Oh My Heart

His post kiss face, so proud of his efforts.

See me, heart melted, a I heap on the ground waiting for my turn, and I am done. Forced to resign to a day of play and hugs and cuddling and fun. Laundry siting in the laundry room waiting to be folded. The same pile that took me two days to get from washer to dryer to basket. Two days! A dishwasher waiting to be emptied, toys begging to be picked up and all I do is nothing. 

My motivation for domestic goddess status living in the dumps. My motivation to just be with the kids to go and do what the day brings winning on the days George has class, winning without a doubt. My pride coming from successfully transporting, dressing, cooking, feeding, bathing, all three without tears or tantrums or injuries. And I even exercised! 

And then the end of the day comes, kids to bed, and I could accomplish so much but I don't. I relax instead and read or indulge in reality T.V. 

By the time George returns home around 10:00pm and walks through the door he walked out of around 6:30am, the guilt starts set in and I am convinced that I totally suck. How could I have accomplished so little today when he just worked so hard? 

I took the sweetest nap, with Elsa, while he was stressing a midterm during the business of a work day, how could I? I feel like I am cheating on him with laziness and it feels horrible. I mean, he just had to move one of the kids books out of the way to sit by me on the couch. The horror.

But he is the absolute best ever and always brings me back. Reminds me that the kids are the priority and I must enjoy my time with them. Their happiness is all that matters. And then we dissect each others days, his filled with stories of challenges I can't comprehend, his brained zapped from working numbers and I share stories of the kids-what they said, advances they made. And then we give in and go to bed, asleep before we can say goodnight.

So here I sit. A new morning, a fresh cup of coffee, and more lofty goals in my mind. But Jude is headed my way and by the look in his eye I can tell he needs to be held. So we will probably head to the couch and snuggle. 

And then what? Who knows? But what I do know is that I will try to keep the guilt to a minimum, but then again, what kind of mother would I be without a little guilt. I try to rise above and not subject myself to it but unfortunately, I am not immune. 

Maybe I will fold that load of laundry and even put it away, just in time to start another. 

But for now, cheers, here's to you and what ever you work hard doing. Here's to a new day. 

Help

After yet another long, busy day yesterday of an art festival, shopping and some more shopping for those little things that keep popping up on our list, I was completely zapped. Nothing in this world has the ability so suck the life out of me quite like Walmart. I still get extremely overwhelmed each time I walk into the store and go completely blank immediately after entering and always have to take a moment to look around and take it all in with my mouth hanging wide, no doubt. It is just so big. And so busy. I literally have to do a mental prep before I enter and do a check, double check, triple check for my list, then hold is tight because I am nothing without it.


So we came home around dark, all of us hungry and tired and wanting food but I haven't been too aggressive in stocking the kitchen because stocking up takes money and I have a serious phobia when it comes to spending. But I am going to fix the kitchen problem asap. Its a must. Because I am no good without food, as you are about to see.


So Nyah and I, and Jude and Elsa, all got settled in on our bed couch, which we are currently using until we purchase a popper sofa, in attempts to decompress before food, bath, story, and bed. Jude was nursing, Elsa was bouncing on my legs and Nyah butted in right in front of Elsa to get in on the Mommy action. I simply pulled her off my lap with one hand, not able to take a single person more on me. And I guess after a day of working on not interrupting and following instructions the first time they are given, she was over it. After being pulled off my lap, she so sweetly looked at me with her wide beautiful eyes and stated that, "You are a grumpy Mommy. You are a bad Mommy, just like Rapunzel's Mommy."


And just in case you aren't as well versed on your fairy tales as my fairly tale loving four year old, let me just fill you in. The Mommy she was referring to is the wicked woman who stole Rapunzel from her crib, from the castle, and from her parents in the newly vamped Disney version of Rapunzel called, Tangled. In this version, similar to the original story, the woman locks Rapunzel away in a tower, never lets her out, lets Rapunzel's hair grow, and often calls for Rapunzle to "Let down your hair!" Only so she can come up and pretend to love Rapunzel as a mother would, but really uses Rapunzel for her hair, which has special powers that allow the woman to retain her youth. 


