Motherhood Uncensored

The best accidental conversation with a voice in my rearview mirror that I've ever had.

Last night I was trying to adjust the rearview mirror in my husband's car and I accidentally called OnStar. 

I was looking for the button tab thing that you just flip, but he has a fancy new car with the mirrors that are supposed to automatically change or something but they didn't and instead of pulling the tab or just, you know, adjusting the entire mirror, I pushed the OnStar button. 

I then pushed it a few hundred more times to get it to stop ringing but it was too late and suddenly I was talking to a perky lady in my rearview mirror. 

"Hello! How can we help you this evening? Have you called to get instructions on how to use your new Chevy Sonic?" 

OH. THE. IRONY. 

"Oh, uh, hi there, actually, I just accidentally pushed the button trying to figure out how to fix the rearview mirror." 

"Well, that's no problem Mrs. MY HUSBAND'S NAME HOLY SHIT HOW DOES SHE KNOW THIS. I can send you over to our NAME OF DEPARTMENT FOR IDIOTS LIKE YOU WHO DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE THEIR CAR." 

"Oh *chuckle* that's not necessary. It appears I have actually figured it out myself. You'd never know it but I do actually have a college degree!"

"*Laughter* Oh I needed to hear that tonight!"

Glad to provide you with some entertainment, lady in my rearview mirror.

"Now, is there anything else I can help you with?" 

"No no! But thank you so much for your, uh, company. Sorry to bother you!" 

I hung up and giggled a bit about with my daughter, who seemed completely unphased that I just called someone who knew pretty much everything about me with my rearview mirror because like duh this happens all the time. 

Is this how it felt for our parents when they first saw a fax machine and were like BUT HOW DOES IT SEND THE WORDS?

God, I'm getting old. 

{photo via}

Play with your kids like they're someone else's

One of the great pleasures of visiting New York, other that sushi delivery, is that I get to see two of my most favorite people in the whole world: Liz's girls. 

"You have six kids now!" they giggled, after we had finished a rousing game of apartment ball toss (which involves bouncing a small ball and catching it with your feet while you're sitting in a chair, if you're wondering). 

You would think that with four kids at home, I'd want to hide myself away in a quiet corner somewhere so I could hear my own thoughts. 

But that's not actually the case. There's something comforting about plopping down next to my dear friend (and business partner) and her couch and working like we would if we had an office. 

And I really do like spending time with her kids, playing with them, eating my beloved sushi while they nibble on white rice and soy sauce, and then taking way too many goofy photos on my computer. 

I'd like to think I'd play with my own kids the same way if we weren't actually in our house, the same way beloved aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas, even that favorite babysitter do. 

Because with having kids comes a messy house and piles of laundry and 4000 other things on your list that seem so pressing that actually playing with them and enjoying their company seems like another thing on the list. 

But when you're a guest, when there's someone else to do all that, and you can be the fun one, who pretends her legs are a tightrope for little girls to walk up. 

I've often joked that I'm a really good parent outside of my house, not just to other peoples' kids, but to my own, when the trappings of home ownership and the responsibilities of adulthood are temporarily put on hold. The phone turned off and tucked away in my purse, and the bills and  the taxes that are due and GOD WHAT DO I MAKE FOR DINNER are paused, if only for a few hours. 

And suddenly I'm no longer a spectator in my own kids' lives. 

Soon the requests for me to play tea and princess and chase will stop because they'll learn that "in a minute" actually means "never." And the things that I think are so pressing, the ridiculous minute inconsequential things (in the long scheme, of course) are more important. 

Somehow I've led myself to believe that I should be able to juggle just as well when I'm home alone as when I've got my husband home to help me, which really makes no logical sense whatsoever, as if the messy floor and unfolded laundry are some indication of failure. 

Instead of a to-do list, I'm starting a "DO RIGHT NOW" and a "WHAT CAN WAIT" list. The clothes might be more wrinkled. The floors will be less clean. 

And I'll probably still be exhausted. But from too much tea and dress-up and playing apartment ball toss with my own kids. 

Get busy living

Last month, after feeling like I was spending all my idle time being a voyeur in other peoples' lives, I made the decision to delete the Facebook app off my iPhone and ditch Instagram.

