I'm a Better Mom When I'm Drunk, Foster Care & Morals.

I fully realize that the title of this post could potentially cause an uproar. I also fully realize that my blog tends to be a plethora of mooshy-gooshy babble on how much I love being a mother. And, I mean every.single.word.of.it.

But guess what?

If you knew me in real life, you would probably laugh your ass off when reading about all my emotions. 'Cause in real life, I don't share that kind of shit (with anyone other than my children). In fact, my very best friend in the whole wide world told me to keep my mouth shut when shopping for our best friend's wedding dress the other day. Apparently, I am too blunt and occasionally mean. Wah. Wah. The truth comes out....

So, in a weird way, I am embarrassed when people (who know me personally) read my blog. My blog holds my secrets and my truths....my insides. On the outside, I am different. I can be hard. I can be closed off. And I curse....a lot.

On here, I let my emotions seep through my veins and onto the page. I feel naked, exposed, and raw. I let it all hang out.

Now on to the real story.

I was sitting at a table in a Chinese restaurant in the downtown of my hometown with 5 of my best friends from High School. We were the loud, obnoxious ladies drinking Scorpian bowls with far reaching straws and asking the waiters to take our pictures. 

We were those women who you absolutely hate unless you are one of them. We laugh too hard, we quote too many movies, we harvest too many inside jokes, we finish too many sentences and we fully admit to being a stone cold pack of weirdos. We wear that title with pride, damnit. And with little puddles of pee in our panties from laughing too hard (oh wait, that may be just me after four children.) Scratch that.

Anyway, I was talking to my friend Ceire about how Matt (my husband) would come pick us up in the minivan with all of my children if we drank too much. Now, before you judge me for being irresponsible, please note that I would have only resorted to this as a last case scenario. In the end, I stopped drinking, sobered up and drove home with a clear head and conscious. 

As my friends and I were laughing about what a scene it would be to have Mommy and her best friend stumble into the family minivan, I jokingly stated that Jackson would probably be psyched about the fact that we would undoubtedly be pretty fun to hang out with. You know, we would blast music, sing too loud and throw our inhibitions out the window along with our pride. A kid's dream.

I went on to tell my friends that I am a better Mom when I'm drunk. Of course, this was an exaggerated and buzzed version of the truth. However, one time, after 2 or 3 glasses of wine, Jackson and I went upstairs to my room and did ninja moves off my bed. You know, we were jumping as high as we could and rocketing ourselves off with ninja kicks and “hi-yahhs” He told me I was the Best. Mom. Everrrrr. I typically do not participate in ninja kicks off my bed without wine, but rather, I try to encourage safer and less obtrusive activities. 

So, while we were laughing about how gosh darn funny it is that I am a better Mom when I'm drunk, we had a women stumble up to our table. She was completely shit-faced. She was slurring her words and rambling on about how nice it was to see a group of girls together. She thought we were in High School. We assured her that while we were all High School friends, we were all far and above the legal drinking age...hence the Scorpian bowls. 

Someone mentioned that I was a mother, which ultimately sparked the moral of this story.

She was a foster parent turned adoptive mother of a 9 year old. How sweet, I thought, until she started to go on and on about how horrible the past year of her life has been and how difficult her daughter was to deal with. She very bluntly said, “she's a huge pain in my ass.”

Just then, my tunnel vision zeroed in on a beautiful little girl who was sitting at the bar alone. Her big green eyes looked too wise for her age, and her chestnut hair looked too snarly to be clean. She sat slouched and resting on one hand, staring over at us with her ears perked and listening. It became absurdly clear that the drunk women speaking to us was her mother, and that she was the "pain in the ass." She looked like an angel to me. She looked like someone who was lost and straining to find comfort. She looked like she needed someone to tell her that she was not a pain in the ass at all. 

I cannot believe that I had the audacity to say that I was a better Mom when I was drunk. I cannot believe that I spoke those words when there was a child sitting at a bar, wishing that her mother would stop drinking, and that she could spend her Saturday night at home on the couch, watching movies and eating pizza like any normal 9 year old. I cannot believe that I could not stand up, drag her out and watch that movie with her, sharing blankets and laughter. Instead, I put my drink down, stood up, and as a walked past her with my heart crumbling to pieces on the floor, all I could scrummage up to say was a very simple “goodbye beautiful” and a smile that I can only hope proved to her that someone in the world felt for her. That someone in the world acknowledges that she deserves more than that. She does.

