Are Unicorns Real?

I remember when Christmas lost it's magic in my adolescence. My parents had been in and out of separation and my dad knew that the jig was up about Santa so they just wrapped the presents and left them under the tree as they bought them. I was about 12, and I was left home alone from time to time when my dad was working extra. So every time I was home alone I'd pick under that tree and shake things to see if I got what I wanted on the list. By Christmas morning all of my predictions were not only true, but it totally took away all the fun and any kind of surprise.

I always loved the innocence of imagination and getting lost in fantasy-type stuff. This is why my favorite movie of all time remains, The Princess Bride. Believing that X-Files was partially true was way better than facing what was going on at home. The idea that Pleasantville was remotely possible was fun to imagine. And I was that almost-teenager at Disney who still wanted to meet characters and believed in the magic of it all. 

My daughter came home the other day and said "Mom, so and so said that unicorns aren't real. Are unicorns real?" I said "Yeah! I definitely think they are," with gusto! Why wouldn't I? Being in the magic with kids, is everything and when they lose that, things get a little less fun.

When I nanny-ed for so long, I used to rebuff any of their "realizations" because I never wanted some kid to ruin it for them. It was my job to protect them, not make them grow up. There is some version of Santa for everyone, but anyone who ruins the magic for my child purposefully might get a throat-punch, just saying. 

At a birthday party last weekend my daughter announced that her mom said there were unicorns and the birthday girl said, "Are there really unicorns?" I said, "I certainly think there are." Her little face lit up.

In my house, instead of Elf on the Shelf, which I have issues with, we have Sandy Klaws. This isn't some thing to "make my child act right." This is a character from A Nightmare Before Christmas, a household favorite movie that carries us from Halloween to Christmas, and all he does is create mischief. Every day she wakes up wondering what he did. It's so fun, and she loves it. Here he is:

She actually believes that Sandy Klaws, who is the size of a Barbie I might add, put together her loft bed on Christmas Eve and rearranged her room. For a second, I wanted the credit because we did all the work after all. The next morning she awoke to Sandy Klaws having put together her dollhouse. Again, I wanted the credit! But the way she runs to school to tell these tales and loves them so much, makes it all worth it.

I love that she believes that the entire realm of My Little Pony exists. I love that at Disney she thinks she's met all the characters from her favorite movies and that pixie dust protects her at home. She deserves to have that fun and innocence and it always makes me sad when kids get jaded out of it. 

By age 13, I was that kid. I got hit so hard by reality that I lost the ability to believe in nonsense. Now watching Mary Poppins and Hook and such, I realize how much growing up stinks and I miss the days where I truly believed that when my cousin got Jumanji for Christmas, we would end up IN the game!

I guard the magic for my daughter, pretty carefully. I fully enforce all magic and whimsy. A few years ago we took my best friend and her 3 almost-teen girls to Harry Potter World, and she said she didn't know who looked like they were more impressed and entranced, me or her children. If you're going to go in, go ALL IN.

At Disney, magic is everywhere and so easy to perpetuate. I never regret any money or time we have spent there because my daughter remembers how much fun and adventure we had in that realm. She recounts conversations with characters and getting autographs. She believes that characters actually bought her those free Mickey Bars she used to get. 

So, damn straight unicorns are real! We live in a world where kids being allowed to be kids is being restricted into smaller and smaller time frames. We keep them so busy and they are so immersed in all avenues of pop culture with social media, they can get jaded more easily. That innocence is a click away from disappearing altogether.

I protect my daughter's magic because that's part of being a mom. I've almost outed the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny out of exhaustion and bad planning, which wouldn't ruin her life, but I just want to give her a stellar childhood to walk into adult life with.

I loved the years of playing with my dolls, make-believe, playing outside, creating weird games, and having fun with my friends. I want more of the same for her and intend to guard it all.

So in my house, Unicorns are real. Santa and Sandy Klaws co-exist only Santa brings the presents and Sandy Klaws brings the silly. The Easter Bunny is real. The tooth fairy is real. When she hits her Harry Potter phase she better know that wands are totally real but won't work unless she's at Hogwarts and she can apply to Hogwarts if she wants. 

Whether other parents like it or not, I intend to be the Czar of Majestic Whimsy and will tell your children all magic exists. Even leprechauns, which are slightly offensive to gingers depending on the connotation, just saying. Stay innocent while you can, I intend to keep my kid that way as long as possible. 

Garage Sale Saturday

We live in a small neighborhood. I've heard a bit about a "homeowner's association," but our FHA loan specified we cannot be in an HOA...apparently ours is defunct or not real but theoretical? All I know is there an old man, in an old school, very sad looking golf cart that rides around smoking cigars and telling people what they shouldn't do and asking for dues. Seems like a legit set-up right?

Well once a year they do the community garage sale...or as I like to call it, pandemonium for leaving your damned house. Every home in this neighborhood has a minimum of a two car garage, and most residents don't have more than two cars. For some reason people still park on our very small streets. It gets to the point where you have to go two miles an hour to make sure you can squeeze through if two cars are parked on the same street across from each other. A fire truck would struggle any old day.

I learned during the hurricane that the reason the cars aren't in the garage, is because everyone is some level of hoarder, which actually makes garage sale day kind of interesting, if you don't live here. Doing something simple like leaving your driveway becomes the most aggravating part of your day. No one knows how to drive. Then you get stuck behind the people who need to slow down to look to see if anything catches their eye instead of parking. Did you feel the eye roll there?

It makes me super happy to have an escape and I pray for the end of the sales to be swift. On our way to Saturday morning routines I saw at least 5 other neighborhoods advertising their own community garage sales.

My daughter thinks garage sales are so amazing. And I recall having that same idea when I was her age. To me it was fascinating that people had so much stuff, but that you buy their stuff for cheap? That was awesome! My niece had a "garage-sale-ing" obsession too that drove my sister insane. I now know why.

I was happy to avoid our neighborhood like the plague. So much so that I bought my daughter a new craft kit just to keep her from asking to wander the neighborhood. It's not that I wouldn't let her have a few things, but we don't need more stuff.

I stopped pretending I would re-sell things and just give them all away because I feel like that's what I'm meant to do with them. They served me well and now someone else can use them. We always accept hand me downs and garage sales are just shopping hand me downs!

