Mom’s dragging us where?!

Backstory:

I’m pretty sick today. And not like man-cold sick. The kind that has my eyes half glazed over, 900 number raspy-esque voice, wishing someone would slice slits into my face to drain my sinuses and relieve the 600lb pressure.

I’m fine. It’s fine. We’re fine.

Still trying to be present with my family laying on the couch because I was gone this weekend, worked all day, and I love them.

Actual Story:

Cory (joking): “Just go take some NyQuil and try to get some sleep you’re dragging us all down.”

☝🏼please note the last word he used was DOWN. d.o.w.n.

That is not the word my kids heard.

Braxton (looking up from his iPad in shock at what his dad just said):

“MOMS DRAGGING US ALL TO HELL?!?? WHAT?!”

Braylon: “MOMMY WHY WOULD YOU DRAG US ALL TO HELL?!?!?”

Landon: “WE’RE GOING TO HELL? Can Lucy come?” 👈🏼 Lucy is our dog.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Morale of the story: be nice to your sick wife. And don’t make dumb dad jokes with a bunch of boys in the room who have mastered the art of the half-listen.

Don’t. Give. Up.

Allow me to preface this with the fact that all children are created with different talents, gifts, passions and abilities. Here’s another fun fact…. that also applies to twins.

We have 8 year old (in a few weeks) twin sons. One of them is an absolute physical beast of a child. He is an athlete by every definition, has a body made of essentially 99% muscle with thighs the size of tree trunks and excels at every sport he ever tries. We will call him Twin A. Twin B is much more petite. He is small but has a mighty, powerful mind. He is inquisitive and loves art and books and asks a thousand questions about everything.

That being said, at this age, we encourage them both to try everything that may interest them so they can develop and learn what they love and want to pursue in the future. Try all “the things” because who knows what you’ll enjoy. That’s our philosophy.

Right now, “the thing” is baseball. Coach pitch baseball. They both wanted to try it. Quietly my husband and I both knew Twin A would excel. As a twin parent (or any parent), there are few things more difficult than watching one child excel while the other struggles hard. But you continue to encourage and to cheer because that’s. what. you. do.

Twin A…. hits the ball every time. He’s getting better. He bats 4th, he is fast and his teammates cheer his name and celebrate him often. Twin B…. strikes out every time. 8 games, he has had one hit and it was accidental. His teammates don’t get excited when he comes up to bat or cheer because they assume he’ll strike out.

But listen carefully to this… he never, ever gives up. Never. He goes up to bat every time with confidence believing in himself. I love it so much.

You guys!!!! Here I sit 2 states away on my lunch break at a conference and I get a video from my husband of this beautiful boy getting his first hit and successfully making it to first base… his teammates cheering his name in the background.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m at this conference that is about never giving up on your goals or just because he finally got the hit but I am BEAMING with pride over here.

Those of you thinking about giving up, on anything, watch this. And then stop it.

You go Braxy! You did the dang thing!! Mommy is so proud of you and you are a rockstar.

Husband was right. Should have listened.

Me: Husband is out of town. A fun little slip n slide and pool sound like a great way to entertain the kids while I work Saturday.

**sends husband pictures of them playing happily and loving life**

Husband: “you’re going to regret that”

**Fast forward one hour**

Landon: “Umm mommy I think Lucy got a little muddy I might need your help”

Me:

Literally Me:

Last photo = what my dog is supposed to look like.

🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

Welp, there’s that.

While rushing from work to get the twins from the babysitter and to their baseball game on time (“on time” is relative), we ran through McDonald’s to get them something that would pass for food (again, ”food” is relative).

While there Landon (3) rolled down his window and loudly proclaimed to the woman at the drive through:

“Whoa lady I can see your nipples and they’re really big!”

So there’s that.

Life is savage. Choose happy.

So many things did not go right today.

Literally. So. Many. Things.

We dropped my husband off for a 4 day trip to Texas so I’m parenting solo. All 3 kids lost their minds the second he got out of the car. And not just ‘oh daddy’s leaving so we’re going to sort-of get cranky’. No we’re talking the kind of triple meltdown that makes you want to hold your breath until it’s over in hopes that you might pass out and miss the worst of it. They were immediately dyingofthirst, the wrong movie was on the DVD player (yes the built in DVD player…rough life kids), Landon was mad because the blue car beside us wasn’t red and the twins got into a completely necessary screaming match over who could read the billboards faster and better. On top of that O’Hare airport traffic tried to break my soul. And I mean actually slice it in half. People are savage.

