I am not perfect and neither are you

So here it is... Not a rant, but a wake up call. I am a chubby mom. I am apple shaped and it could be worse. For some reason I cannot name- ok, I could but I don't have time this morning as I get ready- I have learned to hate the way I look. It has taken me almost 36 years to hate myself, starve myself and obsess every minute and then in the last few years since children learn to reverse the loathing. 

When I looked like this at 18, I hated myself the most. The thinner I got, the angrier I was that I was not thinner- and let's face it, starving yourself does not send you to nirvana. However, this happy memory was tainted with how unfinished I was as a person and how desperate I was with longing. I haven't hit nirvana yet but here is me now, days from my 36th birthday. Twice the time, twice the experience. Marriage and kids, degrees and less travel than I would like but still- this face says I have lived.

As a mother to three girls, I want them to NOT self-loathe. They need to put themselves together and be ready for their chosen professions but try don't have to be Gisele-beautiful for me to be happy with them.

Oh, of course not, you think.

Uh huh. So why do you expect yourself to attain that status? Why are we women striving so damn hard to be supermodels? You are not 17 anymore? Stop trying to look that way! Let it go a little and enjoy becoming a person with wrinkles and a grey hair in your eyebrow you cannot explain. I am not saying be unhealthy but I am saying please be more realistic. Driving yourself batty over the pounds you must lose does not communicate to your daughter, sisters, friends that you care about WHO you are, but rather HOW YOU LOOK. Sorry, Ford Models probably wont be knocking. It's ok. Let it go.

  In defense of Gisele- that girl is gorgeous and admitted in a photo it takes a team. It is her JOB to look that amazing. We buy her magazines and secretly wish to look like her yet I hear lots of hate press about her. "Who does she think she is?" This is where feminism comes to die, my friends. Not in a song a guy sings  about good girls toying with sexuality but in our cruelty to one another. 

  We women are a force! We go to work with raging cramps and get it done, for less pay than others. We have babies and then proceed to raise human beings with others or alone.

  If we stopped buying in to the physical stereotypes and catty teardowns, what else could we accomplish? Woman president? More peace, less war? It is endless possibilities.

Every day you get up, look in the mirror and make a choice. Don't discard all personal hygiene- not my point- but are you only getting ready for someone else? Are you driving yourself crazy and no one expects you to look like you think they expect you to look? What is happening while you are cruel to others and yourself? Are you missing out on the authenticity of life?

It is a brief time we get. I choose to stop hating myself and be a kick ass teacher. It will make me a better wife/mother/ human.

That is what I believe. What do you think?

What is a teacher with no students?

So the school year has ended and I have survived. My family unit has survived and I have... A good reference. That's it. Well, I have awesome memories of my time teaching, my students surprising me and great fellow teachers I admire and a few... I am glad to escape. (Shudders)

  Mainly I am left with many unanswered questions. A lot of "what now?" And "what will I do in September?" I know I have plenty of time and all that but I just can't enjoy my summer with my fall in such doubt. Teacher irony right there. 

  My aunt is a great believer in St Anthony. She swears he always helps her. She's on the case to find a job for me. I have over 100 applications out. I have to wonder if the universe is telling me something. My uncle who passed away not that long ago would tell me I am an idiot for doubting myself. I wish he were here to tell me so. 

  And then I think about the way many of my students stay in touch. The way they hoped I had learned my fate before school ended; even the way they actually enjoyed MacBeth- well, some days. I find I am actively editing this as I go, remembering and pestering myself mentally to set a good example as a writer even if this is just my blog. After all, I am an English teacher. If not on staff, then in my soul. 

   The thing is- I always yearned to be a mom. I am. Now I realize how much I absolutely love the torture of being a teacher as well. The frustration of maybe never getting to do that is a physical weight around my brain right now. All decisions are paralyzed as we wait and see... 

What more could I have done for my family? What more could I have done for my students? I wake up thinking these two questions so often, it may have to be the epitaph on my headstone.

Praying for some good news....

2:48 am uh oh

It was a late night at our house- Bruins hockey and Dancing With The Stars... So we got to bed later than usual. 

2:48am.... I was awakened by a smell. A fecal related smell. I heard a distinctive voice calling, "Dadda!!" 

So I did the logical thing.

I sent my husband in there.

It was literally a shit show. 

Oh. My. God.

Not another one!!!! Our beautiful chubby cherub was sporting poop booties and crap mittens- and that is saying nothing of her bed- poop valley. 

Her breath smelled clean.

We were a great team- he took her for a hosing and I did the CSI work cleaning up. Thank god for bleach wipes. 

20 hours later and we have swabbed the decks long ago but I tell you I can still smell the poop. 

So much poop. 

The good side is I learned from a friend that if said cherub accidentally ingested any fecal matter it won't hurt her since it's her own. Not as helpful for the hubby who got a tiny hand shoved in his mouth during the flailing, wailing shower. 

I am keeping a onesie on that kid and my fingers crossed for the hubby. I will keep you posted.

Pretty sure I will wake terrified around 2:30 in the morning and check that kiddo. Gonna take me a while to forget.

Motivation

Oh wisdom you mischievous vixen, you do desert a gal when she needs it most. Ironically, I have been railing at both kin and student alike about motivation lately. "It's the long-term goal, not momentary fun that matters", and now I am looking for my own kick in the pants to get moving so I feel less awful and get all that needs to be done.... Well, done. 