(And for what it's worth, the mooshy-gooshy of it all, the feelings and emotions that this little child pours out of me just thinking about her are worth spewing onto this page, despite how naked it makes me feel. That little girl deserves someone to advocate for her. She deserves someone to feel for her. And who am I to hold that in because I am too afraid to say how I feel?) 



To see more beautiful faces of children currently in need of loving homes in the United State, please visit adoptuskids.org. 

10 Ways to be a Better Mom Everyday

I am constantly comparing myself to other mothers. I spend too much time at my computer writing and editing pictures. I pin more educational activities than I actually do with my children. I spend more time thinking about being a better mom, than I do trying to be one.

But the truth is that I want to be a better Mom. My children deserve the very best.

It starts with me...not my children. Sure, I can teach my boys to be respectful and help my daughters grow into confident women, but at the end of the day, if I do not keep myself happy, I am no good to them. They need me. 

Did you hear me? Our babies need us. We need to keep our flow...our juju. We need to stay healthy, focused and well balanced. We need to remember that we matter and that we are separate entities from our beautiful children. Here are my 10 reminders on how to be the best version of Momma I can be for my kiddos. 
 

1. Rise and shine. Wake up before the children, have lunches packed, breakfasts ready and clothes picked out for the day. Be showered, refreshed and geared with your morning cup of coffee. Or two. 

 2. Energize. Coffee...absolutely. But be certain to energize with good foods to: an apple, a banana or some yogurt -- pick your pleasure. Take vitamins, drink water and remember that you matter. If you want to be around for your children's lives, you need to take care of yourself. Set a good example. And for goodness sake, take a minute to hear only the sound of your chews. It is pure joy.

3. Stay on time. Try to never run late. Running late equals a mean mommy. It means a disturbance of peace and chaotic children. Keep to the schedule, watch the clock, and stay focused. You can do this.

4. Don't sweat the small stuff. Messy faces and spilt milk won't matter 10 years from now. We have wipes, towels and the rest of our lives. Look around and find what really matters right now. 

 5. Stay active. Get up off your bum. Dance in the living room. Play tag in the kitchen. Go exploring outside. Act. Do. Be a participant in your children's lives. I guarantee you will have more fun twirling with your daughter than sitting on the couch. Plus, it keeps your heart young.

6. Unplug for dinner. No phones, no iPads, no disturbances whatsoever. Sit, talk, discuss, debate, question; and more importantly, listen. Listen to everything. The big. The small. The good. The bad. Keep your eyes up and your heart open. 

7. Run on a schedule. Always be prepared for what is coming next. Know the drill. Hold your children to it. Life runs smoother when you know what to expect. 

8. Go with the flow. I know, I know, I just said stick to a schedule. But sometimes, life gets in the way. If your child suddenly becomes interested in an insect crawling outside, get out the magnify glasses and join them. Take life as it comes. Enjoy it. Life is too short to always follow these rules. 

9. Learn from yesterday. Hopefully there were ups, but certainly there were downs. Learn from them and move on. Just keep swimming.

10. Be ready for tomorrow. Tomorrow is coming whether you are ready for it or not. Be ready for it. Be excited for it.  

You don't have to like your children. Right?

I wrote this post about 3 years ago. Now, as I re-read my words and realize that I didn't know Luke had autism at the time (he was diagnosed one year after this), I'm a little sad by my words and impatience. But if nothing else, this proves that motherhood is a journey, not a destination and you never know where the next path will lead. For the record, now he's my favorite child. Don't tell the others. 

So my husband and I were having quite a laugh last night. As Luke, our beast of a 2 year old was throwing himself off our bed, head first and screeching at the top of his lungs at 10:30 pm, we started to vent. "He sucks," I said. "Seriously, where did we go wrong?" My husband agreed and we laughed a little at the thought of hating the child who we both loved so much. I am pretty sure one of us even openly debated whether or not it would be THAT bad if he fell so hard he knocked himself out for just a bit-- after all, we could both use a break. My husband had worked all day and I had spent the day wrestling Luke at Target to stay in the cart, keeping him from suffocating the baby with his body, and continuously telling him to leave the dog poop in the backyard alone. What can I say, the kid has an obsession with the dog's poop.