So many neighbors just have random, for lack of a better word, crap that they want to make money off of. It's rare that you find a good deal for an actual necessity. While I like to imagine that people are using the money for a good cause, I mean let's be real here. It's probably not that. Maybe they are figuring out a new appliance or upgrading something but they likely aren't about to toss it into the church offering.

While garage sales can be an adventure I dislike this day every year and this year it caught me by complete surprise. Luckily I was able to get errands done early today, so the inconvenience was minor, but I was in no rush to get home. 

We managed to push through unscathed and without so much as a quick dog walk tour of the goods. The shoppers were great people to watch though and I'm glad some neighbors got rid of their wares. Perhaps my enchantment with garage sale Saturdays will have another seasonal visit one day but for now, I'm happy not out people-ing. If you are out there "garage-sale-ing" make sure you have your negotiation skills ready for action and enjoy the weekend!

I'd Rather Not Be The Bad Day Blogger

The other day my best friend across an ocean messaged me. He messaged me this long message about his truly horrible day filled with work and boss dispute, a small injury and a broken water heater meaning, cold showers until it could be fixed. Although I very much love Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad day, all I could think was, he "Roseanna-Danna'd" me. 

Not to date myself here, but I was raised with amazing comedic appreciation including that of early and original SNL. Gilda Radner was a comedic genius in comedy and I loved her character on Weekend Update "Roseanne, Rosanna Danna." She had one person complaining in a letter which I then found in a Hallmark card years later for a favorite Aunt, and when I heard my friend's annoyed plea all I could hear and picture was her:

Honestly when he messaged me, I smiled. Not because he had a bad day, but because I loved that he wasn't complaining at me, but rather that after all of that, he wanted to come share the day with me as if thinking, "Ali will make me feel better." I offered all the good vibes and apologies for a yuck day promising a better tomorrow.

This morning was my turn for the bad day. If I'm being honest it's been a rough run all around. It's been quite a roller coaster and many tests of my anxiety, depressive whims and my ability to push through and adult. I'm anything but easy going and these past few weeks have been quite a trial for me.

Today was the breaking point and I really wanted to write it up as an "F this Friday." But I took a lot of deep breaths and pushed through. It was one of those crappy financial situations which wasn't the end of the world but really sucked. One of those things that wasn't your fault really, but wasn't arguable. It was a waste of money and resources, not to mention time, all of which I detest! It was not a great start to my day.

I figured I had a few choices: I could reach out to my co-complainers, aka my friends that always support my annoyances with the fact that they, too, would be annoyed by said situation. I could cry in my car, always good for a day to be not okay. OR, I could therapize through it, meaning using the tools from therapy to get me to not hit melt down mode.

I posted some Pinterest motivational pictures in a collage, and boy I LOVE a good collage, on Instagram and had some of my favorite people reach out to me and remind me I'm loved through the muck, especially when I'm hating myself, and that it's just a bad day. And then I sorted it all out. I felt better.

It was after a major talk session and some light complaining that I realized, not only am I not alone in this kind of thing, meaning it happens to the best of us, but just two days before I had a message from a bestie that exhibited the same kind of day. And then I was reminded of the always amazing skit of "Roseanne Rosanna Danna." I've left it below for your entertainment, but to sum up, rather than be the Bad Day Blogger, I'm with "Roseanne Rosanna Danna," "It's always something," and if it's not one list, it's another but the best thing we can do with it all, is at least have a laugh.

Happy Friday!

It Ended Up Being A Baseboard Day

Every weekend I clean. A lot. For many hours. Sometimes just Saturday. Sometimes I span it over two days, depending on my energy level. But every weekend I clean, like it or not.

After horseback riding lessons we got home and I had a small lunch type situation and then started my mental checklist. A friend who recently moved away left us an obscene amount and strange array of leftover cleaning supplies. I had slowly been using them for random things around the house, as I usually do vinegar based things and have some weird aversion to the smell some cleaning products, bleach especially.

I found an all purpose cleaner and looked down and realized...it had been a good month since I did the baseboards. I saw one particular spot that was completely gross. And then it began...and it ended up being a baseboard day. 

I can only speak for myself, but have to ask, does anyone else loathe doing baseboards? I have this weird wave of emotions and hilarious thoughts as soon as I start the task. It goes from, "I immediately regret this decision," to thoughts like, "oh my gosh, how gross are we living?" 

I start and I'm like, "Hey this isn't that bad." But as I progress I'm like, "Ugh why did I even start this? Well I already started it so I have to finish now. How did dirt get there?" Before you know it, I'm internally having a full on conversation with myself, and therefore have entered crazy town. 

I was cleaning the baseboards thinking of writing this blog and how, you have to get in all these weird uncomfortable positions to clean them, and reach all these weird angles. All of the sudden, then I wonder, why do we even have baseboards and why did I arrange the furniture to make this so difficult? Again, cleaning the baseboards becomes some weird internal philosophical conversation. It's so strange how my mind wanders when I'm doing cleaning tasks.

Cleaning the baseboards is gratifying and annoying all at the same time, and I totally wish it were less exhausting, but when I'm done I feel that amazing sense of accomplishment. So I'm bending and squatting and conforming and scrubbing, all to clean the dog hair and every day life of the spot that buffers the wall and the floor. All the while my daughter is scurrying around clearing her messes and getting ready for a play date.

I finally start to see the light at the end of the tunnel and then hit that mental wall about the rest of the things I need to clean. There's a huge part of me that gets a sense of pride knowing that I'm the one who does the bulk of the cleaning in my own home. My husband has recently been a huge, huge help and even the kiddo pitches in from time to time but mostly it's all me that keeps up with the chores and maintenance making the house a home.

Of course I dream about having a house cleaner and not having to spend my weekends cleaning, and if I ever had room in the budget I would spend it on freeing up my time in that way, but I also like knowing when I cleaned what and with what supplies. I think it's more of that control in the chaos thing that I live by. I love knowing there are certain things I have full control over, no matter what else is going on in my life. And cleaning arranging is one of those easy things to manage.

I always sleep better when I have a clean house. I can start my week successfully knowing that kicked butt at home ownership and did all my necessary chores. I also feel better mental health-wise knowing that I keep my house tidy and the filth minimal. 

