Newest Additions

Meet the newest additions to our family. Sadly, they don't have pictures because they are a little elusive.

Their names are NotMe and Idontknow. Maybe they've moved into your house as well. I hear they made their rounds.

NotMe is quite the instigator. He starts fights, leaves messes and never cleans up.

Idontknow is very evasive. She spills things and grinds Play-Doh into the carpet.

I'm not particularly fond of these newest family members, but I have a feeling they'll be here for a long while. I better set 2 more places at the table for them to mess up...

NotMe & Idontknow strike again...

Embarrassing Little Darlings

Why is it that kids choose the most inopportune times to do something completely embarrassing for Mom?

As you're introducing them to their preschool teacher that pointer finger goes mining for gold.
While a little old lady is patting them in the store someone farts exceptionally loud and laughs even louder.
While you're telling your pastor what a great sermon her delivered your little love shouts, "Mommy, your butt is HUGE!"

We've all been there. And guaranteed that your preschool teacher, pastor and even the little old lady in the store have all BTDT (Been There, Done That). Of course, that doesn't make it any less embarrassing for you.

So how do you handle those crazy moments when all you want to do is scream and hide (or at least hide your child away)?
Smile and laugh. Everyone knows kids pick their noses. There's some sort of magnetic connection between finger and nose when kids are between 18 months and let's say...puberty. A simple, "Not here, Johnny," while removing the offending hand should do it. Make sure you keep tissues on you for such moments.
And, everyone farts and burps. It's a fact of life, much like the book "Everyone poops," everyone farts (or toots, as we say in our house). Smile politely and be sure your child says "excuse me" and move on.
And when your child says something humiliating, try to just laugh it off. Maybe you do have a big butt (I know I do!). But getting angry will only serve to make you look bad. Laugh it off and try to get out of dodge.

Kids are kids, and they don't "know" proper etiquette. You have to teach them. In the mean time... laugh with them! It will help cool your anger if nothing else!

Faith

Faith is something I consider to be very important for my family. Not spirituality, not religion... Faith. Pure and simple.

My husband and I are Christians and we do believe that God gave his son Jesus Christ as a sacrifice for us to be with Him in eternity. We want our children to grow up and accept Christ as their savior and life a life according to His will.

But it's not as easy as I thought it would be. My eldest child right now hates to pray and sees Jesus and God as similar to sports mascots. Scary, strange people dressed in costumes. It's hard to explain that they are not costumed people when she can't see Them physically.

I'm not sure exactly how to combat this. We pray, we talk about God and Jesus..but like many things in life this is something the kids will just have to figure out on their own. And we can only pray that in time, they will come to love Christ the way their parents do.

Fake Kids: Real Moms

Or...what not to say to an adoptive mother.

While showing off picture of my children the other day, a person who knew we had one biological child and one adoptive child asked, "Which one is your real child?"

Any adoptive mom knows this line and loathes it. With a passion. Real child? As opposed to a fake one, you mean?
Most adoptive mothers I know would love to answer with something snarky, "No, my children are fake. Don't they make them look so realistic though?"
But the standard answer - and the one I gave - was a calm (but near-boiling), "They're both my real children."
The lady backtracked, "You know what I mean!" She was a nice girl, so I let it drop, but I was angry.

Maybe I do know what she meant, but had my children been with me they could have easily assumed that this lady was implying that they were not really my children. And let me tell you what...regardless of whether or not I birthed my children doesn't matter in the least. What matters is that I MOTHER MY CHILDREN.
I really wanted to retort, "No, I don't know what you mean..." just to see what she would say. But I didn't, I held my tongue.

The questions get worse when you adopt a child from a different race or culture (and even within your own race you hear this one).
"Where are his real parents?"
Um... I'm right here, standing in front of you. Just like my child, I'm very real.
Asking where "real" parents are is silly. I'm the parent, I'm very real. If you want to know where the birth or biological parents are, ask me that. They are not this child's parents any longer, especially where DSS cases are concerned. And forgive me for being vague, but you don't need to know specifics concerning my child's history.