I was done.

The kid pushes the limit and then goes a thousand leaps further --head first taking out anybody who gets in his way while thunking through life in his red boots. Those damn red boots that he never takes off. Even at 10:30 at night in MY bed.

You can bet your ass that when I get kicked in the face with red boots as I am just starting to doze off to sleep, the words, "I loathe this child," slips out between my gritting teeth as I try to hold my frustrations. 

So here is the issue: why is it not okay to say out loud that you think your child is a pain in the ass? Why is it only appropriate to speak their praises? Our children are human beings with strengths and weaknesses and as a parent, we shouldn't have to always like our child. We sure as hell better love em' regardless, but shouldn't it be okay to hate them just a little too?

I was reading this article on how American Parenting is Killing American Marriage and I could not help but relate to a lot of it. Why has our culture become so strict on parenting? Why do all of us moms have our claws out trying to prove who is the strongest Mama bear? When did parenting become THE ONLY topic of conversation? When did we stop considering our own needs and only focus on our children's? When did everyone's life become this perfect little Pinterest board on the outside?

Now, before you start hatin' on me, let me just say that I too have been told by my own husband that I need to stop revolving my life around our children-- that I am more than just their mother. I am just throwing that out there so that you all know I am not a horrible person.

Anyway, the article that I referred to above discusses how parenting has become this obsessive almost-cult like religion in which our culture clings to. In this parenting religion we are completely unable to speak of our children poorly, to say that we don't enjoy being a mother, or even just to yell at our children in public. It has become unacceptable to show any weakness or to let our guards down. Maybe it has something to do with social media and the fact that we all post these snip-its of our lives that are happy. Ya know? No one ever shares a picture of their toddler throwing sand in their face or a video of them saying the "F" bomb like a parrot right after you said it….that one time.

And we see these Pinterest boards and blogs that make life look so colorful and organized and we start comparing ourselves to others. Then our competitiveness breaks in and we all strive to be. the. best. mom. and that means that we must all keep our shoulders up, eyes forward and pretend that we are marching through motherhood like it ain't no thang.

I wish we would all just stop for a second and get real. Let's start sharing pictures of our children throwing tantrums on the floor. Let's start pinning blog posts like this that tell it like it is. Let's instagraming the reality of having children--- you know, the piles of laundry in the corners, bath toys spewed all over the bathroom floor, and goldfish between the couch cushions. I want to see the chaos. Show me the chaos.

Let's stop sugar coating motherhood for just a moment and allow each other to vent through it without judgment. I want to be able to tell you that today sucked without you thinking I am a whackadoo or a bad mother.

Honestly, I cannot remember the last time I heard another mother yell at her children in public; even when her children are throwing sand buckets at her head and throwing tantrums in the middle of a quaint little family beach.

I know I don't yell in public. Nope, I shoe my children to the car, playfully telling them to get in and to "stop misbehaving" in my calmest voice. I keep my shoulders up, eyes forward and march through the sand like I have my shit together. When really, I just want to slump down and drag my children out of there like dirty towels. Maybe I threaten no desert or early bedtime, but I do not for one second raise my voice.

But you know what? The second I am alone in my car, I roll those windows up, blast my AC to mute the sound, and I let my beast out. Oh come on, you know you have a Mama-beast inside you too. I typically yell something like "THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE" or if I am feeling completely defeated and sunburned, I will yell, "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST PULLED THAT SHIT IN PUBLIC." Yupp, I curse. Sew me.

Don't my children know that we aren't suppose to let our shit hang out like that in public? We wait until we are alone to go bat-shit cray cray. 

So here's the thing:

When you have children, you are playing the lottery, man. You can't guarantee that you are going to get a kid with a kick ass personality. You can't guarantee that your newborn will be the one sleeping through the night or that your toddler won't be a picky eater. And you can't guarantee that your child won't become the child who you always swore you would never have-- you know the one who throws his body onto the ground in the middle of the grocery store because you won't let him open up a box of Cheese Its.

Yeah, that's my kid.

My kid is a piece of work. We call him the devil. He IS the devil. I've spoken those words to my friends  before, telling them how difficult he is to deal with and they always look at me sideways with their mouths open. It's almost as like the entire universe expects us to only speak words of praise about our children. But, I am just being honest. Shouldn't we all just be honest?

