Times are changing...

Times are changing. I always knew it was going to happen. You just never really process that it IS happening. 

I have left behind the era of diapers, bottles, nap schedules, massive carseats and cribs. 

I have entered the world of managing activity schedules, carpools, homework, sleepovers, and the PTA. 

I am of the opinion that the stage you are in with your kids never really gets easier, per se. The difficulties just change. Am I thrilled that I don't have to pack a diaper bag with an endless supply of snacks and multiple outfits in case of a poop explosion? Of course. Do I think comforting my daughter when a friend is mean at school, or becoming basically an Uber driver is a walk in the park? Obviously not. Am I utterly terrified of teenage years? No question. Despite my new, current stage of life, the ends of my days haven't really changed... utterly exhausted and quite often with a glass of wine. 

We had a fantastic, busy summer. Between swim team, family vacations, a few camps and lots of pool time, my girls got tanner and blonder than ever. Here are a few of my fav moments: 

Despite all the fun of summer, August always brings out the cravings of structure and organization in me. I have discussed in past posts my awkward obsession with the feeling of a new school year (and my hoarder-like pen collection). To me, even more than New Year's, it really represents a fresh start. With Summer going into 2nd grade, Layla starting Kindergarten and Livi in preschool three days a week, I started freaking out about the potential for morning chaos. Summer has one speed, and one speed only: that of a snail. A snail who gets sidetracked by ANYTHING that comes her way. Layla is not a snail, but she is my late sleeper who is no peach when she doesn't want to get up. Then I have Olivia who, on a daily basis, comes up with something she just doesn't know how to do anymore by herself. "Mommy, I just forget how to put underpanties on." 

Needless to say, I was concerned. I didn't want every morning to be running around, yelling, complaining, where-are-my-shoes chaos. I implemented a few things that (for these first few weeks) have actually worked gloriously. Like I kind of can't believe it. They do require upkeep on my part, but that is 100 schmillion percent worth it to have the decent mornings we have had. 

1. They pick out all of our outfits for the week on Sunday. I check the weather, they choose things, and I make adjustments on the really terrible outfits (no Layla, a purple tutu does not mean you need a purple shirt). It takes 10 minutes and saves me EPIC amounts of time and stress in the mornings. We drape them on hangers next to cute little day of the week labels I made (and laminated... obvi). 

2. They pack their own lunches. No, I don't care that they are only almost four, five, and seven years old. They are all perfectly capable of making a sandwich. They know the categories to fill: 
-drink 
-sandwich/main
-fruit/veggie
-dairy item (yogurt, string cheese, etc) 
-snack (goldfish, Pirate's booty, etc)
I try to prepackage the snacks and fruit/veggies in baggies so they just grab them but I haven't even done that 100% and it has been fine. AND no more coming home from school and complaining that I forgot that one of them doesn't like the Apple-Banana Fruit Squishems. And now they use it as a bargaining chip with each other... which is a risky move. 

3. Lots of easy breakfast options... but whatever I give them, that is what they eat. No one kid wants a waffle, one wants cereal and one wants peanut butter toast. A frequent phrase in our house is, "You get what you get and you don't get upset." I made a bunch of breakfast burritos (large batch of scrambled eggs slightly loose and whatever else you want--cheese, bacon, sausage, salsa, whatever. Roll up in a flour tortilla, wrap in a paper towel and then plastic wrap. Store in a freezer bag. To reheat, unwrap plastic wrap and put in microwave 1-2 minutes or until warm), batches of pancakes, stocked up on waffles, english muffins, you name it. I also wrote a list of ideas for those mornings that I just can't think. 


So. Up to now, we got off to a good start. And an adorable one. 

Happy Thursday! 

The Depths, Mexico and a Striped Cast...

I have reemerged. I know, I can't believe it either. 

So I'm going to state the obvious... Life is clearly crazy. But it is crazy for everyone. I'm not that special. Last I posted (<--link) was when I was wallowing in the depths of despair prior to our family vacay in Mexico. I have since risen from said-ridiculous depths (for no real reason), but have had plenty of moments where I went right back to the same place. 

Yesterday, just yesterday, I shed actual tears. I will officially, 100 bagillion percent say this time and time again. I hate winter. 

The current phrase on the chalkboard in my family room. 