So today ended up being a baseboard day. And in some ways that was not at all what I had in mind. In other ways I'm glad I decided to get that done so it was one less thing for me to do tomorrow or next week. There will always be a to-do list. The husband will always have a "honey-do" list. There are times to kick back and ignore the chores and then there are baseboard days. Whatever your Saturday brings, I hope you get that sense of accomplishment too!

Really Big Questions Before Coffee

I spent the first four years of my daughter's life doing everything for her in the morning. I would try to get up earlier than her to sneak some quiet. Until you have a child, you do not appreciate silence. And silence, in my humble opinion, is at it's best while sipping coffee. 

I leave really early for work so morning time with my daughter is sporadic. Sometimes she is snoozing with dad and the pug and I'm the last wake up call before I pop out of the house. Sometimes she comes into the bathroom to supervise the get ready process and talk at me. My daughter doesn't stop talking from the time she wakes up, until the time she goes to bed. Laugh all you want, this isn't an exaggeration.

This morning was a pop-into the bathroom morning and she was ready to talk about everything. Unfortunately, I inadvertently left the best question right in front of her.

Not to be oversharing but after months of deliberation I just switched from Tampax to the Lunette Cup, and all I can say is it's a huge game changer, and I recommend it for anyone. I come from an environment of period-shamers and the cup has had some pretty awesome results in terms of my comfort and confidence in that arena.

I had just cleaned it this morning and left it out to dry when my daughter walked in. "Mommy, what is that?" She pointed directly at the cup. Oh man, do I have to give an anatomy lesson at 6:45? I haven't even started to boil the water for my COFFEE!

I gave her a small explanation for it's purpose and about my period but told her we could certainly talk more about it as she got older. Then came another big question: "Mommy, like how did I grow up and get so big like, how does that all happen?" Oh my gosh do I have to explain babies now? I haven't had toast or anything!

Again, a mild and dialed down version was given to her about everything and then it was: "Can I have make-up? What's that called? Why do you have two different brushes? Which one goes on your eyes? Will you wear pink today? Can you make me breakfast before you go? Can I wear my shirt from Sophia today? Can you help me find it? Did you know I didn't even hear you go to Boot Camp? I was still asleep! Was Daddy snoring a lot?"

I don't even think I can type as fast as she hurls the questions in my direction. There are so many wonderful things that come out of these conversations, but they are also exhausting. Because of life circumstances my daughter is just that kid that needs to know the plan. And mom is the planner. And when things don't go accordingly to plan, it can get upsetting so I've paid close attention to helping her navigate her feelings around all those things.

She knows the 1st Friday in August we're planning on a vacation to see PA and NY family. She knows every Saturday at the same time we have horseback riding lessons and every so often, she can switch that Saturday lesson for a different event. She needs to know how her day will look. Who is she playing with? Who is putting her to bed? Is it a normal bed time or flexible?

She is all questions and Mom is all answers. Some of the huge questions, I'm like "Uh, we'll find a video or book to better explain that." Once she asked me how did "dinosaurs get extinct?" That's a complicated question and even Land Before Time didn't really tell us everything and Jurassic Park would just scare her so, yeah. That's a long conversation, not a quick and simple answer.

We talk a lot about boobs and bodies and make-up. We talk about clothes, and ponies and friend problems. I try to steer her in the right direction with her questions but also not let her be too gossipy or dramatic, just the right amount of those. There's also a part of me that wants to enjoy that she's even asking me anything and wants to hear what I have to say.

I'm not that mom that's afraid to talk about vaginas and anatomy and how things work. I make sure she knows the right words for body parts and bodily functions and such. My child's vocabulary has always been vast and impressive, so I tell her what everything means. To my embarrassment, yes, mine is the child at the store that will announce, "Mom my vagina is really itchy!" She also likes to tell people she's "as tall as mom's boobs!"

But, again, I'd rather her have the answers to the questions, even if the answers aren't so awesome. Recently she came home talking to me about some boy telling her about Chucky, yes the doll that kills people. He told her about Chucky coming to get her and kill her dog and knives and such. I shut that down quick. I told her, Chucky is fake. He's pretend. He's a fake character with special effects made to scare people in movies and he won't hurt her. I wish I could yell at that kid. Six year old children have no need to know about CHUCKY!

The big questions before my coffee always come from curiosity, which I love and encourage just how much she wants to know about everything. It's hard to not squash that with an "I don't know, I don't care, or just be quiet," when life gets tough and I've tuned into the fact that I may have been doing that, even unconsciously. I've had many discussions with the husband about how, as a little girl, it's so important that she feels like she can be heard and say what she wants to say, even if it seems like nonsense to us.

Weekday mornings I'm always in "a hurry," and I remind her often to please not be "in my way," but this morning I made some time for her really big questions. Sometimes they need to be "continued" at a different time when mommy can function better. But most often, even as they seem annoying when I'm not at my best mom moments, I'd rather have her ask me everything than not talk to me at all. 

She's still my baby and is learning and absorbing EVERYTHING. There is plenty of time for her to keep things from me and give me the silent treatment when I piss her off. For now I really want to talk about the make-up brushes, my period, My Little Pony and extinct dinosaurs, even if it's before coffee. 

I Am A Serial Plant Killer

I just finished devouring all of The Ted Bundy Tapes on Netflix and while, as an American, I'm naturally intrigued by serial killers and love crime drama type things, it has brought to light my own issues, which include my penchant for killing plants. I am a serial killer...of plants.

This isn't a malicious thing. I don't hunt and attack the plants. But if you give me a plant to water and care for, I will kill it. I mean, come and look at my yard. I'm the complete opposite of any kind of green thumb at all. I'm the black thumb...black death.

My problem is, I don't really care about plants, and again it's not like I want to purposefully hurt them, they just aren't on my radar. I keep my dog and my kid alive and healthy. The same just cannot be said for plants.

I haven't been given many plants, but I inevitably kill them all. I have at least a dozen that have met their demise under my care. I do okay with a bouquet of flowers but those are eventually supposed to die so I feel no remorse there. In the past few years though, I have received too many plants that have not survived me.

After the car accident people gave us a few "Our thoughts are with you" types of plants. These were simple grocery store or Lowe's garden section plants. Nothing impressive really, but they barely lasted a week. I forget to water. Or I over-water, or they get no air or sunlight. They are neglected. Even outdoor plants get neglected. Why water them? Ever heard of rain?