"Where did you get her from?"
Snarky answer: Babies R Us carries a lot of variety these days!
Real Answer: If you mean where did we adopt from, the answer is _______. (I've even gotten this one, since Mac came home at 10 months a lot of people assumed we adopted from Europe. When asked where he's from, I answer, "South Carolina.")
You can ask where we adopted from, but phrase it that way. Don't make it sound like we purchased our child at a store. Children are not pets.

"Did your kids cost a lot?"
Do you ask someone how much their C-section cost or how much fertility treatments cost? NO. It's private and none of your business. Besides, adoptive children don't cost more than biological children, but the paper & leg work involved does cost. If you are truly inquisitive about the cost of adoption, ask, "I hate to pry, but would you mind sharing what the cost of adoption was for you?" Much nicer (still none of your business unless you are considering adoption, but still...nicer). Again, children are not from mega-centers and are not pets.

I think the problem is that people who don't know anything about adoption don't know how to phrase their questions. But just as you wouldn't pry into people's privacy where conceiving a child is concerned (you don't come right out and ask about fertility treatments or sex do you? No.), don't pry about adoption either.
If you are genuinely curious or interested, think before you talk.

And for the record, all adoptive children are very real. My children are very real. They can hear you when you ask rude questions with them around and that can make them think that adoption is a bad or degrading thing when it's not.
I am the real mother of both my children. I kiss their boo-boos, I sing them to sleep, I discipline them when they're naughty. It does not matter which one I birthed and which one I did not. I don't differentiate and neither should you.

Both my children...keeping it real...

Sag

It's inevitable. Regardless of whether you are a biological or adoptive mother, or whether you are a mother at all...

You will sag. The girls head south. It's like retirees that go to Florida for warmer weather, they want to go too. Just sooner than the rest of your body.

"When the gravity pulls the breasts down, those ligaments and the skin can stretch, and so the breast then droops...Another common cause for sagging is when a woman loses weight. When you lose weight, some of that fat disappears from your breasts." ~http://www.007b.com/sagging.php

In doing my research, I found that nothing can prevent sagging. Even wearing a bra, which many women try. Of course, when a bra is on, the girls are where you want them. But as soon as you're free, they are as well to stretch as far as they can.
In fact, some research suggests that excessive bra wearing can cause MORE sagging.

"In all subjects, after 3 months of brassiere constraint, the underbust circumference was smaller but the chest circumference became enlarged, the distance between the right and left nipples became wider, and the breasts tended to hang down.  This change was more marked in obese subjects with pendent breasts.  And when this type of subject wore a 'well-fitted' brassiere for a long time, her breast form became developed, that is, her breasts hung down more." ~Ashizawa K, Sugane A, Gunji T Institute of Human Living Sciences, Otsuma Women's University, Tokyo, Japan: Breast Form Changes Resulting From  A Certain Brassiere Journal of Hum. Ergol.(Tokyo) 1990 Jun; 19(1):53-62.

I don't know what one can do to prevent sagging. Nothing I suppose. But regardless of whether or not your chest is trying to vacation without you, be proud of your body. I'm sure it serves you well!

PS - Yes, I realize I could have gone into an entire tirade about "the girls" and "your man," but we'll save that for another day.

Fingers, Thumbs and Pacis, Oh My!

My daughter is a finger-sucker. When she was born we gave her a pacifier (paci), then at about 2 months old she discovered her thumb and could get herself back to sleep - we didn't argue at all. Then she swapped to sucking the middle two fingers of her left hand.

She's done it ever since. She's doing it right now. It's very sweet, but it's also very annoying.Her fingers are starting to look funky and I fear for her teeth.

We're tried bribes, we've tried paint-on yucky junk, we're tried rationalizing (because you know, rationalizing with a 3-year-old is a great idea). Nothing works, and I'm starting to wish we had kept with the paci so that we could take that away. We can't cut her fingers off.

But for now, she's still sucking her fingers. I guess it's okay for now, I mean - she is only three. And it's one of the very last things left that connects her to the baby she was. She's so grown up otherwise.  *sigh*

Oh, Poop

I have a book entitled Potty Training Sucks that I got when my daughter turned two. I was unprepared for the crap that potty training brought me - Pun certainly intended.

