Things That Aren't Perfect Despite My Best Efforts

Dirty Moms.

20 Feb posted by heirtoblair

Hi. I'm wearing old jeans & an oversized sports shirt but my hair is clean & I'm wearing a bra.

This past week, Curvy Girls Guide posted a guest piece on “Why I’m Not a ‘Dirty Mom’.” You know, the moms that roll up in sweatpants & three-day hair under a baseball cap on the regular because there’s nobody to impress in the carpool lane. To sum it up, there was this gal that wrote a piece about how we females should dump the frump & put on some eyeliner to show ourselves & society some respect.

I read this piece in yoga pants stuffed into my beloved UGG boots with second-day hair & no make-up.

Oops.

Then there were the comments (because everyone knows the most entertaining part of blogging is the comments), ranging from “ROCK ON!” to “YOU SELF-IMPORTANT BITCH, I AM TRAINING MY CHILDREN TO BE FUTURE WORLD LEADERS SO STEP OFF MY NON-COVERGIRL NUTS.” I know it’s the kiss of death in blogging to sit on the fence, but I admit that on this topic? I’m straddling the fence & hoping I don’t get a camel toe from it.

ccaf2e6a362211e19896123138142014 7 300x300 Dirty Moms.

...but sometimes I look like this.

I’m a total crap-shoot as a mom when it comes to fashion. I either look cute or I look like a dog& there’s really not too much in-between. I could blame my workload but I’m going to be honest – my physical appearance is usually a good indicator of my mental health. If I look pretty, it means it’s a good day & I’m feeling self-confident & in control. My to-do list is being checked off, dinner is planned, & the kid’s face is scrubbed. If I’m in yoga pants, it’s probably because they were the first thing on top of the laundry pile that I managed to recognize. But sometimes, even when all I want are Doug’s tshirts & to never see a bottle of shampoo again, I put on jeans & a flannel & a little blush. It’s not much, but it does make me feel human & doesn’t send me into a spiral of shame when I run into a neighbor at Target.

So I smell what K.C. Wells is steppin’ in. Putting effort into myself tells me & society that “hey! I care about myself! I’m more than a momma in a carpool lane!” I think it’s important to put my best & freshest face forward on the regular & at the risk of feminist backlash, I think it’s nice for my husband to see me in more than a ponytail when he loves my hair down & curly.

On the other hand, she should have used a different word than “dirty.” Getting primped isn’t something I necessarily enjoy. I like getting my hair cut & I desire to be pretty, but I have never had the patience for a hairstyle that takes more than 5 minutes or a make-up routine that requires sponges & brushes. But I’m not “dirty.” I shower on the regular & I shave my legs & visit the dentist every six months. I would simply rather be chasing Harrison outside than curling my hair & I’ll always choose reading a book over painting my nails. That doesn’t make me a better mom, nor does it make me dirty. It just makes me…me.

So sometimes I’m a walking commercial for Ann Taylor & sometimes I look like I’m headed to the gym when in truth, I haven’t had a gym membership since 2007.

But I promise if you hug me, I don’t smell.

42 Comments
Filed Under: Adult Club, All about BA, Finding Balance, Life in General, Never Have I Ever, Sorta Staying Home, Things that aren't perfect despite my best efforts, Unpopular opinions

Superheroes to the rescue!

16 Feb posted by heirtoblair

Be prepared to die a thousand deaths thanks to Little People, who now make SUPERHERO LITTLE PEOPLE. Shut up forever, Little People. You are officially my favorite.

weekend1 Superheroes to the rescue!

We had a great second showing & they put is in their “top 3 list” & hope to make a decision this week. We might have been creepers that passed them on the way out & swung around the neighborhood to go take a peek as they got out of the car & yes, they look like folks that could really love our house. They’re one concern was a “boarded up house” behind us & I was like, “Um, our neighbor’s shed that he’s building?” so the realtors are setting that straight because dudes, it’s a shed. & the guy is doing a great job on it. So basically this means we are on TWO people’s “top 3 list” & both folks are making a decision this week. I’d really like a bidding war, please.

weekend2 Superheroes to the rescue!

My days as a SAHM are numbered, which is bittersweet but my WAHM days are rocking my face clean off because I get to hug my kid after a conference call, or head down & have lunch with him. Microsoft has asked if I could book a few more hours & since we’ll need the cash for a down payment for our next house, I am thrilled.

(a few have asked what do I do for microsoft via the twitters & the emails. right now i’m helping develop/run a faculty campaign for windows azure, which is a cloud system. i’m also assisting with their student blogging program. it’s fun stuff when you’re nerdy like me.)

Until then, flowers & Tagalongs & personal angst.

16 Comments
Filed Under: Adult Club, All about BA, Giving back, Life in General, Moving on up, Things that aren't perfect despite my best efforts

For my Valentine.

14 Feb posted by heirtoblair

I can hear the sound of our day winding down – laundry rolling behind closed doors & Doug pouring a beer after work & Harrison running his school bus over the wood floors. I know these sounds, so dear to my heart, this rhythm our family has found.

Harrison opens the bedroom door & cracks a smile, finding me in the dark because it’s been ten hours since I settled in when the daylight was enough. I’ve been working eight hours, ten hours, & it’s looking like I will hit twelve before my presentation is complete with an 8pm deadline.

I wonder if Doug is disappointed that I have no Valentine for him. I wonder if he knows that like every year, I had the best of intentions but they slipped right through my fingers. That I adore the pink roses he brought me on Sunday & I regret that I have nothing to give him in return. I wonder if he minds that I’ll wear yoga pants to dinner, where I’ll serve up a frozen lasagna with an apologetic smile.

At least there will be wine.

