer to keep from raising my voice or losing my patience…especially while getting ready on school days.
Feel free to give me a shout out in your prayers.
Valentine’s Day has become a bit of a retail holiday, but I still love the chance to remind people of our love. We always enjoy our church family dinner, our girls exchange Valentines, class parties, lots of sugar, greeting cards meant just for you, and flowers. It can also be a day of disappointment and unfortunate comparison. As a mom of all girls, I experienced my first Valentine’s Day dilemma.
My oldest, Sofia, received a sweet little stuffed animal from one of her friends. While I am not a big stuffed animal fan, it was from a friend and not a little boy. We dodged the third grade girl drama. Parent victory. Short-lived parent victory, but I’ll take what I can get.
After school, my first grader and youngest in pre-K had a Valentine’s Day party recap. Ignorance truly is bliss, people. My first grader was enjoying the usual class Valentines and party food, looking forward to the weekend celebrations with family, when my youngest dropped a bomb on us. My four-year-old, my youngest, the baby sister, was given a stuffed animal and earrings. Come again?!
My youngest with her big girl dangle earrings from a boy. Definitely a traumatic experience. Parenting defeat on Friday the 13th.
I tried not to react and simply asked what she said when the brave little boy gave her the gifts. She replied, “I told him thank you.” Another parent victory, she used her manners, quickly replaced with an inner monologue freak out.
‘Am I slipping? Surely I seem crazy enough to scare boys away. Should I have her 6’3″ daddy drop her off in the mornings? Do I need to have more cootie conversations? Seriously, jewelry?! Do I give it back and risk seeming rude? Do I simply let her wear them and not make a big deal? For the love, my baby got jewelry from a boy and I am not ready for all of this!’
I was quickly interrupted by the tears of my middle child. Wait, what?! “Vivian got earrings AND a stuffed animal! I didn’t even get a stuffed animal at school!” I reminded Lydia that it was only the 13th, that Valentine’s Day was only beginning. I also had her go with her daddy so I could take her big sister to get a stuffed animal. We are now the proud owner of a wiener dog with Valentine shorts and “I love long kisses” embroidered on its side…and earrings. Big girl dangle earrings, given by a boy to my little girl who still writes her ‘y’ backwards.
I will never forget my first week home with my firstborn. She never slept more than 3 hours. Ever. The usual for Sofia was 2 hours awake, 2 hours asleep, until the day I thought she died. That’s right, with all of the new mom stress and worry, magnified by my exhaustion and overachiever tendencies to be the perfect mom, I thought I killed her in less time than it took me to kill a houseplant.
She was sleeping so soundly that I couldn’t wake her up. Her breath was shallow, her body didn’t react to my touch, and this had gone on for more than her maximum of 3 hours. I called my husband in a panic to get home because I had somehow killed our child in the first week.
We used cold rags on her feet, I tried to nurse her, we talked to her, turned on music. I thought she was in a coma. We rushed to the pediatrician and, as soon as the doctor came in, Sofia opened her eyes and smiled at me. That’s right, I had all but blasted Beastie Boys but the sound of the pediatrician coming in woke up my newly rested, happy child. I then proceeded to have an emotional breakdown. The pediatrician recommended take out food and paper plates, to let my house be messy, and sleeping pills to get at least one night of sleep a week.
I am pretty sure I haven’t slept a solid 8 hours in almost a decade, but I have managed to keep all 3 of my girls alive. That’s right, all girls. Not the sweet, mellow girls either. I have thrill seeking, strong-willed, opinionated divas who are meaner and messier than any boy I know.
Go ahead, feel bad for my husband, just for a moment. Then, realize that men determine the gender and I have to do their hair every morning. Every morning.
So, my husband and I live in a small town in North Carolina, but our families are spread all over the Midwest and Southeast. So, I share my daily festivities with our girls on Facebook. By ‘festivities” I mean humiliating moments, bizarre encounters, juggling acts, hilarious conversations, travel experiences, and my “normal” chaos with my divas.
I can’t tell you how many times people have encouraged me to write a book or start a blog. My response was always, “When? I am just trying to keep them all alive and not lose a kid! Maybe when Vivian starts school.” For real, some days I had to claim momnesia and just mentally prepare myself for the next day of craziness.
After hearing “this too shall pass” at least a million times, I finally have them all in school. So, here we go…
Coordinating outfits can be a challenge, but I am glad I found an outfit with pockets for the youngest. We had chicken nuggets in her pockets so she would cooperate. Unfortunately, our dog, Ollie Augustus, was not as easily bribed with his pork chops. So, our only other male in the family is not pictured. That’s right, I managed to get a dog as high maintenance as my children.
Becca, Vivian, Sofia, Lawrence, Lydia, Courtney.
Mamarazzi & Her Divas 