Hello.

I suck at doing things like promoting myself or telling people about the things I’m doing, so I guess my choice to make a Facebook page for this site was a meager attempt at getting people to share this stuff. Ya know, make you all do the work for me, because I’m awkward and a weirdo. So, if you all are feeling inclined to share my stuff, by all means, do it. Here’s the Facebook page, if you want updates on the blog, and maybe just our life in general.

Click here for the Facebook page.

Anyway, I haven’t really done anything about me, specifically, and I guess I’m thinking it’s time to tell all of you about myself.

 

First of all, I’m 26. I’ve never really had very many friends, and I’ve always been kind of introverted, so the few people I would call my friends aren’t even people I know. They’re women from a few local mom groups who I seem to click with, but never really do anything with. I’m also just about the nerdiest of the nerds. I absolutely love to read. I love historical documentaries. I spend my rare freetime playing games like The Sims (I’m a die hard Sims fan). I’m also weirdly obsessed with both the Holocaust and medieval times. Grim, eh? Before kids, I played tennis and skied on occasion, but I’m a severe homebody, so as I got older, that became pretty infrequent.

I’m also incredibly stubborn. To those who really know me, I’m incredibly argumentative. I’m impatient in a big, bad way, and impulsive. My husband is a very lucky man. I have some pretty heavy social and general anxiety, so I’m a pretty high-strung person in general. I’m also a pessimist and I enjoy being sarcasm more than anything in the world. But I’d say my best trait is my determination. Now that I write all of this out, it feels more like a rap sheet, but I swear, in my eyes, all of these traits are good ones. Except for the anxiety. I could do without that nonsense from time to time.

I had my kids at 23 and 25. My first kid was very, very unexpected. My second was super planned. We’re officially done having kids, and I have not an ounce of baby fever. I always wanted kids, even from a young age, and even though it’s been a lot different than I would have expected, it’s been the best experience of my life. My kids are my happiness. They bring me so much joy, and I live to see the way they maneuver and conquer their world.  I love our family the way it is, and I’m happy that my kids came to me in the ways they did. I couldn’t have written this chapter any better if I tried.

 

As you all know, I’m a stay-at-home mom, and there are times that it feels like that’s all that defines me. But writing this all out, I’m remembering there is a lot more to me. So, thanks for reading. This blog has done good things for my mental health, and I’m grateful each time someone takes the time so read.

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Grocery shopping is a nightmare.

I don’t do it often, but on occasional I become so delusional that I believe I can manage grocery shopping with 2 small kids. Grocery shopping with my little heathens is clearly well outside the scope of my parenting abilities. It’s been proven to me every time I attempt it. And for some stupid reason, I keep coming back for more.

My grocery shopping experience has 4 stages:

  • Over-confidence: As we pull up to the store, children smiling, sippy cups in hand, Starbucks in tow, I’m feeling pretty good. This is usually the point where I’m telling myself a number of lies, centered around the fact that past failures were just a fluke. We’re going to be just fine today. -Insert eye roll so heavy I can see my brain- As we enter the store with my list in hand, cart chock-full of small people, and hair quickly reaching homeless-level dishevelment just from the sheer effort of wrestling both kids from a car seat and into a cart, I begin seeing my flaw. This is where step two comes in.
  • Errors have been made: My toddler is tearing up all the things I put in the cart, or handing them up to her baby sister to gnaw violently on, while she lets out her first of many war cries. I soon realize this is not going to work, and that said toddler will need to walk. Remember, it will be FINE. Let’s get her on the floor. “No, wait, don’t slam that man’s cart into his own shin! Please don’t run to the next aisle! Put that back on the shelf! That’s not ours, hand that back to the woman you stole it from, please! Don’t eat that off the floor! Don’t lick the floor, either! You have to go potty again?!” Why didn’t I bring a carrier? Why didn’t I foresee this? How many mistakes must I make? Why does the baby cry at the worst possible time? Great, she pooped her pants.
  • F*!k this: This is about the time that I start making statements like “If you can’t be nice, we can’t get your chocolate almond milk” or “Fine, then we’re putting it all back and leaving with nothing”. This is literally the most stupid thing I’ve ever said, because anyone who knows me (my own kids included) knows I refuse to leave that store until everything I need is in my cart. I’m just not capable of walking away from work I’ve already done. So they call my bluff. Again and again and again. And I make weak threats that no one gives two sh!ts about. And then I rage-weep, and I walk through the aisles, corralling my monsters and ignoring hateful stares while L piles unnecessary crap into the cart, that I’ll eventually need to re-route to return to it’s home.
  • I’m never, ever doing this again: When we get to the cart, no less than 5 hours from the time we arrived, looking broken, feeling pretty butthurt/murderous, I vow, THIS will be the end. THIS was the last straw. THIS is the lesson I needed. Now I just need to get us home in a route that bypasses anything that MIGHT sell chicken nuggets. As I do so, I convince myself that no matter how hungry we are, it can wait the 8 hours of my husband’s work shift. This IS the last time.