If I feel so strongly about it, you wonder why I still live in a place where it snows. Well because it doesn't always snow. I had far too many winters as a child (when I actually sort of enjoyed the crap) when it never.freaking.snowed. Not even a drop all winter. Now it happens. Now. NOW, when I have three small children of my own and it takes 47 minutes to bundle them up to go out and play for 11 minutes; when snow days deplete my very few, short, oh-so-precious hours each week that everyone is at school and I relish in my aloneness; when everyone rotates their sickness and someone always seems to be sleeping on top of me blowing snot rockets in my face; when I plan appointments around those few hours that I am supposed to be alone; when my pantry and fridge are just empty in general and everyone else buys out all of the eggs, milk and bread. Now. Now is when we get snow. 

But this is life. And it is now. 

To sum up two major events in the last few months... 

Livi broke her wrist. I always knew she would be the first of the three to break a bone. She is basically our human wrecking ball. I'm talking she will run straight into a wall, go flying, pop up without a complaint and keep on going. It is quite comical to watch (when I'm not concerned about constant brain damage). So a slide at a birthday party got the best of her. A full 24 hours later after she just stopped using her right arm entirely (mom of the year), I took her in to get an x-ray (she actually looked at me and smiled as the doctor was examining her... the child feels no pain). 

Lo and behold, it was fractured... a mere week and a half before our long-awaited trip to Mexico. There was no question in my mind to pay extra for the waterproof cast; that was just not something I was willing to deal with. She obviously requested pink and purple stripes and was strangely happy and didn't care at all about it. 

I somehow packed myself and everyone without TOO much stress, was able to find the neck pillows that the girls were dying for, got ridiculously sick the night before we left (I legit could not breathe), and we were off. 

To recap an utterly amazeballs trip, we drank, we ate, we swam, we held a parrot, I got felt up by a monkey, we swam with dolphins, we got serenaded by mariachi dudes, and we drank some more. A bed on the beach with glorious sheers fluttering in the wind is now the level at which I will grade all other beach trips. My Tommy Bahama chair in Ocean City may no longer cut it.

Our dolphin adventures. The one of just me is actually two dolphins pushing me from my feet under the water. Bucket list item-- totes checked off. 

We obviously had a good time. Then we had to come back to real life, which during this time of year genuinely can suck. Livi got her cast off, then back on again (it wasn't fully healed), then finally off. She had a rockin' tan.

Adding to my pure detest of coldness, in the weeks since our return we have broken our freezer, garbage disposal, garage door, AND we have a suspected pipe leak because our water bill is out of control. #adulthoodisoverrated #soisowningahome

So this week, the day after yet another snow day, when I was awakened hourly (just as I was drifting off from the last cleanup session) to help and comfort my daughter vomiting as intensely as her little body would allow, I cried. From exhaustion, from cabin fever, from sadness that I could do nothing to help her, from thinking about which child would be getting this sickness next and from the dread of repeating this night. And then I cleaned the bucket yet again, washed out her mouth, held her close and didn't sleep. Just like every other mom would do. 

Happy Wednesday :o)

A Different Kind of Mommy Guilt...

It is a new year. A fresh start. A time for resolutions and re-energizing... or at least it is supposed to be. 

I usually feel a sense of excitement and motivation during this time; positive thinking about everything I want to accomplish in the next 12 months. We are leaving for Mexico in just a few days for a whole week, and I have been counting down the minutes. 

So why do I feel so frustrated, ungrateful, guilty and just plain down? 

When I think about mommy guilt, I think of the "normal" kind... you missed out on an important milestone while at work, you let your kids watch too much TV today, you snapped when you could have been patient and loving. 

People would kill to have my life and I am fully aware of that. I don't have to work, I have a wonderful husband, three healthy, beautiful girls, a lovely home, no major health problems... I know I have it good, I really do. It just feels like all I do is feed everyone, clean up after everyone, break up fights, try to silence the whining, shuttle everyone from here to there and back again, and then clean up the new mess that was just created. I feel like I'm losing control and I'm not really sure how to get it back. 

Mommy needs a minute. More than a minute, like a week. But the ironic agony is that as soon as I am away from them, I miss them. 

This is the life of being a mommy... so does that just mean I'm terrible at it?

I never had a period of time in my life just to be. I went straight from college to married to pregnant just a few months later. I would never change anything, but I sort of skipped over that period of time when you can be selfish. No responsibilities for anyone but yourself. I'm 30 years old and I have been blessed with the task of raising these three amazing girls. But I'm tired. And I'm with them every.waking.moment. When they say, "Mommy I want you" when I have not parted from them in oh, a schmillion days straight, I want to tear my hair out. The seemingly endless cold of winter (that has really just begun) makes all the days run together into one big whiny, messy blur. 

I know, I know, I will miss these days when they are gone. I recently read a book where the mom was looking at her teen and tween daughters craving the snuggles and the love they once showered on her. I'm terrified that I'm not enjoying these moments. And then they will be gone and I will hate myself for having been so over it. 