It was about a year and a half ago when we had a house warming that a church friend gave me a "mother-in-law" or snake plant type thing and said, "Don't worry, this thing is actually hard to kill." This one lasted the longest of any plant that I have received but I did, eventually, kill it. I think it was able to live with me about 7 months. Never would I claim that this plant thrived.

I even consciously wanted to keep that damned plant alive with no luck! The plants hate me, we just do not get along.

And now for my daughter's birthday my cousin got her something super cool, interactive and thoughtful...succulents. I think we may have already lost one or two. I've replanted with proper soil and am watering, sunning and trying, but I have made no promises to these plants. I fear the worst.

I watch other people who love plants and I'm in awe. I feel like I lack that capacity to adore and care for plant life. I can match outfits, arrange, organize, file, clean, type, write, even sew, but things involving plants are just not my forte. If it were up to me, we wouldn't even have a yard, just a huge screened enclosure with firepit, grill, and hot tub. Not kidding.

I love nature. I was raised in nature and with a deep respect for nature and it seems I may be one of the only people in my entire family who has no interest in caring for plant life and keeping it happy and alive. I have seriously and serially killed all plants that have come into contact with me. I may not be Bundy-style deranged and psychopathic but these poor plants have never even seen it coming!

Perhaps I'm too focused on my own personal growth!

One Month In And Tonight I Barely Made It

I'm a month into my year of posting successfully! I'm pretty proud of myself right now, if I may say so. And tonight I really just want to go to bed, but we had a big epic day. So I shall recap for my readers.

This morning was super Saturday filled with Birthday fun. My dad is in town, Luna had horseback riding lessons, her birthday party and a birthday dinner with our closest family. We did it!

Horseback riding was amazing. She did so well, like, you can see all my money going to a fantastic place. She listened so well and earned a cupcake!

She had some down time after with a real lunch and then I did some errands and picked up the my little pony cake. She put on her fancy dress and let down her hair and we were off.

The birthday party was at the bowling alley. Nine children bowling was the most hilarious thing ever. What gorgeous chaos. So wonderful to watch and take in. After pizza and cake we hit the arcade. Then we gave out party favors and came home. 

We brought a little friend home with her to play. This was my best idea ever because she immediately had fun that didn't involve us getting ready for company. It was time to get ready to host dinner. And my husband was making my favorite: tacos.

Whenever we have company he cooks for like 100, never for the number we will actually have. We also are never on time. Whenever I tell someone to come over, I think we'll eat within 30 minutes of arrival. It's almost always over an hour. 

We ate tacos, more cake and we visited with what we consider our Florida family. After this day I feel exhausted and blessed. We had all of our favorite kiddos with their parents there to celebrate the big 6. We had family over to visit and celebrate this growing child of mine.

Now it's crawling towards 10PM and I just want to crawl into my bed. So thank you all for a first wonderful month of my journey. Tomorrow I will have the capacity to enjoy more writing, probably during the Superbowl and after cake and wine, this tired mama will be heading to bed soon. Until tomorrow readers! 

Moment to Moment Motherhood, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

In my house, mornings are rough. Not for me personally, but it seems my dog, my daughter and especially my husband wake up in such grouchy ways more often than not. With my dog, I just feed him and he goes back to bed. Depending on when my daughter attempts to be awake for the day, I send her back to snuggle with the dog and the husband or she wakes up slowly with every light on and whines at me as I scramble for coffee.

My husband is the worst to wake up. I used to think it was a "Not a morning person," thing but now I just know it's some kind of weird dysfunction. We're working through it. I'm up at the same time every day doing some kind of work-out and then getting myself ready for work with lunch packed and attempting to look reasonably put together to leave by 7:20AM. This usually occurs before anyone else is physically out of bed. Sometimes I throw together breakfast for my daughter if she catches me on the move.

This morning we had mostly good moments. My daughter heard me in the shower and came in brightly and said, "Hi mom!" As soon as I started getting ready she wanted to get dressed with me and sat on the toilet by vanity area and mirror to catch mommy time before work. I have a strict  "Don't be in the way," rule, not because I'm a strict mom but because I have serious "Mommy brain" and when I try to do everything for her in the midst of getting myself ready, I leave the house without things like mascara or worse, with it only on one eye.

She was listening well though. I was straightening my hair and she was somehow impressed. My hair isn't even curly compared to hers and I reminded her my little flat iron was an iron so it was hot. "Mom can you just do that to a small piece of my ponytail? PLEASE?" I did. "Whoa, it's so warm," she said. Then she wanted to know my step by step make up routine, even though she'd seen it a million times. "What's that? What's it for!? Why?" All of it.

I don't remember my mom wearing anything but blush ever. She wasn't a make up person, as to my knowledge, and still isn't. I missed out on make-up, hair stuff and any girl maintenance with my mother. She was never "maternal" in that way, okay she just wasn't really maternal. She dressed me in overpriced name brands to match and look cool though. Any funny shirt or things plastered with expensive brands on them were mine to keep up appearances.

Because of this, the popular girls used to love to "Make me up." It was all very "Mean Girls" Regina George-Cady Heron drama. I had one friend my junior year in high school who actually showed me how to buy and wear, and I've tweaked everything since then to try and look presentable. Every time my daughter says she wants make-up I say, "You have perfect little skin, you have a beautiful face and nothing to hide. You don't need make-up." One of her favorite parts of Halloween was I let her wear eye shadow. She did not enjoy removing the make-up later.

Back to this morning, she was very interested in it all and I humored her. A little powder here and a little powder there but she wanted the coveted eye shadow. I would never do that on a school day. Maybe a weekend. She has fancy chap stick of her own that my sister got her, but fake make-up and soapy kinds of things give her a rash with that sensitive skin so we use caution. Luckily I don't buy fancy enough make-up to worry about sharing with her so, from time to time we get girly.

The moments this morning were cute, so I slowed down and indulged. Most of my life feels like a rush of "Get here, get this done and fast." So, letting Luna hang with me this morning felt okay, until the tantrum. There is always a tantrum.

She gets easily frustrated with...everything. I totally understand this because so do I. But I have years of learning how to internalize everything under my belt. So she was getting dressed and first was the fit about the pants being so difficult to get on and she needed help. She is almost 6. She doesn't need help. She just wanted my attention. And then it was the end all be all, she could only get on one sock. The other was just impossible!