Because love doesn’t know dates & red heart candy, as delicious as it is. Love knows & gives with the hard days & sweatpants & the pulled up half-smile that says, “I’m sorry, but this is the best I can do right now.” Love relaxes into that unpredictable life rhythm & messy hair by candlelight becomes romance.

valentines2012 For my Valentine.

I love you, Douglas. Thank you for loving me.

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Filed Under: Adult Club, All about BA, Finding Balance, holidays, Life in General, The I Do's, Things that aren't perfect despite my best efforts

There was no sleep & then there was good news.

1 Feb posted by heirtoblair

If you’re following me on Twitter, you know the personal hell our family of three has been facing for the last two weeks:

It’s called a toddler that decided sleep is for the birds.

That was at 4am. He finally conked out at 4:30am.

He has two nightlights.
It’s not night terrors (those have an entirely different cry).
He has loveys.
He’s not hungry or thirsty.
He really doesn’t need to drop his nap because he’s not napping 50% of the time anyway.

Basically? He wants to eff with us. Which might be a strong sentiment except I’ve only had one cup of coffee & four hours of sleep.

(also, the difference between a newborn being awake all hours & a toddler being awake all hours is the amount of noise. when a newborn is awake, at least one parent can sleep. when a toddler is awake, even folks in china hear him.)

It started innocently right around the time I lost my job & we feel for the little guy because it’s obvious he feels the stress in the house. There have been a lot of changes in his wee world over the past few months & my heart goes out to him. First Daddy was home a bit, then we were both at work, then Momma came home & he’s overjoyed but missing his Auntie & why isn’t anything the same anymore?! But Momma needs her REM cycle back & more importantly, the kiddo does too. After nights of rocking & rocking & rocking in the small hours of the day & Doug camping out on a pallet in his room, & purchasing a star turtle & giving him warm milk, we realized yesterday that it was time to pull out the big guns. All three of us were at each other’s throats constantly from pure exhaustion. I snapped at Harrison, something I very rarely do. So Doug & I shook hands & decided that last night was the night.

We dusted off our Ferber book & got the stopwatch on my iPhone working.

We turned Harrison’s lock around so that we could lock him in, thereby taking back control of his ability to leave his room. (shall I pause here & clarify that we still go to him, but it means homeboy can’t sneak out at 3am? good.)

We took out his workbench & garbage trucks.

I turned off his light at the fan so that he can’t party all night long under a ceiling light. (oh buddy, did that piss him off!)

& we hit the sack by 9pm.

I got a pretty awesome workout going back & forth to his room last night, calmly telling him to “Get back in bed, it’s night-night time.” Tuck him in, give him a pat on the back, & close the door behind me. I’m hoping that tonight it won’t take 2 1/2 hours for it to sink in that Momma ain’t fooling around. Also, this is what we woke up to this morning:

I think it’s fair to say he was pretty ticked that Harrison Rave 2012 was thwarted.

____________________________

& in good news, the reason that Momma can’t hang at 4am anymore is because I got an offer from Microsoft as a contract for their marketing department.

SAY WHAT?!

It’s a contract so I’m still on the hunt for a full-time job with bennies. The great news is that the contract is on my terms as far as how many hours I work per week & when the contract ends & they fully understand that I am still looking for a job. So Harry is with his Auntie a few hours per week so I can log in some hours at home & take conference calls & keep interviewing with other companies. What’s that you say, Charlie? WINNING.

Photo 3 There was no sleep & then there was good news.

Remember how you didn't want me as an admin? That's cool. Microsoft thinks I'm worth bringing in to their marketing department. So have a seat, please.

111 Comments
Filed Under: FAIL, Harry in General, I wish parenting came with a manual, Life in General, My kid hates me, Pass the Unisom, Potential for Doocing, Sorta Staying Home, Things that aren't perfect despite my best efforts, Toddlers eat your brains, Unpopular opinions

I probably should pull out the old baby monitor & start using it as a walkie-talkie.

26 Jan posted by heirtoblair

901a8c6c456611e1a87612313804ec91 7 300x300 I probably should pull out the old baby monitor & start using it as a walkie talkie. I try to be all badass Super Nanny but this crazy thing happened once I got all healed & whole & less twisty inside – I cannot bear to hear my child cry. & not in the way that sent me screaming for the shower every night at six months postpartum, but that it feels like my gut has been ripped out & flipped over my head & I’m wading knee-deep in my uterus. THAT is what it feels like when my child cries for me.

So when Harrison starts screaming at bedtime & I’ve told him firmly to get back in bed three separate times, he stares up at me with tears falling & says, “Up!!” oh, my heart.

I find myself all sternly inner-dialoguing how I’m setting us up for failure when he’s three as I make my way to the rocking chair. But then I remember how I’m knee-deep in my uterus & how soon, Harry will be going to sleepovers where he will be embarrassed to ever admit he was rocked to sleep & I can’t help myself. I sit & I rock & tell him stories about the man on the moon until he’s calm. His heartbeat slows & his breathing steadies & I know he’s asleep because that’s the kind of thing that mother’s just know.

He’s drooling on my shoulder. It’s time to put the kiddo to bed, but in his earlier rage, all blankets & pillows ended in a pile on the floor. Which means that I have to get up from the chair & put the bedding back together with 30 lbs of live ammunition on my shoulder. Doug to the nursery, I think into the universe. I wait a few minutes. Hey, buddy. To the nursery for pillow recon.

I contemplate the length of my legs, wondering if I can grab the pillow corner with my toes & toss it into the bed. If I can do that, then I’ll have a legit excuse to run away with the circus. I feel the drool seeping through my jammies. The kid stirs & I freeze & send imaginary red flares into the sky. & I’m all WHY IS HE NOT READING MY ESP?! DOUG TO THE NURSERY! DOUG TO THE NURSERY!

What good is being married almost six years if he can’t read my mind?