All in Family
Easter is comin in hot, y’all. Easter in the South is a big deal. And, to be honest, I’m a little nervous. There’s so much riding on the way in which I execute this holiday for my family. Get it wrong, I have a long way to dig out my salvation. I’m pretty sure that all my good deeds & all of my trips to Chick Fil A for the Lord’s chicken from the previous year get erased. Get it right, I’m all set, ready to judge those who don’t {KIDDING!} Just breathe, and…
Unicorns are rare, marvelous creatures. Kinda mystical, mysterious, magical (wow, lots of “M” words). Who doesn’t want to be mysterious and magical?? But I’ve had an epiphany during this existential crisis I’ve been working through over the past two years. And after much consideration, meditation, and internal debate brought about by having too much time on my hands while not writing, I’ve come to the conclusion that as much as I want to be mysterious and marvelous, I don’t relate to unicorns.
“Am I screwing up my kids?”
That was, is, and will always be the most frequent parenting thought that pops into my head. As a perfectionist, I want to be PERFECT at everything I do. Yes, even parenthood- ESPECIALLY parenthood. Not rational, I get it. But still what I strive to achieve no matter what I’m undertaking.
Don’t worry, momma. Everything’s gonna be ok. I know it will. I know it will because I’ve watched the movie and I know it ends beautifully.
OMG Y’ALL! My kids went back to school today for the first time since December 18th! Praise tha LORD! There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Let’s hope it’s not another train.
A few weeks ago, between news of the death and destruction that has come to be synonymous with the year 2020, you might have missed a news story about Alicia Silverstone proudly declaring that she’s spending her time in quarantine by taking baths with her nine year old son.
A baby’s name doesn’t just affect the child. The name a parent gives to a baby tells the world EVERYTHING WE NEED TO KNOW about what kind of parent a child is dealing with: good, bad, or hopelessly obnoxious.
Before the world retreated inside, I was a remote worker struggling to juggle a corporate career and a family, while trying desperately to build my dream career as a comedian. I was beyond busy and stressed and exhausted. Life was enslaving me (which is weird because “life” isn’t even a human) and I was simply trying to keep it all going. I know I wasn’t the only one. Right?
Chaos is ever present in the narrative that is my life. No matter how hard I fight against it, it’s still there. So if it’s never going to go away, can I learn to use it to my advantage?
Ugh. That’s how I felt for the first few years after becoming a mom to each of my kids. Don’t get me wrong: I LOVE being their mommy. I fell in love with them the moment I felt their tiny, yet surprisingly powerful feet kung fu kick my innards. But I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming, suffocating amount of stress and defeat and frustration that comes from being NEEDED by a tiny human day in and day out. All the while juggling a career and managing a household and still finding time and strength to lovingly pour my black, dead, exhausted heart into my marriage.
Can we talk about the aspect of motherhood that no one mentioned before I became a mom? Right up there with mom guilt, overall feelings of inadequacy, and true meaning of exhaustion… shopping for clothes to wear on my body after having a baby was something for which I didn’t know I should have better prepared.
I love my family more than anything in the world. My husband and my kids deserve more than I could ever give them so I spend my days doing my very best to care for them as well as I can. However, I swear to all things holy that if I spend one more minute making a meal that no one eats, y’all might see my story on an episode of Snapped.
When the fun level dwindles and the tantrums rise (I’m working on better handling stress, y’all), I begin to fantasize of simpler times when I drop the kids off at school and have eight uninterrupted hours to take care of business. I can usually work AND find time to sneak away to the gym so that when the kids get home, I can give them my undivided focus. It’s still tough to keep up with the routine of getting the kids to school on time, handling the unexpected late afternoon conference calls that inevitably pop up from time to time, and getting the kids home, but I know exactly what needs to happen when. But then that’s eight hours of time with them that I’ll never get back. Aaaand that’s where the mom guilt comes in.
Thanks to shows like Nailed It, America’s Funniest Videos, and Keeping Up with the Kardashians, we all know that even the best planning, intentions, and preparation don’t always equate to flawless execution. And that fact doesn’t always bode well for our New Year’s Resolutions. This week, some of us will gather up the shattered goals and broken resolutions that have accumulated over the past twelve months to once again falsely promise ourselves with even better intentions that “THIS is gonna be the year”. Gyms will be packed. Financial advisors will have a packed schedule. Health-food stores will be packed. Life coaches will be busy. Keto recipe blogs will break the internet faster than Kim Kardashian’s arse. However, all you regular gym goers know that if you can just wait a few weeks, that yoga class will be back to just you, Sharon, and Tiphi soon enough. Because resolutions are mostly shat. So… can we stop it with the resolutions??? Defeating, deflating resolutions. Instead, I say we focus on the outcomes we want and exercise some self-mercy in the process.
Remember that “Staycation” I mentioned? Well, I TOOK IT! Oh, I took it hard. And I discovered that the joy of the staycation is relaxing, refocusing, and uncovering hidden gems in your own backyard. My kiddies and I played, swam, adventured, and painted the town proving that you don’t have to go far to have a successful ‘cation.
So you wanna go on a glorious vacation but don’t have the time, money, or permission from your parole officer to leave your town. No worries! There’s an alternative! Y’all, I’m bout to have myself a Staycation. That means I’m gonna go on a ‘cation but I’m not going a-vay. Instead, I’mma stay. As in: stay at my house but I’m gonna ACT like I’m at the beach.
After ELEVEN years, we’ve finally been able to give our kids the summer they (and we) deserve. Ladies (and maybe, like, one gentleman) I present to you… THE UNSTRUCTURED SUMMER!