I am so proud

Let's forget for a minute that your mom is a loon. We won't talk about how she spent her hard earned cash to have Becca come over so that she could scrub down the bathrooms and use bleach in peace. Because only serial killers and other mommies of multiple kids would enjoy that kind of thing. Because that's what I did this morning and you can bet I told at least three other mothers who were envious.

No, we're going to talk about you guys. And your new game that is always set off by the fact that Grace suffers the indignity of STILL having to use a booster seat at the ripe old age of four almost five. "When I'm old enough- When I'm as big as you" is our new game. First, Grace buckles herself into her car seat. Then she starts mentioning her car seat. Then, she starts a sentence with "when I'm big enough" or "When I'm as big as you".

The first one is almost always, "...I won't have to use a booster chair." which is quickly followed by one of Eleanor's quips and then the volleys begin between Eleanor, Grace and a word or two from Jordan. They include being able to drive, borrowing my shoes, having your own purse, being able to fly (not in an airplane), being able to fly an airplane, going to the moon and a whole assortment of other ideas. But this morning Grace blurted out, "When I get as big as you, I'll be able to get the butter all by myself!"

Paula Deen be praised.

Mom's day

Mother's Day is coming up. In two weeks, there will be joyous celebrations and shouts of "I love you, Mom!" on one Sunday in May. Mother's everywhere will be given breakfast in bed, flowers, cards and dragged out to brunch in crowded restaurants everywhere by adoring families in order to show their love and appreciation.

And then the following Monday everything goes back to normal.

I've got two things to say about Mother's Day. The first being that I'm a freak. Really- Mother's Day is no big deal to me. Your father shows me every week, almost every day, how much he appreciates my efforts here at home. Either he's putting on a really good show or he knows that a day with the three of you can be...chaotic. Joyful, fun and adventurous, but also frustrating, confusing, annoying and HARD. And because of his example, you girls routinely make me feel as though my work is worthwhile.

Bestides, I get breakfast in bed almost every Saturday when I hide out upstairs and you make pancakes with your dad.

The second thing I want to say is that motherhood should not be an accident. Motherhood is a CHOICE that you can make in your life, not just so you won't be left out on Mother's day and have to face all those annoying comments and questions every year. This is not saying that you three were not an incredible surprise to us, your dad and I never knew we could be this blessed. But from the moment we found out about you, we wanted to have you in our lives.

We have friends, both married and single, who have chosen not to have kids. These people are dedicated family people, adventurous, ambitious, talented and brilliant. And they know that they do not wish to be (or feel they would not be good at being) full time parents. I can respect that. While I could never imagine my life without you, I respect that they took the time to think about what they wanted rather than blindly doing what society demanded was the next step to marriage and biology.

They are generous with you three every time they see you. To a person, they smile and talk to you like small people; NOT babies. They read to you, they listen to you, they are patient with you. They would be great parents, but instead stand firmly in the position of aunts, uncles, godparents and friends.

You will be so lucky to have them in your life.

What I'm trying to say (and saying badly) is that if you decide to have kids, love them and raise them to the best of your abilities. If you can't have kids and want them, blood is not an issue. You love that kid, they are YOURS. Which makes them my grandkids. If you can't or decide not to have kids, it doesn't make you any less of a woman. Not one bit.

To be clear- I want grandkids. I want to spoil them rotten and see you grow your family in a way that will bring you joy. But if your choice takes you down a different path, I'M OKAY WITH THAT. Just make sure I get to make quilts for SOMEBODY. I can say that. I'm your mother.

S. N. A. C. K. S.

Grace has snack this week at school and the letter of the week is "V". Am I just a crazy person to think that vegetables would be a good snack? I sent a whole bottle of Ranch dressing for pity's sake.

Oh well, we can always have them for dinner.

The other two days are a bit easier with Vanilla wafers and Viking cupcakes. For some reason the thought of inverting savory Bugles into any kind of iced cupcake seems like the perfect food for a bunch of four year olds who are not going to care about the letter thing anyway. (Update: three days later... The cupcakes were a HUGE hit! Carrot cake cupcakes with white icing were very well received but the nacho cheese bugles were probably JUST for decoration.)

Speaking of which, your dad and I had his parents here this last weekend. In order to not cause a riot, we spelled out a few words. Like "gin" and "beer" and....oh, that's right. Your grandparents can understand those....

But we did spell out a few others like "ice cream sandwiches" and "snacks". Your father and I were a bit shocked and more than a bit proud when Grace said, "I know what that spells! S, n, a, c, k, s spells snacks."

We're in trouble.

Getting old

I feel as though I've forgotten something. Something important. Taxes are done, there are three kids here safe and fed and Emily is snoring. So what have I forgotten?

Grace's birthday is coming up next month. We're still up in the air about if we're having it as a joint party or just having a small outing with Grace and a friend or two. In typical Mommy fashion, I've already started working on the favors for the party if it's joint with Georgia. If it doesn't work out, we can always just give the small "trinket keeper" bags that I'm making to the class on the week we bring in cupcakes for Grace's real birthday on the 25th.

I can rationalize anything.

Granne and Grandbob are going to a wedding in New Orleans next weekend so we are doing a cultural exchange with Louisiana and your father's parents are coming for a visit. We're in negotiations as to where they would like to sleep. The grandparents room will be available, but I think they might like the privacy of being downstairs. Not sure how your grandfather will deal with a full sized bed and a blow to the crotch in the morning when you guys jump on the bed. It's taken my dad a full two years to learn to tuck and roll whenever he hears the pitter patter of your little feet.