I blame the couch. And pretty much everything else. Damn, I think this one is on me, huh? 

 So what do you do to get motivated? Do tell please, and talk loud so I can hear your wisdom over the Siren song of my couch... Thanks.

It's our day!

Well, ladies, this is it. It's Mother's Day. Yup, we get one day. And as you know, we get adorable cards and homemade gifts, and even breakfast in bed. Growing up, we didn't celebrate any holidays so my Mom's reaction to the morning phone call was, "It's just another day." WHEE!!!
   Here is the thing about that response, there is a kernel of perspective in that anti-fun response to my wishing her a good day. It IS just another day. So many people are appreciative of their moms though they never met, miss their departed moms, and wish they could be moms. For them, this is another day that reminds each of them of what they do not have.
   This does not mean I am advocating for all of us to give up our day, but please keep all of the other friends and family who may be sad on this day in your hearts and phone trees.

Oh, and have a glass of wine when you want. It's MOM O'CLOCK!!!! :D

Good help is hard to find

I am not sure when exactly it happened, but it's official. I have become my own worst nightmare. Is it the 24 hour schedule and grueling chores? Is the inexactitude of the current economic climate? Is it my own chemical compound of crazy and bitch? I don't know but I do know that while I am laboring away trying to maintain "nice mommy", the bitch slipped out the back door and left.

I remember dreaming of being a mom, pining for this like my fat ass now does for flourless chocolate cake. Man, I dreamed and prayed for these sweet, healthy kiddos. So why the hell are they making me so nuts!?!?!?  I have no idea but it could have something to do with the insane pacing with which they arrived one every two years until we now possess three mouthy little cutie-pies with my attitude and their daddy's good looks.

When an old woman- or your own mother- warns you that "Motherhood is a tough job", for pete's sake LISTEN TO THAT BITCH!!!! I am telling you, I am grateful. Recent tragedies prove that you are never grateful enough and you never know when your last day could be so you hold those babies tight. Yeah, yeah, yeah.... I know all this stuff. I feel it. I just can't hold onto it when the five-year-old has burrowed her way into my spot on the bed AGAIN for a potentially fake bad dream and I haven't slept well at all. The baby is demanding food or else, the middle one is crying because lint touched her hair and I still haven't had my damn coffee. And then from the minute they wake up it is go GO GOOOOO!!!!

It is no wonder a good friend of mine vacations alone. I said it. ALONE. The closest thing I have had to a vacation in the last few years is... do trips sans children to the grocery store count?!? I think it could be the tragedy in Boston or the presence of a white hair in my eyebrow or just that time of my cranky mood but I am in need of a margarita and a dance floor!!!!

OK.
I have now blathered on and if you are still reading, maybe you need a margarita. I am now cheersing the screen with my tasteful 6 oz of chardonnay. (clink) Listen, all of the things that people warn you about motherhood... they are true. It is the hardest job ever. You will NEVER be paid. Most times you are so run down and tired you forget to put on deoderant or change the pants covered in baby yogurt. You will laugh one minute and cry the next, sometimes for no good reason. You will love and loathe the children and hate yourself for it all. You may think it isn't your style and that I am crazy. Yes, dear, I did admit that. The one thing I am, is brutally honest. Motherhood is NOT for the faint of heart. You better love your husband a great deal and be "on the same page" or you will HATE this experience. You will need good friends to drag you away and force stupid manicures on hands that will be ruined within hours from baby vomit, dish soap or just your own general clumsiness. You will cry when you see Dove's beauty campaign commercials and become overly sentimental anytime you see a child is lost or killed. You will look at your single or childless or woman-with-less-children-than-you counterpart and think... bitch.

So why WHY WHYYYYY do we keep allowing our uteruses to become peopled? I don't know. My husband is extremely attractive and I can't seem to keep my legs together in the early spring. Whatever your reason is, do yourself and your fellow sisters a favor. Stop judging. Don't look at me when I am scolding my adorable three year old at the park and think, "Oh, I am so much better than that psycho." You aren't. We both know that. Don't be a bad single friend who never offers free babysitting. Having kids makes you poor. And we marrieds need a break.

And mothers,please, stop feeling superior. We are badly dressed, largely unwashed, seriously cranky masses. Quit pretending to be 17 when your skin tells the truth. We are over 30. We are not our young selves. Get comfortable in that stretched out skin, chica. It fits much better. Have a glass of wine- I find it makes the wrinkles blur a bit. :D

Be kind to each other and yourself. And Just keep trying to do better. You are doing a good job already.

Uh, okay. That was a pep talk to myself. Hope you enjoyed.

Sh$! I say to my kids...

Without any preamble or context.. Here are ten good ones...

"Don't put your mouth on your sister's poopy diaper!"

"Where did you get that? We haven't been to McDs in weeks!!! (Honest.)

"I said you couldn't color on your body, and that includes your sister too!!"

"Does that taste like poop? No? Then eat it!"

"Your new mommy will be here any second. I am calling her right now!!!"

"If you are thirsty, suck on your own spit."(Courtesy of my own mother. Perhaps she inherited this goody as well?)

"Don't touch your vagina without washing your hands!"

"Don't rub my sunglasses on your vagina!"

"Where is the baby?!?!" (Hiding right next to me. Dang butt.

"You like it here so much, you can live here. Bye!" (At babysrus, she called my bluff.)

This is only the first edition... You're welcome. :)