"___Other Explain___"

Toughen up, Kid!
As a Mama o' Three, every day I hear tragic stories of playtime war wounds that go something like:
"Mommy, I want to tell Daddy about my scraped knee.  Kiss it first."
"Mama, you can't see it, but my finger really stings even though you can't see it.  Can You see it?"
"Mom, check out this bleeding cut here, right here... and over here... and on my toe.  Doesn't even hurt!"

Seems like eons ago (only 8 years) that I was full of overwhelming anxiety when I had to carry my precious first newborn to the kitchen sink for his bath.  What if I dropped him on the way?  What if I tripped, or sneezed?  What if I blinked for too long and he slipped out of his plastic bath tub and flopped on the tile like a fish out of water?  I do distinctly remember being so exhausted that closing my eyes for too long—even while walking—was indeed very plausible.  And I'm a notorious klutz, so dropping anything, even a kid, was very likely.  It can be a cruel twist of fate for new mothers, so darn tired from nursing and caring for a beautiful new baby during all odd hours of day and night.  Time ticks sooo friggin' slow during cries of a newborn and tears of a mama.  On the flip side, days and weeks fly by too fast when you just want to take it all in.  (Hey, Mr. Sands Of Time, you are not playing nice... you need a Time Out!)  Meanwhile, coos, giggles, tiny-toe-nibbles, first words, first crawl, couch cruise, and big little steps... and falls.  Here is when you wish time would stand still.

Life don't work that way.

You become Mom amidst the Blur.

And "quick trips" to the grocery store, well, those are, quite simply, a world away from your single days.

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If you had to write on my Owie Report with your green sharpie pen, it would read:
" F' Yes  Other    Explain  My nerves are shot!"

My nerves are fragile at best.  At worst, they are shot.

I've been a Mama for 8 years now.  Fragile nerves won't stop me from going to Trader Joe's grocery store with three kids in tow, 30 minutes to kill, and "milk" on the list.

We landed a great parking spot; we have a little list in hand; we have grabbed the beloved hummus.  Smooth so far. "Mommy, I have to PEE!"  Aw, Sweet Pete!  I said something I thought I would never say in public, and especially in the vegetable aisle, "Honey, how badly do you have to pee right now?"  "Right now, Mommy!"  Hhhmph.

I scanned the store as I have not had to right-now-pee in this particular store before.  I spotted the restrooms and the pizza sampler bar nearby.  I told my two older boys to sample pizza while us girls use the potty.  Lo and behold, there was a line for two co-ed restrooms and a bit of a wait for both—which is NOT good for the next in line, am I right?  Yes.  My boys were already bored after their samples so I invited them to stay with us in line.  We waited and waited and waited.  Finally, our turn came after a bunch o' singles slo-o-o-owly sauntered out the stalls, and our party of four dashed in.

Sophia took the throne.  The boys talked about if they had to go or not go, big decisions for young boys.  I encouraged them to go.  My patience thinning, I said, "JUST GO!"  Nope, they are old enough to decide for themselves.  Aidan, the oldest, had decided to be in charge of the door.  Tristan decided to be in charge of lights.  The lights went out.  It's pitch black.  I barked, "OMG! What's going on?"  The lights flashed on for a split second, then off again.  Sophia, still on the pot, started screaming.  I said, "Aidan, open the door!"  "But, Mom, I can't see where the door is!"  Lights flashed on again.  And off again.
On. Off.
On. Off.
On. Off.
"Tristan, turn ON the lights!"  "But, Mom, I'm trying!!!"  The lights flashed back on for a second and I spotted the "cage" around the small light switch, and I spotted my son's even smaller finger desperately trying to turn the caged switch on/off, meaning this bathroom is really weird, and also that the lights will be off for the remaining customers.  Mama finally figured this out right quick, Friends, and we made a dash for it... after Sophia washed her hands, of course.

As you can imagine, my anxiety was elevated that day.  But I can happily say, I was with an anxiety unmatched to trying to over-cautiously carry my first born to his first baths.  This day's anxiety was much more fun.  We were in it together.  Me and my kids in the dark, the light, the dark, the light.  Little Sh*ts.

We landed home two and a half hours later... with no milk.

The sun had set.  The day was done.  The moon was full.  The night had come.

XOXO Breeze

New Day, New Story

A new day brings a new story. I have had many little mama stories to tell since my last blog. But no time to tell them. Sure, I could have made the time to write. But I didn't.  I felt a lot pressure to write on Mother's Day. This is a Mom Blog, after all. But I didn't. Geez, I should have at least sent a "shout out" to you moms the day after Mom's day, or at least an inquisitive, "Hey, fellow Mama, are you as tired-arse as me, today?" But I didn't.

I feel so guilty, but I know you understand. I am not a professional mom-blogger. Do not expect me to blog every day, that will not happen. I get moody, tired, distracted, in the least. Then, on top of that, life throws that curveball. Thankfully not directly at our family, but to a few of my close friends as of late. We all can relate to that. The rumor, the call, the announcement, the caringbridge site, and the worst news.

Some of our family friends are in the Valley of Darkness, not my favorite phrase, but it's universal... moving on.  We can and should help them in any way. And we do—through delivered meals, promises to babysit or chauffeur, and donations of any kind. To pray. To listen. To offer a shoulder to lean on or to cry on. We offer to help in any way, and we hope they take us for our word, yet we know they will not accept all of our promises.  But our promises are there for the taking. Unconditionally.

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My 4-year-old daughter brought home an "Owie Report" from preschool today.  Our preschool is parent-participation, so the note is signed by a fellow Mama. Among other scribbles, I read, "Sophia was very brave and cute as always!"  Hand-written green sharpie on a scrap of white paper.  And it is now one of my most valued treasures. Testament to her bravery... and cuteness. In ink. 2011.

We all warrant an "Owie Report" from time to time.  But us adults have to pretend that green sharpies on white paper won't cut it. To that I say, don't insult the intelligence of our youngest generation by not writing your thoughts down...now. Even if you are at the last option—and likely most important—option on the "Owie Report" typed:

"___Other   Explain___".

XO Breeze