This is going to be short- I've got to try and find the shoes you have lost. How did we lose a brand new pair of Keens already? It's only April! I've looked everywhere and they have disappeared. Not in the van, the garage, the closet.... none of the usual place. We're going back to school this morning and Jordan and I are heading out for an action packed morning at the commissary. Yes, the new vinyl springy green tablecloth and grocery shopping. I party that hard.

Who says romance is dead?

Someone needs to tell your father that offering to show me what he just pulled up out of the shower drain is not a prelude to intimacy. That making comments such as "Oh holy crap, you should smell this!" is also not going to entice me to come into the bathroom to investigate.

And why is it that when I whine about this to my girlfriends, all I get in return is , "He cleaned out the shower drain? That's awesome! Why on earth are you complaining?"

I can't win. But I did go to bed with a smile on my face.

We can do better

We're on spring break this week. So this is a non-stop whirlwind of Mommy/daughter joy, bliss and togetherness. All the time. From last Thursday afternoon until next Tuesday. That's eleven full days of us. Together. Every meal, every diaper, every craft project, every play date, every errand.

Joy.

Bliss.

So it may come as no small surprise to you when you read this later on in life that we had a few mishaps yesterday. And I may have made a few calls to Michelle along the day. Maybe one or two more than a few. Maybe so many that she called back at nine last night to ask how many children I still had.

Yesterday was one of those days that makes me want to turn in my Mommy badge. Yesterday was the kind of day that makes other Moms drink. Drink booze. Lots of it. Yesterday was one of those days that reminded me of your Grandbob telling me about his time in the Pentagon, "Hours and hours of sheer boredom punctuated my moments of stark terror".

It started with the half gallon of milk on the floor. That you dropped, decided NOT to pick up and came running out to tell me that you had spilled it on the floor. The puddle on the floor was still growing when I came running into the room and started throwing towels down.

The tone of the day really started rolling when I went to use the toilet on the main floor only to find it covered in poop. On the seat, the side and the floor. LOVELY.

And after lunch, you guys were playing trains and I foolishly left you alone for a few minutes when Grace came running into the office to tell me that Jordan had gone into the pantry and taken out the brown sugar. Apparently the recent good weather motivated her to try and build a sand castle under the train table with the two pounds of brand new brown sugar. I found you running trucks and bulldozers through your dunes.

Twenty minutes later, Jordan was going down for a nap and Grace and Eleanor watched me clip all the sticky strings off the head off the vacuum cleaner. I threw away the garbage, set everything else to the side and took little Ms. Sweet Tooth upstairs to wash her off, change her clothes and put her to bed. I returned to find two small people doing their impressions of Paul Mitchell.

"It's my turn to cut hair!"

This is not something I want to hear. In fact, a big old "WTF?!" came out of my mouth. I'm your mother, not a saint. I will never be a saint. And today, my patience and ineptitude for parenting has been pushed to the limit.

Eleanor had a small trim to the curls on the side of her head, nothing super noticeable. As for Gracie, the slanted chunk over her ears, the one in the back and the two on the other side let me know it was time for a trim.

I have to admit I lost my temper. There was some yelling. Mine and yours. I have no idea why you would want to do this or where you got the idea other than the scissors foolishly left by your mom on the floor. Silly mommy. And I know that there was no blood, no broken bones and no real harm done. I KNOW THAT. But we, together, had not done a great job of keeping busy. I was worried about a few things that needed to be accomplished around the house and was concentrating more on a project I'd worked on the night before than giving you something to do. "Executive Play" is a great way of telling myself that you need to figure out how to entertain yourselves.

Yesterday was not a good day for me letting you guys decide how to play on your own. The pirate's ship in the morning was great. The milk, not so much. The fashion show downstairs was fun until I found the poop. Your two hour tea party with stunts in the top of the fort was incredible until you returned with your ambition to rival Dubai with your indoor sport dune driving. And the hair cuts, why???

This morning, we've had breakfast and I'm watching you guys on the swings and the hammock. Then we're going OUT to run errands and stop by the Ikea where you guys can see Ms. Rosa and spend 30 minutes without me in the kids play area. We're going to be a bit more busy and without a schedule. Because I know we can do better. We will not falter. We will not fail. We will not pick up scissors and cut each other's hair today.

RIGHT?

Questioning my housekeeping skills.

Yesterday was the Easter Egg Hunt for Grace's class. We now how a dozen empty Easter eggs floating around the house that are supposed to be in her bunny bag in the kitchen. This morning, Grace was awake and downstairs bright and early with me in the living room and she asked me if she could have one egg. Since the other girls are still asleep and she was asking so nicely, I didn't see any harm.

A few minutes later she walked up and showed me the funky spider shaped chocolate in one hand and a fist full of M&Ms in the other.

Grace: Look, Mom! Look what was in my egg!

Me: Oooh, I see that spider! Are you going to eat him?

Grace: (crunch, crunch of an M&M) Yes! I'm going to eat him all up!

Me: Okay, but I thought I told you only one egg. (Insert stern look here)

Grace: (crunch, crunch)I did take one egg. (crunch, crunch) The M&Ms were in the couch.

Greaaaaaaat.