The feelings of failure every night when I drop into bed exhausted are all-consuming. I look back knowing I was constantly busy and was cleaning up and running around all day... but what is there to show for it? Nothing. Just a still-messy house and a to-do list out the wazoo. Sometimes I just don't know how to be grateful, which then sets off the guilt. It is an endless, vicious cycle.

I know I need to just re-wire my mindset. I need to focus on the positives and not let the little things weigh me down. I know how privileged and fortunate I am, and when I feel like this I am basically being completely unappreciative to Matt for how hard he works to provide this life for us. I'm sure these feelings are related to the lovely world of hormones... or maybe they are not and I'm just an awful, spoiled brat. I don't know. Now I will go drive my kids in my nice big car out of our wonderful neighborhood to their lovely preschool, and then continue packing for our tropical vacation. I know, gag, I'm ridiculous.  One thing I do know is that writing is therapeutic to me. So to all of you reading this, thank you. And Happy New Year. 

An Utterly Endless Halloween...

Halloween is over! I'm so excited! Don't get me wrong, I love Halloween. It just seemed like it was never going to end. Now if only we could skip over Thanksgiving and get right to the good stuff... CHRISTMAS!!! Before you yell at me, I just don't like how Thanksgiving is basically on top of Christmas and then everything is mashed in and you can enjoy nothing. Fear not, no decorations are going up yet... but I am planning them, AND I have begun shopping. December is quite the month in the Simmons household. Summer's birthday is the 5th and Olivia's birthday is the 7th... so needless to say with the addition of Christmas, it is quite the expensive month and requires much planning. 

So before I start humming Jingle Bells, let me recap the Halloween that never ended. We decided to have our second annual Halloween bash. Just like last year, I had my wonderful friend Robyn decorate the house with all of her stuff (I can't explain how much amazing, non-cheesy stuff she has accrued over her lifetime). Instead of being psychotic and decorating all in one night like we did last year, we spread it out over several nights (all of which included wine, which is completely essential when spider webbing is involved). 

In addition to decorating, planning the actual party, and oh-the normal chaos of every day, I must mention that Matt had several out-of-town work things. So he was pretty much gone for the three days prior to the party, and then for three days leading up to actual Halloween. Not so lovely. 

So costumes!!! I knew it was going to be pretty hard to beat last year's... I mean, Richard Simmons? Epic. 

I wavered between a few things, but them committed. Matt and I would be,.. drum roll... a couple of boobs. I saw a variation of it online, but I just wanted it to be better. I purchased my supplies from Joann Fabrics (I'm pretty sure every person that helped me asked what I was making. I should have just lied), ordered what I thought would be appropriate sized beach balls, and got to work. After attempting to make these costumes, I now have new, incredible respect for those people on Project Runway. It is hard to make something with no pattern or real idea of how you are going to go about it. Like, really really hard. The difficulty was increased for several reasons. 

-I was alone, so trying to drape and pin it around myself in the proper places was just downright impossible. 

-Matt was essentially gone all week, so making his with very limited time to try it on him/re-pin/etc made it ridiculous. 

-I don't sew, so using my no-sew tricks (stitch witchery) was a big pain in the booty. 

Fast-forward to 30 minutes before party time. It is crunch time. We go to put our costumes on in the midst of all of the last minute details and what happens? THEY FALL APART. Like ACTUALLY. FALL. APART. So all of the time that I would normally be putting out food, doing everything that you can only do right before a party starts... I am frantically taping us into our costumes. SO not awesome. Here is the best pic from the evening, that doesn't show the ghetto-ness that was the back and sides. The left boob's nipple placement is perfect, whereas the right boob is near nip-slip status: 

Another problem?? If we weren't standing right next to each other, no one really got what we were. And try maneuvering and hugging/greeting your guests with a beach ball in front of you. Half-way through the evening I did a self-boob reduction and was far more comfortable. :o) 

So somehow I managed to take ZERO pictures the entire night. And my house was utterly picture worthy. I managed to corral some pics from some amazeballs party-goers. Think multi-level webbing, perfect candlelit ambiance, phenomenal beverages... 

Witch's Blood Punch with a few stray fingers... 

Jello Shots in syringes? Check. 

Post-party I emailed myself a list of things I would change for next year, just for my own sanity. Number one on the list? NO HOMEMADE COSTUME EVER AGAIN. 

Sunday brought about a consistent cycle of sleeping and cleaning. Remember Reginald? My steam mop? Well, he saved my life. The love affair continues. 