Being a mother is tough. Throw in a kid with a strong-will and a destructive nature and it becomes even tougher.

My Luke is the cutest, most lovable, little devil in all of the world but he is a devil, regardless. And I don't think I am a bad person for telling you that life with Luke is not all rainbows and butterflies.

He cuddles and kisses for 5% of the time and terrorizes the house 95% of the time...but that 5% man, it makes it all worth it.

So is it a crime to tell you that 95% of the time I don't really like my kid? Gah, maybe it is. Maybe I am the worst mom in the world to speak the words that so many of us zip up and tuck in our closest.  But ya know what else? I can also tell you that I love him 100% of the time too. Hear me? 100% of the time. 

I could tell you a million things I love about my little Lukie. I love the way his little nostrils flare when he laughs and the way his voice sounds oddly deep when he is attacking us with his play sword (haha). And I love the way he thunks so heavily when he walks and how he drags out the "muah" sound as he goes in for a kiss. And the way he says "chah mok" instead of chocolate milk.

And oddly enough, just as I am wrapping up this post, here he comes waddling over to me with his arms open. "Hug" he says, which is his way of saying "pick me up." So, I do and he nuzzles his nose into my neck. And just like that, I want to take back every bad thing I ever said about him because he truly is an angel.

Our Journey to Minimalism.

I imagine you sitting there reading this blog on your mobile device, blowing the hair from your eyes with gusto from your bottom lip, all while drinking a cup of something warm, and already overwhelmed by the day that has only just begun.

It's time to simplify. And declutter. And detach from possessions, and return to the root of our simple, authentic, needs.

When I first started decluttering my life, it began at home. I woke up one morning, tossing all the dusty items from my cupboard-- sorting piles to donate and trash. I thought that once I had finished piling through each room, I would be left feeling utterly free and unencumbered by all our stuff. However, with 6 people living in my home, 4 of whom collect things in their pockets and trade shopkins and bracelets at school, the work is never done. It must be constantly practiced and reminded.

Simple living and a minimalist lifestyle is less about change and more about habit. It means you must constantly emphasize needs and let go of your wants. It means, freeing yourself from things that are weighing you down. And trashing items that you are tripping over on your floor.

It is so easy to get caught up in consumption and desires to have the best of everything-- especially in this world of social media where inspiration is at every corner. All I have to do is scroll through instagram and suddenly I have clicked on a link to purchase  some new frill from Esty or adorable outfits for my daughters or glassware from Anthropologie because I have somehow convinced myself that drinking from Mason Jars isn't pretty enough. Why does drinking have to look pretty?

Even if you have cleaned out every closest, emptied every cupboard, and made endless trips to consign your unworn clothing, one binge-shopping trip to Target can bring you right back to where you left off. Essentially, nothing will change on your journey to minimalism if you do not end the cycle of hoarding and consuming. Despite your best efforts, you will be left in a home (and a life, for that matter) that is brimming with chaos and clutter.

Confront yourself. Begin the journey. Release the wants. Turn away. Look inward. Find peace with what is. Enlighten your soul to the idea of being lighter and free yourself from your possessions.

Here are five steps to begin your journey toward Minimalism.

1.find your needs.

The first step in your journey toward minimalism is figuring out what you need to be happy. What matters most to you in this life? Possessions or experiences? Do you have get more from a brand new shirt from Nordstrom than you do from spending the day at the zoo with your children? Which will last longer-- your items or your memories? Which will play a larger roll in your overall well being? And the formation of the person you want to be? Sit with this for a minute. Now, strip your mind down to the bare bones of what makes you happy-- those, my friend, are your needs.

2. start the process of decluttering

The first step toward change is always the hardest. It's not easy to make the decision to throw away items that you have purchased -- it feels wasteful. I recommend donating or consigning your items when possible so you feel less guilty about this. Also, if you declutter for 20 to 30 minutes each day, the weight of your possessions will be lifted steadily and will allow time for adjusting to your new mindset. You may find yourself constantly feeling buyers regret-- looking at the unnecessary purchases that have filled up your life with clutter. It's okay. Feel that. Embrace it fully. And then, move on with the enlightenment to let go. After all, minimalism is not about having less, it is about making room for more of what matters.

3. stop spending.