But we made it home.

Nobody died.

It’s 9:55pm. I’m still in my work clothes and shoes. All my kids are asleep.

It’s a gorgeous night.

And I’m sitting on my deck smiling. Why?

Because I choose happy. That’s why.

Single parents- you are freakin rock stars. Trying to manage working full time, travel, kid transportation and extracurriculars while keeping everyone cleanish, fed and not killing each other is no joke.

The “Mom Chair” It folds. But it exudes stability.

Chairs come in all forms. Both metaphorically and literally. At work, I sit in an executive chair. Well… not exactly. I’m super picky about being comfortable at work so I sit in a brown leather chair I bought years ago and follows me. But you get the point. In 8th grade, I played the flute for a hot second and was 1st chair. That essentially means I was the best at playing the chromatic scale, but nothing else. On nonprofit boards, there are almost always committee chairs. I could keep going but you get it.

The most important chair I sit in coincides with the most important role in my life. It’s what I call “the mom-chair.” Y’all know what I’m talking about. One of those flimsy foldable chairs that comes in every shape and color with a string bag you have to get into a for-real wrestling match/swearing fight with yourself to put it away every time while trying to pretend you didn’t.

The quintessential sports mom must-have. Some of them are nicer than others. But don’t fool yourself. After the umpteenth baseball game, it doesn’t matter if it cost you $5 or $150.. that thing ain’t lasting more than one season. You see a line of them at every baseball, soccer, lacrosse and football game you’ve ever attended and ever will. Basketball and wrestling get a pass because they are typically indoors and come equipped with bleachers. So a simple butt-pad will do. Bonus points if your kid’s name and number are imprinted on it. I digress…

My point is not about the chair itself. It’s what the chair represents. We all have one. Or if you’re like me, you have 5. One for every car, one for the garage, one to keep on the deck and one as a backup to take to the end of the driveway to watch bicycle stunts and scooter relays (reference attached photo). You can NEVER forget your mom-chair.

But why? Because it’s super important to have a place to sit with your coffee/discretely hidden cocktail on one side and your car keys and matchbox cars in the zippered other side? No. Because if you’re super fancy it offers you shade in the sun? No.

Here is the why…Because when you’re sitting in the mom-chair, you are present. You are watching. You are there. And regardless of what you’re sitting on, your kids are looking for you. Your face, your smile, your air high-five, your screaming at the umps/refs (eh-hem…totally not me…eh-hem).

Your mom-chair folds up and packs away after every game or performance, but the memory of you being there will never go away. It exudes stability.

Rock that mom-chair with confidence and grace. And girl… replace it as many times as you need to cause Lord knows I’ve had a dozen over the years.

Be there. Be present. Be the mom-chair.

To all New Moms of Multiples… You WILL survive this.

Dear new moms of twins and multiples,

Read this carefully (in your 42 seconds of free time between rotating your children amongst the 14 seats, bouncers and toys to stop the crying). You will survive this. You will find your footing. You will get to sleep again. It does get more manageable. You will find you again. And your babies will thrive.

Your life will not always revolve around coordinating feeding and nap schedules, taking walks with your giant double stroller to maintain your sanity, leaving parties and get togethers early with your 27 bags that you’ve packed your entire life in to survive the outing. Hand washing 96 pieces of 345 bottles every day will not last forever. If you’re tandem nursing, God bless you… you will not always feel like a milk cow I promise. Diapers will not always be the bane of your existence. You will not always look at moms of singletons and think how easy that must be. It’s not easy for any new mom. You have more than one small person to raise at exactly the same time and you… you are superhuman. Don’t you ever forget that.

Those first 12 months will be a blur. The next 12 will be a whirlwind because now they’re mobile and you’ll feel as though you’ve lost all control and are herding sheep. You won’t remember the details. But you will look back at pictures and pieces of clothing or toys and remember the emotions.

To the moms of multiples, you are doing something that is impossible. But you’re doing it. And you are killing it. You will survive this. And sooner than you realize, you will be eternally grateful your little one has a built in best friend.

Sincerely,

Mom of 8 year old twins (stage 2 in life)

Weathering the Storm?

Last night it was thundering. Loudly.
I don’t do storms. If you know me you know this.
A huge crack of thunder hit and my 3 year old came running into our room to see if I was ok (not the other way around) and said:
“it’s ok mommy God’s just coughing.”

It was in that moment I knew this little boy is going to change the world.

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