So there it was. The words no mother wants to hear and Nyah's true feelings. She thinks I suck at this mother thing, the only job I truly care about in life and the only thing I desperately want to do successfully. George, of course, advised that I shouldn't take her so serious, she is only four years old and I couldn't help but think, exactly. She is only four years old. She is more innocent and pure now then she will ever be. She is not yet aware of purposely saying things to hurt another. She is only capable of telling the truth and in this case she was best able to get the truth out by relating me to the only mean "mother" she knows, not and evil step mother, oh no, but a woman who steals a child.


So, of course, I spent much of last night and today trying to recover from that blow and completely re analyzing myself and my life and trying to figure out how to be a better mother, a better person, and how to get more sleep with all the runny noses up in here. 


And so I guess this is a call for help. Advise is needed from much better and wiser mothers because I am feeling like such a failure. Is this a normal thing for kid to tell their Mom? Or am I just that sucky? I need help because it might come as a big surprise, but guess what? I am totally sucking at the recovery from this one. I almost feel as bad as the time I locked Elsa in the hot truck. 


Thanks in advance from one humbled Momma.

Welcome to The Good Life

The last minute visits with friends lately have been bitter sweet, both making the sadness creep up my throat that yes, this is really happening. We are moving. And yet the other reality that, yes, we are moving which brings out the tiniest tinge of excitement for new discoveries, really not knowing what is the universe has in store for us but having all the confidence in the world that it will all work out, because it always dose. 


Nyah had a memorable goodbye visit with one of her friends, who she usually hangs with at our playdates on Wednesdays. These two friends have just hit it off from the beginning, they love each other, and I enjoy the the mom time equally as much, double bonus. Nyah got invited to play at her friends house this weekend, really her first time playing at a friends house and I'm afraid it happened. Remember being a kid, thinking everything someone else had was absolutely rad, down to their dishes, siblings and parents? Well, after Nyah's first glimpse of what life in someone else's house was like, she didn't want to leave. She would have moved in if given the option. It all started with this.

The badass Cadillac. Sadly, Cadillacs are one of those toys that my children will probably never own (along with Nintendos, (or whatever they're called these days), and cell phones). Not sure why, no strong reason, they just won't. I have become such a minimalist in ways since becoming a parent. (And I will come back to this post in many years when my children have all this stuff I just listed and remember to never say never, because motherhood always has you doing the unexpected.)

Nyah's friend was like a driving prodigy. Better than me, I'm afraid. She rocked those gears, reversing and spinning the wheel, getting herself out of sticky situations with ease. I couldn't help but laugh seeing these girls cruising around together, Nyah thoroughly enjoying being a passenger. Nyah got behind the wheel once and a head on collision into a tree was the immediate result. We've got to work on that.

The afternoon continued with playing, screaming, getting dirty, and swimming, which by the way was followed by towels heated in the dryer for them to dry off with, and then hot chocolate since they were cold. Hot chocolate, in the Caribbean? Who thinks of this, well this awesome mom did and after Nyah's first taste of the warm milky goodness, she finally gave me a look like, "What the heck, what is wrong with you?" "Stop depriving me of all that is good in the world, woman."


Nyah cried all the way home (I kinda felt like it too, but for other reasons) when I finally drug her crying a pleading out of this kid heaven back to the reality of her life. I am sure this won't be the last wake up call for her, or exposure to the good life. But as I have so often done, after hanging out with people's family who seemed to have it all, I always ended up coming home to my family and being thankful, because they were mine. I hope Nyah had a similar feeling as she was crawling into her bed that night, exhausted, with thoughts of Cadillacs and hot chocolate dancing in her head. 