I laughed a little. Not 5 minutes before it was all cutesy Hallmark moments. It could have been something on a commercial for any bathroom product or even a PSA. And then it was world's end. It can switch so quickly. It's the good moments that keep our head above water though, and that can be easily forgotten.

Motherhood, and parenthood in general, can be ugly, and we often wish to just cover all the blemishes in different forms of make-up. Family life is messy. Okay, LIFE is messy. There's poop, boogers, hair pulling, screaming, crying and tantrums and that's just the parents! Funny right? It's all of us, but especially little kiddos, and as a mom, I'm often the one crying. Sometimes it's a happy cry but still! These are the moments, the good, the gross, the bad, the ugly. 

I realize more and more how important those little cuddles are. Those little moments between the angry sock tantrums, being mad I said no, crying about a toy or telling me a story about someone being mean at school and it ruined the whole day just make parenting less heavy feeling. Think about how much we spend and stress on Christmas, but Christmas morning it all disappears when she sees the loot and is so excited that wishes came true! It's the good moments that make up for the bad and ugly ones. Keep them close, and your little ones too!  

It's often best, well this is for me at least, to live moment to moment. Big scheme things and the future can get murky, but knowing that you'll carve out 20 minutes to let your daughter read to you? That can get you through all the spreadsheets, sales reports or customer service you might need to for the day. A funny thing she said can make your week. But most of all, these moments are just affirmations you're raising a great human. So keep up the good fight, even in the bad and ugly moments. And maybe keep some make up on hand in case. 

My Parents Were Never As Nice To Me, As I Am To My Daughter...Or So We Tell Ourselves

Have you ever gotten one of those brilliant ideas based on a memory from your childhood that embodies a sense of nostalgia but also makes you so excited to share with your little one as well? In my experience, these often blow up in my face. But maybe that's just me.

I had a normal kid childhood. LOTS of playing outside, roller skating, riding bike, getting dirty, and plenty of swimming in the summer. Living with a little one in Florida has its hurdles but as soon as my little one was of age, I wanted to do all the things with her. The first lesson in outdoor fun was her getting bitten by weird creatures that left welts and discolored bruises or a rash. Now when we go visit Oregon and Pennsylvania, her favorite thing is being barefoot with no ant bites. And less humidity.

Swimming for me was a mess. I still can't swim well, but my daughter is a much better swimmer than I could ever be. I was the kid who got tossed into the deep end and could just barely dog paddle. At least we eased into it with my daughter. As someone with water issues, I was very receptive to any extra anxiety she could have. But she is like a little fish!

Now roller skating was the worst idea I've ever had. I think the first time we tried she was 4. Oh my gosh. They now have these ridiculous "trainers" which are like rolling walkers like old people use to help keep you up. I have a few things to say about this: When your skates get caught under them, you instantly trip and...my parents would have never paid for one of those things. In fact, I don't remember my parents "taking me" skating. I got dropped off and dragged around that rink with cousins or friends and if you fell? Too bad so sad, get up before you get rolled over! You just kept trying! Over and over!

For riding bicycle I remember my dad helping me a lot but my daughter and I just fight. She has legitimately fallen maybe once. The others were more like tip overs and she never even bled. I was the queen of falling off my bike. But if you stayed to cry, you got left behind. I push my daughter to just go! We fight and she'll relive those days in therapy I'm sure. Because I refuse to let her quit, or not learn how to ride a bike. I am determined to make sure we will ride together one day, no matter how much she whines.

As far as getting dirty, my kid is too much like me. I used to say I disliked getting dirty, but then I would spend a weekend with my little boy cousins and that would go right out the window. I always was outside making things with nature, picking plants, playing with and collecting rocks and having adventures. My daughter is the same. While other girls are playing make-up and nails, she is making rock islands and villages and all kinds of things with dirt and sticks and mud. And that's how it should me, in my humble opinion.

Don't get me wrong, she has a tablet. She is definitely a kid in the technological, smart phone world but these aren't things that keep us from being outside and certainly they don't keep us from play dates and other interactions. We keep all that stuff as low key as possible. I still believe kids need to be kids. 

In general, I have to say that I feel I'm way nicer to my daughter than my parents were to me. I don't remember being allowed to sneak into bed or do much more than use the bathroom in the middle of the night. I almost never got to pick what was on TV or what we watched. They took me to some movies and transported me to and from play dates but rarely stayed for the duration. And I was that weird kid that LOVED having a babysitter because my parents were lame. 

I know there are a lot of jokes about  parents and kids getting softer, being coddled and it was never like that "back in my day." There is some truth to it but mostly you figure out what works for you at the time that you're parenting. Sometimes I can be so calm and supportive and helpful to my little one. Other days I'm screaming at her because I asked 4 times already to put the damn shoes away! We all have our moments.

I like taking my daughter to do stuff. We had 3 epic years of Disney fun and memories. We have beach adventures and do crafting things, we go see movies, hit the zoo and aquarium, we do park play dates and get treats. Maybe my parents enjoyed some of those things too, or maybe they just suffered through for my enjoyment. You never know. 

I'm sure Luna will one day report I was not nice. I do speak fluent sarcasm, that's for sure, but I try and be "nicer" than the generation before me. I definitely have had moments where I've uttered the same things my parents did in my childhood that haunt me. Things about making extra messes when I clean and don't ruin my nice things. I then immediately feel bad and give them a treat because...I'm nicer to my daughter than my parents ever were to me! 

Play Dates: A Mom's Best Friend

My daughter and a neighborhood friend are currently in a fort play-dating it up and this is amazing because I'm able to write, or watch a movie, fold laundry and breathe. Play dates, in my humble opinion, can be a mother's best friend.

Play dates with kids under one, are more for the mothers to just interact and we kind of just watch the little ones roll around and steal each other's toys. Once kids hit about 3, you relish the time when another little friend helps them expel some energy and entertains them. Now at almost-6, you just need a body in the house and less of the planned activities. They entertain each other effortlessly now.

You may have to referee a few fights or disagreements but other than that, it's a dream. Now, don't get me wrong, I interact with my little one all the time. We do crafts and go see movies and do all the things, but lately I've been so tired by the time I hit Sunday, I like to instill some chill time. For me, TV and movies have always been my comfortable zone out and relax mechanisms. Now, I've watched all the Disney movies about a thousand times, so I usually retreat to my bedroom and binge on Friends, the Office or Parks and Rec, and generally it's something that Luna can watch without picking up on any inappropriate jokes.