 

I’m not a particularly stupid person, so I rarely take my kids to the store with me if I can avoid it. But I might be a little crazy, because I keep doing the same thing and expecting different results. I’m at the point where I’m unsure if I’ll ever be able to take them into public places before they reach adulthood. It seems unlikely.

I’ve heard it before, and every time it’s been said to me, I laugh hysterically in my head at it, that if you just keep taking them out, they eventually learn to behave in public. Based on my experiences, my children level up in ridiculousness each time we pull into a Kroger parking lot. So, to those of you who look like hot messes in the grocery store… Solidarity. It’s all I have to offer. And those of you who pretend to have your crap together, please don’t judge the rest of us when we look like fools. Best wishes to my fellow parents trying not to fall apart in a Giant Eagle.

Too much to do. No time to do it.

As a stay-at-home mom, I end up with the lion’s share of the household chores, simply by default since I’m here much more frequently. To anyone without kids, chores basically look like this: clean your dishes, wash your clothes, occasionally sweep the floors. For parents, this is like a laughable list of impossible tasks. At least when your kids are small & they choose to undo everything you’ve ever accomplished in your house with a simple bowl of Cheddar Bunnies.

My chore list is ridiculous. Ridiculous in that it’s ridiculous it hasn’t given me an aneurysm yet. It goes as follows:

  • Do the dishes. All 47 Replay bowls that the toddler needed for 506 different foods, all of which are less than half eaten. Oh, wait. The baby just came & spit up in the dishwasher. That’s cool, right? I mean, it’s supposed to wash the dishes anyway… Right?
  • Wash, dry and fold the clothes. Except the toddler needs, NEEDS, to load the washer for you. And doesn’t know how to use laundry bags. So everything goes in together. Even the poop covered stuff, which is inevitable when you have two kids under 3. Cool. Hanging things on a drying rack is a delight when everything you hang gets ripped down 3 seconds later in a damp mess on the floor. And folding… Wow. That’s a special event. It’s not even describable how disastrous folding can be with two small kids in tow.
  • Take the dog out. Clean the cat litter box. Feed the animals, don’t forget the fish. Why did I sign on the keep track of so many people that aren’t myself? Why am I in charge of no less than FOUR small creatures & their feces? Have kids, they say. Get pets, they say. It’ll all be so rewarding. Except they leave out the part where no less than half your day is figuring out whose poop this is, and why it’s in the living room floor, and why everyone smaller than you gets a larger share of the food budget than you do. Rude.
  • Sweep and mop the floors. 900 times a day. Because all 47 of those Replay bowls you just put in the dishwasher were spilled on the floor prior to their journey to the kitchen sink/counter. How anyone with toddlers, us included, aren’t host to at least 5 different types of rodent is nothing short of a miracle.
  • Clean every other area of the house. Except that once I finish cleaning the same crap over and over all day, there isn’t any time to clean anything else. Unless I never sleep.

The point is… Stay in the main living area of my house. I’m not honestly sure I’m even getting anything done. This could be some sort of mind game the house & kids are playing on me to see how long they can run me into the ground before I crack. That’s fine, I guess.