Lost & Hopefully Found

I am an all out panic. I have lost yet another precious item, I know, I know. I suck. The victim this go around, my camera. My old, out dated camera. My friend. Maybe this is the world trying to persuade me to get a nice, of this decade camera so I can capture better shots to post on here. A camera which would allow me to control little minor things so many people who take pictures control regularly like shutter speed and aperture. I am not ready for an upgrade though, I just want my dinosaur back.


I will admit, I have issues and am prone to stupid mistakes, mostly involving my cell phone, but my camera? Why? I had some great shots on there, great memories. The pregnancy brain thing is really driving me crazy. Is it true? I believe so, my forgetfulness seems personified these past few months. Lost stethoscope, forgotten grocery items, daily hunt for keys, getting in the wrong car, and the list goes on.


I have put Nyah in Elsa's car seat and vice versa at the store and many other places more times than I care to admit. Seriously, its embarrassing. The look they give me when one is on the other's respected side of the car is priceless, not to mention one car seat is HUGE and the other is small. The sad part is, I will go through the full buckling process before I do a double take at one of them knowing something doesn't look right. Nyah gets such kick out of this. She just sits there watching me go through the whole process with a smile waiting for that moment when I realize, I have done it again. She then giggles for hours and reminds me repeatedly what I did. Crazy Mom. 


Our house isn't big, at all, so one has to be quite skillful to loose things in here at the rate I do. The thing that frightens me most is Elsa is really into throwing things away these days. We have found some odd things in the garbage. George just shakes his head. He is that guy who puts everything in the same place over and over and over again for years and years and rarely looses things. He's the guy who gets under my skin when I loose yet another item, because he doesn't. 


Sad still to have such a long time companion gone. The one who captured my early St. Croix days, my pregnancy with Nyah, her birth, Elsa's birth, our wedding, family, and now up to the last trimester of my pregnancy with the little guy. And George just figured out how to use the camera without help. Great, here we go again. 

Business

Obviously, I interrupted some serious business here. Nyah in the business of teaching and Elsa fully emerged in the business of learning. Major world issues in the process of being solved until Mom barged in with the obnoxious camera. Carry on girls, carry on with your business.

*I know, I know. They will hate me for this photo someday, a future I am willing to face. I just couldn't help myself to share this precious scene (with the world). Sorry girls, I take full responsibility.

And the Award Goes To...

Remember what a great time I mentioned we had with George's parents watching them sing and celebrating St. Lucia? Well, there was just one minor bump in the road that I failed to mention. I thought I would share the fiasco so hopefully someone can avoid making a similar mistake as me, though even at the moment, I didn't want some idiotic move on my part to overshadow the beautiful day we were having.


It all began as we were attempting to sit through the church service, something we don't do often which was made blaringly obvious my kids' behavior. They have obviously not been trained in proper church etiquette. Nyah insisted on talking in a regular tone of voice (which was loud) and Elsa, well I am sure you know what she wanted to do the entire service...run.


So I finally accepted defeat and shlepped all of our coloring books and snacks and stuff outside to spend the rest of the service in the open with the calming breeze. All was going well, many other mothers outside, a friend I have known since moving to the island with her kids and calm and no need for formality. Have at it kids. 


Nyah, the angel (seriously?) spent the rest of the service gazing wide eyed at the older girls of the group, following their every move. Elsa, oh Elsa, just had to prove to the other kids there that she had more energy and stamina and could out run them. She succeeded.


So I spent a good thirty minutes chasing her repeatedly to the parking lot, which was far away. Repeatedly, did I mention this? How do these other kids her age sit so still? Am I missing something?


So once again, I accepted defeat and began to head to the truck for the strolller to strap her down. Enough is enough. Off Elsa and I went to journey across the church grounds, to the parking lot for the stroller in the truck, leaving Nyah under the watchful eye of my friend and the older girls. Honestly, I don't even think she knew I left. Elsa and I passed the old men ushering and guarding the door, or getting fresh air, whatever.