Anyone who has potty trained a child would probably agree that they would rather spend a month as a POW somewhere hostile than teach a child how to pee into a toilet. I say that and my daughter was relatively easy to train.

She was "day" trained by the time she was 2.5 and night trained before she turned three. I don't know how she did that, but it was all her. I can take no credit. She, like me, sets her mind to something and rolls with it.

SB in her Potty-prize Tiara

But now that my son is approaching 2.5, and it's summertime, the topic has been broached. When to train him? He certainly wants to go potty like a big boy, but currently panics when I take his diaper off to do the deed. And the few times I've put him in his amazingly awesome Lightning McQueen undies he's peed in them without a care in the world - leaving me play a rousing game of "Find the Puddle."
And of course with a boy we're left with whether to train him standing or sitting. I have him sit right now, but all the 3 year old boys at church stand - which amazes me. I told my husband that he needs to take a week off work and train him in the manly way. 

Potty training is not fun in the least. If you've found a way to make it fun, please clue me in - I want to know your secret.

18 months

18 months ago we brought our son home through the miracle of adoption. He was 10 months old and had no personality and had never had solid food. 

Over the last 18 months we've celebrated his first and second Christmas, first and second birthday, first steps and words, numerous doctors appointments, food allergies and watched his little personality come to life. He's a handful and a half and drives me nuts half the time, but I wouldn't trade him for the world. 

I love you, Mac.  

Love, Momma

December 2008                      

June 2010

Putting on Your Game Face

Have you ever paid attention to moms when they're shopping? I was at Wal-Mart today doing my grocery shopping and getting a few other things and I started to notice the looks on some of co-shoppers faces.

Most of the women shopping around me wore faces that were downright depressing. They looked sad, downtrodden - whether they had children in their midst or not. I understand that deciding between bananas and pears isn't that exciting, but man, it was like death.

Other moms sported the angry look. Truly POed. What were they angry at? Rising prices? Lack of selection? Or maybe the fact that their 4-year-old was screaming because the baby had a fist full of their hair.

Still others had a completely blank expression. Not happy, not sad or angry. Not even thoughtful as they debated over which brand of yogurt to get. I followed one mom wondering, "What is she thinking?"

The smallest portion looked happy. They were either without kids (like myself) or their child was being a complete angel for once and they were gloating (it's okay, it's well deserved!). Or maybe they had just snagged a great deal on Double Stuf Oreos.

People watching is so much fun - but please, Moms of the World, smile once and a while. It will keep you from having frown lines and smiling is proven to help release endorphins which help you feel better anyway!

Happy Shopping!

Dad's Scorecard

It's Father's Day here in the good ole U S of A so I thought Dads deserved a post all their own.

My children's father is a wonderful father. Thankfully he's also the World's Best Husband. It's a proven fact, don't try to argue with me about that. He wins. 

But I thought it would be fun to give dads their own scorecard. I hope your father or your children's father scores high!

He's a dad: +10 

Add +1 for every child you have over the first one (so 1 child=10, 2 kids=11, 3 kids=12, etc)

He takes the kids to school, soccer, ballet, etc +3

He reads them a bedtime story +2

He gives baths +2

He runs away at bath time -2

He acts as your child's personal pony +3

He often does without so your child can have something +3

He takes the last ____ and doesn't share -4

He takes the last ___, shares and gives your child the bigger portion +5

He's okay with wearing matchy clothes on family picture day +2

He lets you go out for Mommy time more than he goes for Daddy time +7

He never lets you go out for Mommy time -10

He wears the tie the kids got him even though he hates ties and has no reason to wear them +3

He laughs at the gifts your children give him -15

He always kisses you and shows your children how to be a good husband and father +20

There's a possible 60+ points here. If your husband scored a 60 or above (above would be fore multiple children), you have a wonderful man! He deserves the best!

If your hubby scored 45-59 points - your BabyDaddy is doing a good job. As long as he's not laughing at your children or being mean, you got a good thing going.

If the score was 30-45 point - He needs some work and deserves that ugly tie. But don't give up hope. If he loves you, he's a keeper.

If your husband scored below 30 points. Well, I'm sorry, I sure hope nobody's husband scores below 30 points. Let's just leave it at that.

