Thursday, December 5, 2013

She's Baaaack...

Okay, so I am way of the writing game. But...I'm back. This is new and I hope you like it; I decided to change my title because 1. we no longer have a cat (thank. You. Jesus). 2. The kitchen isn't as dirty as it used to be and 3. I'm in a different place. Literally, we've moved and things are different-good. Don't worrrrry--the bathrooms are simply teeming, teeming I tell you, with dirt, boy pee, and every other kind of amoeba there probably is in Western America. Plenty of dirty talk right there, I say! So...I am calling this Victory In The Making because, I feel very much in my mother heart, I set my sights on victory for our children. Victory for their generation and future ones to come; victory for our world in general. I know what you're thinkin', "No pressure, kids! Just be crazy Christian fanatics and saaaaave usss!" No, no, no--don't freak out on me. I mean, as parents, we personally desire to be victorious (not to be confused with perfect or ever-unfailing) for them in our raising them with good holy, healthy, joyful choices so that they can live by those ways, victoriously. In many ways, this blog won't really change from how it was before...I am still...ME (dammit, really?! I'm outta here!), but with more perspective, comes hopefully more wisdom and thoughtfulness. I dunno; you'll tell ME if it sucks or not ha! Anyway, ENOUGH of all this slow-going mumbo-jumbo--on to tales! Tales of parental woe, tales of grocery treachery; tales of...whining.

This is called, "An American Problem-Kind-Of-Sob-Story":
Ambitious Mama decides to volunteer for not one, but *two* different kids' bake sales. Ambitious Mama didn't realize she was slightly mentally delayed when she made this decision (I mean with that delay, how *could* she?). Then, she forgot half the ingredients at the store. So she went again, where her children single-handedly gained like FIVE consequences for their pooooor poor choices...all before even making it to the King Soopers parking lot.  (Ex of a "pooooor choice": child 1 with the big gut screaming he's about to jump outta his window because he's "staaaaahving" and child 2 chucking his shoe at the driver. Her name at this point changed to Ticking Timebomb Mommy. And none of these bode well for Handsome Husband because the poor guy's a psychologist. Yeah; you'd think he could have had insight not to buy the family package at IKEA that was called, "It Only Gets Crazier".  Wait--they don't sell families at IKEA? Huh. Well then, TOTALLY his fault for marrying me mwamwamwa!)
 Back to the grocery store: Let's just say the highlights of the store were Ticking Timebomb Mommy catching her two-year old in mid-air as he leapt toward the cookies and, being called a pervert from some 9 year old boy because poor ol' TTM had to extract shoe-chucking-child FROM the men's bathroom. He was apparently having a ball in there; dancing nude in a bathroom is, contrary to every parent's belief, fun and "doesn't feel unsafe at all." Now we have Looney Eye Twitch Mommy. Phrases/noises include: growls of anger, prayers of "Dear GOD!", "Raw meat is NOT for biting!" and many things unmentionable. At this point, she didn't care if she was buying jock-itch cream or the chocolate chips that were the intended purchase. It's important to mention that, it took approximately five minutes for all of this crap to go down in the store, and twenty to reload every child back into the car because those confounded coats won't LETYOULOCKTHEFLIPPINGBUCKLE GAA!!! (Ahem. Sorry; sometimes I forget to release my trauma by drinking a hot toddy...)
There was much screaming, crying, and weeping and gnashing of teeth (and that's that the little sinners were allowed back IN for crying out loud!), and mean words like. "You are MEEEAN MOMMY!" because I simply just simply would not whip up a three course meal while carrying a giant heavy baby in carrier with groceries, while it was negative 5 degrees. Yeah, I should totally call myself in. Sigh. I know you folks reading this have gotta feel me, right??
It's not that there is ONE specific thing that is just "soo bad" or negative or awful; it's that over the course of an entire day of every little thing going wrong, one tends to kind of snap and desire to punch one's self in the face and light one's own hair on fire. Well, for those of you who have read my posts of yore, you know how I feel about cooking. I have to say, since learning that I am pre-diabetic, I have given up gluten for the most part, and gone fairly Paleo and am actually...*beginning to enjoy cooking...shhhhh! I am whissspering--don't you DARE read it aloud!* But it's still a LOT to get used to. So, I spent the WHOLE morning making this Easy No Bake All In Five Minutes! recipe, and finally after neglecting my children and losing them to Nickelodeon, I achieved my sort-of Paleo Peanut Butter Truffles. Loaded dysfunctional kids ("WHY do I HAVE to wear a coat, Mommy?!"
Um...because it's cold? Because you could get frostbite? BECAUSE I SAID SOOO!), who really are like herding cats, nearly lost my pants because surprise! Someone left a giant HOSE out before the snow and guess who got tangled in it with her stupid boots?? Then, there were the trash bins. Ohhhh, you sneaky sneaky dastardly trash bins! Okay; I have a problem. It's called, "I don't always look behind me when I back out". Yeah, it's BAD. I know I know--don't judge me. I'm working on it. But in my defense, WHY do the trash people always have to set the bins RIGHT square in the middle of the flipping driveway?! Do they drive down the street just to watch me hit them?!
Anyway, I don't realize until we get to school, that the non-baked-baked goods are...smiggity smashed. Death-by-Sam's-Rotisserie-Chicken smashing. I wanted to cry. A lot. But it was too cold. And my eyelashes would have broken off. So I held onto my falling-off pants, the baby, and my smashed goods (the non-baked-baked ones, not my boobs) and trudged all the way around. Guess what I saw on the door?

"Attention parents: It's ICY! Therefore, this doorway's closed until we can get salt out on it--please go around."

REEEEALLY?!?! I stared at it. I stared at it and half-willed it to explode into flames so that it would cause a fire alarm, and then the doors would open. Luckily, a kind soul helped me carry the kids (God bless that woman!) and I'm pretty sure my eyelashes broke off. The babe and I went back home, and I made a decision. I decided to be victorious. I realized, it really had nothing to do with proving anything to anyone, that I could etc., but it was a tiny moment of a big realization for me. I realized that in these little things, I'm given control (because anyone who sees my house knows I am outta control there). No one would have blamed me for crying and giving up on a bake sale. In fact, I think the preschool director thought I was a little nuts or one of "those moms" that try to be perfect. Well true, I have perfectionism issues but luckily, I generally have so much humility given me by kids, it's nearly impossible ha! I explained to the director when faced with her concerned look, that I did not go through trouble because I felt I "had to please anyone" but because, my name means "victorious in spirit" or "victory among the people" and I wasn't going to let that down today.
I feel very strongly, that when we can persevere in a little trial, it builds us for the big ones, and reminds us we don't have to give up. In this little way today, I just knew that if I could make again what was lost (or smiggity smashed), I'd be choosing victory and conquering defeat. And, I can say, the rest of my day did NOT get better or I should say, it was wrought with challenge that left me fantasizing about knocking myself out with a frying pan--but I carried a peace within that I could do this job. Sometimes, that's the only thing I desire.

1 comment:

  1. The line that hit me the most was "we don't have to give up." Thanks for sharing, sweetheart! You have a gift. xxoo