Part of it comes from having a bit of social media overload since it's what I do for a living. 

But another part was this notion that the lives of everyone else just weren't as important as my own. 

At face value I suppose that sounds selfish. But when you really think about it, you're sifting through the constant cascade of mostly meaningless information and weird photos of people's lunches from "friends" you hardly know when you could be doing other things that could really use your attention more. 

Sure, it's sweet avoidance and a sexy time killer. It's a feeder of the beast that is procrastination. 

 And it's saved me many a time.

But then what?

This is a criticism we "mommy bloggers" have gotten for many years now, that we spend so much of our time and sink our heart and soul into telling our story and our kids' stories that we don't actually get to experience it with them. 

This is also a criticism we've called bullshit on for many years now. We live it and then write it. That's what memoirists do. What personal bloggers (or whatever we're calling them now) do.

But now there's Instagram and the Vine app (which allows you to share 6 second video silent video clips), and hell still Facebook and Twitter at times, and it's almost like we're so busy showing people what we did or what we are doing that we become even more removed from our own actual experience of it.

We are telling it as it is happening, which means by all accounts there's a lot we're going to miss out on.

I'm hardly pointing a finger at anyone because I know how much of a double-edged sword this is, especially when I'm co-hosting an event where tweets and photos and a visible tally is important to show success. Liz always said that the sign of a really good party is when no one is tweeting while they're at it. 

But I get that having a great time without telling anyone isn't great for ROI.

So here's the question: What's the ROI on your life? 

I'm not saying we can't be actors in and directors of our own movies. We all want so desperately to take the memories that we are making with our children and freeze them in time. So we snap and click and press record in an attempt to hold on to what we know we're going to lose.

Time is a parent's nemesis. 

But if we spend so much time recording those images and videos, will we remember to make sure we're actually in them? 

The memories might be fleeting, but I'm beginning to think that enjoying the actual moments will always be better than trying to relive them by looking and watching later.

Pins for Parents

 

 

Now this is my kind of Pinterest. More to come!

{A little help from Julie Marsh}

Never say never

I'd like to think that after parenting for almost nine years now, I've grown a pretty thick skin, but then it happens and I just want to go over to the stupid TSA lady and her mean glare to tell her why my 2-year old is still drinking out of a bottle.

As if she really gives a shit. Or if I really give a shit.

At least it wasn't a bottle of Jack. 

I'm the first to admit that I've dished out my own fair share of judgments, in weird glances and snooty blog posts, because I'm human and I hate spanking and kid leashes and babies drinking Coke out of their bottles and WHY JUST WHY? 

But I also know that parents have reasons for doing most of what they do, at least I try to tell myself that anyway, and that the kid with the leash might have a disability and the baby drinking Coke might... yeah, sorry, I can't think of a good reason for that one. 

Doesn't get enough sugar and sleeps too much? 

Hey, I tried. 

So I hope that other parents will offer the same courtesy to me when my 2-year old walks through the airport with a bottle of almond milk becauase that is how she takes a nap and goes to sleep at night and I like sleep and I had three non-sleepers who wouldn't take a bottle and ... you get the picture. 

If it makes a difference to you, she only drinks milk from it. Not Coke. 

See the whole thing about parenting is that it's a collection of moments made up of things we thought we'd never do. Ever. 

We pick up their chewed food and we wash poop off their butt with our bare-ass hands and it's all crazy.

So are we really in the position to look at a mom of a toddler with a bottle and be all "WTF HOW COULD YOU LET HER DRINK FROM THE BOTTLE AFTER THE AGE OF 1!" or whatever the age is.

I haven't checked my baby manual lately. 

I'd say that if we took the time to stop and ask the parent giving their kid the gigantic bag of jelly beans at 8am and got the full story, the one where the kid wouldn't put his pants or shoes on and the mom (or dad) had to get out of the house for an appointment and she was like "OH JUST TAKE THE JELLY BEANS FOR GOD SAKES!" 

Then we'd totally get it and laugh and maybe even be BFFs. 

That is until she pulled out the bottle full of coke. 

My point: Just because you *think* you'd never do it doesn't mean you'll never do it. If there's anything I've learned about being a parent, never ever say never. 

Trust me.