Convincing yourself not to buy a new piece of home decor you saw on someone's IG feed, isn't the easiest thing to do. You might actually convince yourself that it is a need and not a want if you are conniving enough. Remind yourself of the freedom you felt while decluttering; and before each purchase ask yourself: where will this item live? can you afford it?  is it timeless or is it trendy? and most importantly, is it needed?

4. keep it clean.

Simply stated, do not replace that which you have removed. Bask in the cleanliness of your bare boned living.

5. start spending.

This time, I invite you to consider how much you have saved on spending less on possessions and want and then ask yourself if you can now spend a little more on experiences. Minimalism does not have to mean you are frugal. Instead, indulge in new ways to enjoy the simplicity of making memories through experiences. Simple moments are the joys of life.

Minimalism: because the best things in life aren't things. 

The Magic of an Authentic Childhood.

As I enter my thirty-third year of life, I find myself more and more reminiscent. More and more longing for time to slow down just a bit. This moment right now is ending. These words on this page are written. Yesterday is over. Today is winding down. And here I am wishing that I could bottle up every memory, every scent, every tongue twisted word that my children speak.

The truth is, I am already starting to forget what my childhood was like. Will they forget theirs as well? Will my daughter not remember this moment, as she curls herself onto my lap while I type? Will she not remember how I weave my fingers through the snarls in her hair gently as she tells me about her day?

I still remember the way my mother use to pet my head when I was sick. Sure, my parents weren't perfect- no parents are. But they provided me with love- simple, raw and honest love. They weren't very sentimental people, we never relished in flowery affirmations or emotional conversations- but we shared a common, unspoken agreement that love does not have to be flaunted to be strong. Love does not have to be shouted from the rooftops to be heard -- or rather, felt.

We weren't poor, but we certainly weren't extravagant. While my best friends vacationed in lavish hotels and pristine sailboats, we stayed nestled in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire in a worn down, raggedy trailer. And I wouldn't trade it for the world. I spent my summers barefoot catching salamanders, singing songs with my father while we hiked, pretending I didn't love riding in his canoe fishing (even though I really did), and lounging in the grass with my mom as the sun kissed our tan skin.

I remember moments growing up when I didn't feel good enough though. One time, after telling a classmate that we "camped in a trailer during the summer" I was greeted with a snarl of distaste. She seemed less than impressed and I wondered why. Was my life not as glittery as the next? Was there something I was missing?

As years passed by, there were moments of embarrassment as I learned that maybe my family was a little bit different than the average family in our town-- too modest, perhaps. While my friends had brand new Berkenstocks, I wore Walmart knockoffs. While my girlfriends twirled in their brand new prom dresses, I clawed through their closets to find something I could borrow. While many of my classmates drove new cars, I hopped in my old Chevy Prism that literally shook while it drove. And while others spent their summers in quaint Cape Cod cottages, I returned to the that old trailer in the woods.

And now? Well, I am a bit ashamed that I once felt less-than others. Because now I can see how unimportant material things are. Now, I can see that my parents weren't poor or selfish, but rather they valued what was important in life-- each other. They didn't need possessions or proclamations to show their worth. They didn't need to buy us new shiny shoes to declare their love for us. Instead, they celebrated us everyday -- simply and authentically by just being there for us; tucked away in a teeny trailer, shoulder to shoulder, in the midst of summer heat, laughing, roasting marshmallows, and looking across the campfire to see the faces of the people who matter most.

I experienced a simple and absolutely flawless childhood. It was magic.

So now, as my thirties continue on without reserve and my laugh lines deepen, and my children grow before my eyes, I try to remember the magic of an authentic childhood.

I do not want to get caught up in giving them the shiniest toys or the most luxurious vacations, although sometimes the world still makes me feel as though I should.

I try to resist the temptation to spoil them with possessions and to remember that is more important to mother them with my whole heart rather than my whole wallet.

Because right here, right now, there is enough love in our house to make it a home. Right now is fleeting. Right now will never survive. The days are passing and my children are creating childhoods that I want them to look back on with pride. More than anything, I want them to have deep-rooted contentment, knowing that their lives were full to the brim. I want their cups to runneth over with goodness. Someday, when I am no longer here with them, I want them to look back and remember a childhood that did not emphasize the stuff, but rather the people.

My parents taught me that.