I'm always a room away and I make sure she has all snack needs met, but I like for her to have some independence. Plus, it lets her watch what she wants, like My Little Pony or Daniel Tiger. She tells me all of the details of the shows anyway, so it's like I'm watching them and she gets her own "me time."

When we have play dates, I make these technology free times. You have someone to interact with, you don't need a tablet or TV. Occasionally they indulge in a movie but mostly it's all about play. I like to set up painting time or chalk adventures or games but I definitely encourage them to use their imaginations and come up with things on their own.

As an only child I was fiercely independent and I've tried to raise Luna the same way. She can get along in the company of grown ups as well as she can with kids of all ages. And I'm super proud of her for being that way, because when she needs to take a few minutes away from being social, she can come sit by me and just be her wonderful self for a moment.

I have had circumstances where I've watched her have a rough time with kids who weren't so very nice to her and it's hard to not get overly "Mama Bear" on them. I kind of walk on egg shells when it comes to disciplining other kids when the other parent isn't present. Most of the time the play dates for the kids do include mom play dates for me, but there are times when they bounce between houses in the neighborhood and I'm the one overseeing the interaction. 

I've heard the little ones not really meshing well and sometimes I think it's harder for me than it is for my daughter. She seems so resilient at times and I'm the one getting annoyed that someone isn't being nice to my little one. And I know kids have phases and disagreements and such but I hate when I see one being just generally mean. 

I have stepped in and limited Luna's contact with the offenders from time to time, especially when I see them leaving her in a haze of negativity. But, mostly I let her navigate her friendships and play dates on her own. Because these are the times for her to figure things out more and more on her own, and with less and less of my help. This is the sad truth of growing up.

Most often, play dates make everything better. They give Luna the interaction and energy burn she needs, and gives me time to be productive or catch up with other moms and socialize myself. I tend to be a recluse at times and just want to be lazy and hole up at home. Play dates make me get us out there more! It's a win win!

I'm interested to see how these things evolve. I'm interested to see how things go when sleepovers, drop off parties and events happen. I'm always so attached to being around her and unless she's with my husband or a babysitter, I am the one that is there the most. Letting her be more independent is a test on me as well. We'll see if I make the grade in about another 20 years when she finds her first therapist. For now, play on little one. I have a laundry list of, well laundry and such to do!

Kids Are Honest, Brutally, Rudely Honest

On our drive to church last week my daughter just blurts out, "Grandma's getting old mom. You're getting pretty old too." Thank you dear, daughter, thank you for that honest and astute observation.

Last week when my daughter was doing her horseback riding lessons, on a pregnant horse no less, she was talking about the horse having a big belly and her daddy having a big belly but daddy can't have a baby so his belly shouldn't be that big. Kids say the darnedest things!

When I was a nanny and in that awesome phase where you just turn 21 and begin drinking all the sugary, fattening things and dine out every meal and calories are just a concept, I became thicker, and much faster than in my pre-drinking age days. One afternoon one of the two year old girls I watched pushed on my stomach and said, "Is that your belly Ali? Is it FAT?" Her mother was a former model and her father was a neurosurgeon. I laughed and said, "Yes, but I'm working on it." Her father heard the exchange and said to her, "That is rude! You apologize to Ali!" I reassured him it was fine. She was two, after all.

The worst part is, she was completely right. Kids are usually right when it comes to these inconvenient observations. My daughter is a chatterbox from the moment she wakes up until she falls asleep but when she sneaks in that random honesty, it is brutal, hilarious and most often, heartwarming.

I have tried to raise her to not use silly, inane and mispronounced words and to have a very strong vocabulary. Although I will admit I love when she calls Nutella, "Nella." Her vocabulary bites me in the ass on a regular basis. My daughter is the one in the supermarket telling me how big her poop was. "It was enormous mom, HUGE!" She'll talk to me about how we should only pick our noses at home or in the car, not when we're at the store. She'll tell me how stinky daddy's farts are and that her vagina was really itchy today, all in public. I'm at least proud she is using descriptive, complete sentences.

I try not to act as though she can't say things out loud or be heard but say, "That's more talk for just you and I, maybe not the whole bread aisle at Publix." With her commentary comes wonderful conversations about random things, although sometimes can get a little dark.

She's about to be 6 so that death fixation phase is real and she told me recently I would definitely die before her, which was sad because she would miss me a lot. So with the dark truth came the heartwarming part. 

My favorite to date though, was her talking about who would die first, Brodie, her 8 year old pug, or her Grandpa. That one is really a coin toss because both could easily make it another 10+ years but it's all completely health dependent, which is a sad, harsh truth.

I try to deter her from using "unkind" words. We don't say "fat" about other people but maybe "I made a big fat bubble with my bubble wand," or "I had a big, fat sandwich today." I don't let her say "Oh my god," but instead, "Oh my gosh," or 'What the heck or hell," we quote Liz Lemon with "What the what?!?" And we don't say "Stupid;" that one isn't allowed at all.

I have these ridiculous mom moments where I laugh and get a little bit momma bear when it comes to altercations at school. Luna had been in Kindergarten about a month and got in trouble because she "Called a friend a name." I asked her to tell me what happened and she explained that one little boy called her a "Poopy face," and she said "Well, you're an idiot." As much as I had to be the mother who detests name calling, I mean, she was right. Calling someone a poopy face is indeed idiotic and can we give no points for a great retort and wonderful vocabulary?

This is why my mothering can be so...questionable but also kind of awesome. But this is also where their honesty is just amazing. Sometimes I wish we never learned to have those filters and blocks of "appropriateness" and we just were brutally honest because what I love is it's rare to see kids this age actually speak these words maliciously. They just observe and report. So it's kind of endearing. It's when we use the words in mean ways that we get into trouble. 

A few years ago I had said something as a joke with Luna in earshot when she was like 4, because a little boy had pushed her and I was talking to her about using her words to express herself, not using her hands and I said under my breath, "You can hurt a person way worse with your words anyway; lasting damage." My husband looked at me horrified, and barked, "Don't say that!"