We reached the truck and I put Elsa in one of the two strollers we had in the bed of the truck, the nice stroller, the cadillac, the one that lies down. Would she sleep? Maybe. I strapped her in and then I discovered it, cat hair, all over the stroller. Out precious outdoor siamese cat Samba decided to make a bed of her stroller, which was stored on the front porch. Awesome.


Out of that stroller Elsa came and I decided to put her in the front seat of the truck since I had some work to do, putting the nice stroller away and and getting out the other one and setting it up. So before I left her I decided to shut the door to the truck. This is Elsa we are talking about, a child who would think a flying leap from the high seat of the truck would be a great idea. Safety first.


After I had gotten the stroller situation under control, I went to get Elsa out of the truck. Wait, let me try again, and again and oh f*#$, the door was locked. I looked to the other door, locked too. I look at Elsa, precious Elsa, and there she was, sitting there with the keys with the remote lock in her hand smiling like, "Look what I've got, Mom!". Deep breath, stay calm. "Push the button Elsa, yes, push it, you can do it." Nothing, just laughs. F#$%. Sun blazing, window up, absolutely no air circulation. Must act fast to get her out.


Someone drove by, I stopped them to ask to use their phone. They said they didn't have one. Right. Who doesn't have a cell phone and what about me says, she looks crazy, don't lend her our phone?


Time was ticking and Elsa needed to get out and I knew the fastest way to get her out was to get George there who was at work with the extra key and remote lock on his key chain, or should I call the police? No, what could the police do and it would honestly take them an hour to get there, no joke. My final decision was to call George but phone was with Nyah at the church. F;#$!


So I decided I had to do it. I check Elsa one last time, she was exploring the keys, still happy as could be though I could see the sweat beads forming on her head. I had to do it. I kicked off the Payless church shoes and ran as fast as my six month pregant body would carry me. I ran and ran, past the gentlemen guarding the door, who's heads just follow me like a typewriter. I think one mentioned, "Were's the baby?" No time to explain. I reach Nyah who was coloring, oblivious of our absence, and crouched low, grabbed the keys and turned to go, calling out to my friend, "Locked Elsa in the car, watch Nyah". And I was off again in the other direction across the rocky parking lot. Rocks in my feet, ouch, uterus cramping, ouch.


I finally reached the truck after what seemed like an eternity. Elsa was fine and not choking or doing any of the other horrible things I imagined could happen to her while I was running. She was still smiling. She wanted to give kisses through the glass.


I dialed George, still out of breath, feeling the effects of the last four months or so of no running. "Elsa, locked in truck, no air, come now." He asked maybe think one question and he was on his way. And at that moment, I realized that was the first, OH SHIT phone call we have had the pleasure of sharing and hopefully our last.


So I waited and played with Elsa, she was fine. She discovered the center console and was now jumping on it. Freedom in the car, what could be better.


George, Super Dad, arrived maybe seven minutes later and the "Beep, beep" of the truck unlocking was music to my ears. He later told me he broke every driving rule possible even heading the wrong way on the highway momentarily to reach a short cut. He opened the door to get her out and she ran to the other side. She didn't want out, she was having too much fun. Silly girl. She finally leaped into her Dad's arm and all was right again in the world.


So off George went to work and I put Elsa in her clean stroller and we moseyed back to the church like nothing ever happened. "Who me, running past you, barefoot like a mad woman?" I have no idea what you are talking about. We reached Nyah, who was still coloring and didn't even acknowledge our return. Nyah's Aunt later told me that she took a break from singing and came outside to get a drink of water and found Nyah sitting without me and Nyah quickly requested her Aunt take her to the restroom. When she asked Nyah were her mom was, Nyah nonchalantly replied, "Oh, she locked Elsa in the car."


Elsa drank some water and finally took a break for maybe a second and then chasing continued. The cramping continued but quickly went away later in the afternoon after lots of water, some rest and good food. The guilt sitting deep in my chest is also slowly disappearing. I felt so horrible making such a careless mistake putting my baby's health in danger. 


Definitely earned Worst Mom Award for the day, I humbly accept.