Life continued post-party. About a schmillion years ago, I randomly found a special code to get tickets early to Disney on Ice: Frozen. I vaguely/not at all remember my thought process for the specific show I chose, but nonetheless our tickets were for the night before Halloween. After an extremely long day consisting of all the girls' school parades and parties (three parties in one day would drive anyone to drink, I swear), I set off on our crazy night. I had somehow been able to keep it a surprise from the girls. I worked it so that we met dear Aunt Lizard (my bff) near her house for dinner, proceeded to pick Matt up from the airport (BWI), and then went straight to the arena in Baltimore. I meticulously planned my timing and route: Pre-bought a parking pass for the garage nearest to the arena. Stealthily packed their costumes in case they wanted to wear them. Printed out our tickets. Somehow, someway, it worked out perfectly in EVERY way. Timing was fantastic. We waited until we had parked to tell them what we were doing. The pictures of course cannot relay the shrieks of joy that occurred. But it was awesome.

 

We got them changed in the car and went in. They perused the shockingly expensive toy/doll/random annoying light-up spinner station. 

We found our seats (which I had forgotten were ROCKIN. I'm talking like five rows up from the ice) and I forced them even closer to attempt a pic which just did not work out. 

I snagged a pic of a ridiculously adorable moment with my wonderful hubs. He was such a trooper, despite being exhausted from traveling all day .

The second it was over, Livi started flipping out saying, "I wanna see it again! Let's do it again!" A phenomenal family night that was seriously needed. 

So after what felt like the most endless Halloween in the history of the world, it finally arrived. The actual day was here. We obviously had to start the day out with orange pancakes: 

And I attempted different Halloween-related activities throughout the day (when in doubt, printing out random pics related to the holiday seems so exciting to them). 

For the bagillionth time, I put on their costumes and wigs (I'm shocked they all survived) for glorious trick-or-treating. 

I know the entire world were these characters (there were six Elsa's in Summer's class alone. SIX), but they look so stinkin cute. And their wigs are the best, if I do say so myself. China pulled through on that one. 

So I finally (and happily) put away the last little piece of webbing from all the decorations. My house looks completely empty... which is yet another reason I can't wait for CHRISTMAS!!!!

TGIF!

Pimples and 'Nuggling...

Dear Skin on my face, 

I have a bone to pick with you. Actually three bones. Three bones that are red bumps, also known as pimples. NOT okay. Now I understand and most definitely appreciate how well you stuck by me all these years, relatively blemish-free. I can only really remember you failing me roughly five times, most of which were near my hairline and the week before my monthly friend. My best friends in high school would try to smash my face in greasy pizza to try to get something to show up (all in good fun). You stayed strong then. Yes, you have been good to me. You saved me so much typical teenage angst, and for that I will be forever grateful. 

Which brings me to this past week. If it happened to slip your mind, I am thirty. AND a half. I know you didn't forget that because those fine lines are appearing (which are so not okay either!). These three little bumps. Yes, two are near my hairline and I realize my oftentimes maniacal mane can cover those acceptably. The third-- I mean did you really have to go for my nose? It already has its issues, there is NO need for additional attention. I realize I am making a big deal over this which is silly-- and clearly I am more vain than I thought-- but why now? I have no experience covering these up. I have zero products to serve them. I don't know what to do. So please. Can we go back to the way things were? If I am overreacting, I apologize. I just thought we were friends. So stop.

xoxo
me

See??? I didn't fall off the face of the earth! I have been busy getting pimples! I have questioned many times in the last few weeks why I can't seem to get a stinkin moment to write. And I finally figured it out. Her name is the Livi Monster. So Layla is in school 4 1/2 days a week, and Livi is there for two. On those two blessed days that I have a few hours without children, I try to cram every errand and task in that is humanly possible. Which means I get like three things done (Sidenote... a mom friend totally warned me about this phenomenon and she couldn't be more right). So the other three days a week, it is just me and Olivia... which would seem like a simple task. One kid? Pshaw. That is like so four years ago. The difference between my one kid then and my one kid now is that my one kid now has almost no experience being by herself. There is always chaos, sisters, cousins, madness. You'd think she would enjoy the downtime. I mean, I would imagine she would. But her enjoyment comes from requiring-- no, demanding-- all of my attention. ALL the time. I'll try to make things I HAVE to get done like laundry or cleaning the bathroom into a game with her, but she gets over that real quick. So I have the ever constant, "Mommy look at this." "Mommy, need help here!" "Mommy, I want you so bad." "Mommy, I wanna 'nuggle you." 

So. Forgive me for my sporadic posts. Just know that in addition to not getting anything done, instead of getting a chance to write, know that I am 'nuggling with my nugget while I still have the chance. 

Happy Thursday!!