There was truth to it though. Kids get hurt by the name calling and being told they aren't friends with so and so anymore. But they bounce back from cuts and bruises. That brutal honesty bounces off most little friends and from kids to other adults too. If only we could keep varying degrees of that honesty and amplify our kindness to a good medium.

In an exchange with one of my friends recently they were complaining about gaining weight. In no way was I going to be like "Yeah you're so much fatter," but I didn't want to discount what they were saying to me with like "Oh you look fine who cares, it's the holidays," so I responded with honesty and kindness. I said, "Look you've mentioned this before and I have your back no matter what and support you going to the gym and getting into a routine. I can even go with you, but I do think you still look awesome, even if you want to improve upon yourself." It seemed to have a calming effect with their worries but also give them a positive affirmation. This is something I feel like kids do so much more naturally.

When Luna says, "Daddy makes grilled cheese way better and you make pasta so crunchy," she often then says, "But I like your quesadilla better and daddy doesn't make good eggs." 
I've worked harder on finding this medium within myself but kids just seem to have a knack! Having a filter does come in handy, though, especially with my own parents, and my boss, which is something children don't even have a little bit. It's all about balance.


I intend to keep this momentum in balance and mindfulness this year, especially. Although, for now, I intend to enjoy the young, brutal honesty because when she's 16 and telling me I'm a horrible mom, I can revisit these moments and miss her stating I'm getting old. Those are more palatable truths and we all need those!

The Morning Rush...10 Minutes Late or Bust!

The movie Bad Moms is worth a watch at some point, if it's not already in your favorites list, for many reasons in fact, but it opens with a line that goes something like "I had kids and I've been late every day ever since." This is factual. 

I used to be chronically early to everything. I was that person who, if you're not early you're not on time because just arriving on time is too close to too late! And then when you have a child, it takes longer to do anything and everything. Ever. Not to mention you're never the creator of your own schedule, that baby/toddler/kid is.

Now, I can be mostly on time for work (I'm usually in the parking garage by 8...in the office by 8:05) and if I need to be anywhere without my husband or child, I am usually about 10 minutes late unless it's an appointment, like for a doctor or dentist, you know anything PAID for. Generally, however, I am late. 

It's not a laziness thing, well not always, and it's not a procrastination thing, well not always. I like to think it's just another badge on motherhood sash. If any of you moms out there are always on time, please teach me your ways!

Every morning I think I give myself the perfect amount of time to get ready and then I get distracted or forget that I already forgot something or everything and it just snowballs. When my daughter blissfully sleeps through my getting-ready-for-work time, I'm fine, but when she wants to come talk to me when I'm trying to sip my coffee or demands breakfast early or wants help picking out clothes or, "I can't reach this," or "Mom, mom, mom, mom!," that's when it all goes awry. And fast.

Things are much better now than when she was really little, but I can never seem to give us enough time for the "getting from the house into the car," routine. They can NEVER find their shoes or they need to bring a toy or they want a snack or they need 500 other things. You ask them to pee 6 times and you'll still end up stopping more often than not. Then getting into the car seat is ridiculous; it always takes much longer than it rightfully should. 

My husband somehow manages to never get in the car at the same time as we do; we always get in the car and wait for him because I usually drive. Then my daughter starts whining about, "Why is daddy taking so long! He's taking forever! When are we leaving?" It's a fun game.

With no one in my way, I CAN be on time but as a mom, I'm not so sure "No one in your way" actually exists. It might be like Narnia, a place only accessible through some kind of secret and magic entrance.

I honestly barely put much effort into my appearance anymore. I once left the house with only one eye having mascara on it and with jelly on the side of my shirt from a morning hug. I ALMOST left the house, more than once, with different flip flops, and no it wasn't a trend setting type thing. I don't wear expensive make-up nor do I have some crazy routine for skin care or maintenance. My goal is to look "somewhat put together." So "getting ready," is rarely a long process, but the many interruptions elongate everything.

Children always have something they need to tell you, but it doesn't seem to be completely necessary to tell you this thing until you're already doing all the other things. Kids timing is impeccable. But I will take ownership, I'm often late because I also try to do TOO MUCH in not enough time.

For most people this results in less than awesome results, but for me, it somehow makes me work harder in some self-competition. Oh did you not realize from all aforementioned Friends references that I'm mostly Monica? Yes. And I love cleaning and arranging as a way to physically display my ability to control variables in my chaotic world.

These are all my contributing lateness factors that I suspect most of us have in common and again, anyone who is on time, please teach me how to be an adult in this capacity. 

Maybe I'll be more timely one day, but much like being tired, I think being late is just who I am now. It's all intricately connected into my entire world of mothering. We all have our strengths, being timely is not mine. I can make a mean salad though, but if I invite you for dinner, it won't be ready exactly on time so maybe have a snack first...

4th Grade 4-Eyed Dreams Can Come True

I'm getting more and more insight into what a little girl's world really is through my daughter, but I have a few memories of my own. I don't remember being too into clothes. I was definitely an extremely late bloomer and I just loved to wear matching things. In fact, mis-match day at school was always a challenge for me.

My mom dressed me in Laura Ashley, Osh Kosh and as many brand names as possible but I don't remember much beyond fluffy dresses and Easter hats. I didn't get manicures or have lots of accessories. One thing I really wanted when I was in 4th grade though, was glasses.

Both of my parents had glasses. One of them was near-sighted, one of them was far-sighted, and I was like "Okay, so when do I get my glasses?" I'd always tested fine for vision but when I complained of frequent headaches they thought maybe it was time.

So off to the eye doctor we go and I have perfect vision. I was super bummed. I felt really ordinary with the exception of the bright red hair. There was another redhead in my class too and she had glasses. My best friend had glasses. I was so lame without them, right? Oh and the headaches were from my mom letting me drink iced tea every morning...not the best choice. 

So I went on to grow for years and years with no glasses and normal vision. I've never really had any problems so I just went on to function with regular eye balls and exist in the glasses-less sector of society.

It's taken a long time for the Chriss fam to get it together, but we now have normal luxuries like insurance and dental and vision coverage. My husband has glasses and he's used all of the things around it, but I realized I had never used my benefits. Now that I have a job where I'm able to have doctor's appointments and run of the mill life happenings without losing hours or suffering in some other way, I decided to adult up and get my eye exam.

So the dilation thing is maddening. Everything was so blurry and disorienting. The eye puff thing had me exactly like Rachel on Friends, you know which one I'm talking about. And then I found out I needed a light prescription. I was ridiculously excited. 

The Eye doctor said one time a girl desperately wanted glasses and she had to say no and she left in tears. She had wished someone would have told her so she could have phrased it differently for the little one, but she was happy I wasn't upset about them.

So then I went frame shopping. The next day because being all blurry I was not trying to shop for something to live on my face for the rest of my days. My budget was small because I'm "thrifty" (not cheap lol). So I found some frames I really really loved and now just had to be patient for two weeks. No problem.

When my glasses came I ran over there. Finally! I put them on. New year, new me! Yeah! I loved them but oh my did they mess with my depth perception...badly. The sidewalk looked like it was up to my stomach. It was so weird.

My husband assured me there was an adjustment period. Then the first weekend they moved around on my face a lot. I couldn't tell if I was being high maintenance or if they needed an adjustment. My husband said while glasses move, they shouldn't quite that much. I still wore them because this was my 4th grade dream, coming true and right before my 34th birthday! 

So, I finally went to get the adjustment and they are worlds better. When my daughter first saw them somehow she was taken aback like, "Do you have to wear those to bed?" Even though my husband has worn glasses, oh, always. Mostly I got the response "cute," or worse...the people I wanted to notice didn't and the people I would have never expected to notice now wanted to talk about my new accessory.

I'm still getting used to them over-all. This week they are making me sleepy. But there is this huge part of me that feels kind of awesome that my 4th grade dream, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, actually has come true. I think we all have these kid moments of wanting things to make us stand out but also fit in and as we get older we care less and less, but it's kind of fun to know now, not only am I able to see better, but I kind of knocked a weird kid goal off of my list.

My daughter has cool goals like going to Paris and getting a Golden Retriever puppy, which I fully support. She loves to mis-match clothes and hates to match actually. I refer to her as a tiny tourist as you'll often see her in prints and prints or stripes and polka dots. She just found jewelry and is hesitant to fit into the lost tooth trend out of fear it will hurt. While she's fiercely independent she has conformed into the Shopkins obsession, My Little Ponies, the world of Legos and Roblox. I love watching her phases though.

When she has goals like glasses and braces though, I fully intend to let her know that she might have to wait until she's grown, but usually these things are totally achievable. I plan on explaining this while on a plane full of Golden Retrievers on our way to Paris of course. 

Tired Is Just Part of Who I Am Now...#Mombie

Motherhood is exhausting, no way around it but there are many awesome memes about tired just being part of who we are in parenthood. There is no such thing as enough rest for a parent and we soldier on, regardless.

A couple years ago after our family's car accident I was headed to my first day back at work, bruised and battered, trying to pick up the pieces and someone said, "You look tired." I snapped back, "Yeah well being up twice a night giving my child with 2 casts on her legs her pain medicine and changing diapers again because she can't use the toilet is kind of exhausting so I'm always tired now." I believe an apology was issued for the remark but I didn't feel bad; I was tired after all.

I am always tired and I think that is just a part of my life now. Before becoming a mother, "tired" was always associated with nights out, hangovers and fun with friends or maybe a concert or double shift. Now it's because of sick kids, different sleeping patterns, snoring husbands or on the worst nights, sick pets. And mothers are always the caretakers. 

I have been legitimately ill twice in the past 6 years and when Luna was about 8 months old and I got the flu, my best friend had to bring me reserves and when my husband was home, the most rest I got was in between the fact that he would physically just hand me my daughter to pop on the boob. This past year I was taken down for 3 full days and missed 2 days of work due to some kind of plague. My husband had to take my daughter to school, my mom had to pick her up and feed and bathe her. I physically put her in bed but would barely snuggle her because I felt like death and didn't want her to get whatever I had.

When I re-emerged slightly for the better 72 hours later, it looked like I lived in a frat house covered in stickers and traces of toddler. My husband's clothes were strewn on couches. There were McDonald's boxes and wrappers on my piano and tables, there were cups left out and the dishwasher and sink were full. The laundry hadn't been touched, just piled onto. "How long was I in there?," I thought. 

In general, I run on coffee and work-outs. I no longer work out to look cute or fit into things. I have no one left to impress as an old mom and I never intend to "fit in." I work out for survival. It's a tool to cut down on my anxiety and depression, but mostly it keeps me sleeping well and energized for a bulk of the day. But generally speaking, I am just tired.

My dad always says, "You sound tired" or maybe "run down." I usually make fun of him by telling him he sounds "old." My energy is always expended maintaining our daily routines and while I like volunteering for church and being with friends and socially living among the general population, I also love any down time I can snag because it's so few and far between. I'm learning to say "no" from time to time. 

I literally ask for a nap for Christmas, my birthday, and mother's day and book these things up to a year in advance. I say sleep is my favorite hobby and my husband always retorts, "It's not really a hobby." Well, it is for me. 

I'm okay with looking and being tired because I'm lucky enough to be living life and watching my daughter grow. I was so bad at the, "You should sleep when the baby is sleeping" stuff because I just wanted to eat or pee in peace. Or clean without her attached to me. Now I am right behind her for bed time because getting up before her is oh so important for many reasons. Coffee tastes so much better...in silence.

I think in infancy we know what we are signing on for but my daughter is about to be 6 and she still visits us at least once a night. My cousin has a one year old and text me one day a few months ago asking "Luna sleeps through the night now, right?" I think I literally text back, "Hahahahahahaha." My daughter feels the need to tell me when she's up to pee, if she heard anything ever in her life at night, and if she had a bad dream, and according to her, she "always," has bad dreams.

I've never met a well rested parent. And this makes me so happy because misery and exhaustion love company! And Will Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff were on point because "Parents just don't understand." I will never understand where or how they get their energy but they should really learn to share.

Regardless, I'm okay with being a #Mombie. I do as much as I can and am also learning when to say..."when." Sometimes I need that extra half an hour of sleep. Sometimes I need to do nothing on Sunday morning but re-watch Parks and Rec and drink endless coffee. Sometimes I need to be exhausted and power through but go to bed early. Tired is my state of being much like Mom will forever be my title. "Rest" assured that I would stay tired forever to never miss the adventure of motherhood though, I will tell you that. And for those of you greedy sleepers out there...you drink that in for me please. No, seriously, take a nap for me.