If you are reading this and you are a single mother... you are my hero for being both mom and dad on a daily basis. I hope you get the recognition you deserve. 

Happy Father's Day!

Toddlers vs. Frat Parties

Ever notice how having kids is a lot like being at a college frat party? No? Let's compare:

1. Someone's always naked.
2. There's always a line for the bathroom.
3. Clothes are scattered all over the floor and you don't know who's underpants those are...
4. Someone is always angry and ready to throw punches.

5. Someone's always yelling for another drink.
6. There's one person who's just looking for a warm body to cuddle with.
7. Someone winds up covered in mud and dirt.
8. They sing the same songs over and over. It's always off key and they only know the chorus.
9. There's a funky smell over in the corner and you don't know why...
10. Jokes are always funny, even when you have no clue what the joke-teller just said.
11. There are new stains on the couch and you don't even bother to ask what it is. You don't want to know.
12. You find someone passed out in the oddest place, in the strangest position...

13. One kid always winds up well inked.
14. Screaming at the top of one's lungs is a regular occurrence.
15. Somewhere, someone has their hand down their pants. 

See? Who said being a mom wasn't a huge party? Feel free to add your own in our comments section!

Cry, Cry Baby

The other day my house will filled with screaming, kicking, hitting and crying. A tantrum was in full swing and it was not pretty.

The kids weren't terribly happy either.

But I was just copying them. I thought babies cried a lot, but I can assure you that my 2-year-old and my 3-year-old turn on the water works that cause Biblical-proportion floods and I don't have as clue as to what to do about it.

Do I let them cry? Do I make them stop? Do I follow the theory of "if you can't beat them, join them" and pitch my own fit (because I sure so want to sometimes)?

Some "experts" (who are nameless because they know it's just false hope) say to tell your preschooler that you understand their frustration and that saying this will cause the child to pause and think, "Gee, Mom, you mean you understand that I'm crying because I want to eat the play-doh instead of playing with it? Wow, I feel much better now."
Sure. If you've never given this approach a try, let me tell you how it goes.

Mom: Sweetie, I understand that you're frustrated and angry.
Kid: WAAAA!!!!!!!
Mom: Sweetie, sweetie, calm down. I want you to hear me...
Kid: WAAAA!!!!!!
Mom: Sweetheart, please--
Kid: WAAAA!!!!!!
Mom: Look, just stop for a second so I can tell you this!
Kid: WAAAA!!!!!!
Mom: Oh forget it...just tell me when you're done crying.

See, that's how that goes. Kid doesn't hear a word, Mom is wasting her breath.

My latest tactic with the 3-year-old is that if she is going to cry unnecessarily (over something silly) she must go to her room because I don't want to hear it. The 2-year-old isn't quite able to comprehend this and is an escape artist anyway, so I just try to talk him down.

If one of my children has a necessary reason to cry, I'm there. Arms outstretched, my own tears ready to join them - I'm there. I hate it when my children have a reason to cry. As much as I can't stand the tantrum crying, I never want them to have a reason for tears.

I wonder if there will ever be a time in a child's life that's tear free. Because by the time they outgrow the tantrums, they'll be school bullies, then broken hearts, then broken dreams. I know I still go to my mom crying on occasion.

I guess it's just a mother's job to wipe away the tears, regardless of the reason, whether her child is 3 or 30. I love my job.

The Gray Hair Post

Hello. My name is Allison and I have Gray Hair.

I see you recoil in shock and disbelief. I hear you gasp in horror.

But to be honest, I got my first gray hair when I was 16 years old. Since then it's been a game of cat and mouse. The dark auburn cat is trying to chase away that pesky gray mouse.

I'm only 29 years old, I'm not old enough to be *this* gray. But from the moment Sarah Bradley was born the grays increased. Then when Mac came home those nasty buggars increased exponentially. Ive decided it's a medical issue I've named "Stressed Induced Gray."

Since this blog is for moms by a mom, I thought it would only be right to share this gray-ness with you. So, for the first and hopefully only time, here is a picture of my growing-out gray - soon to be covered with Miss Clairol's "Auburnin' Hot" Level 3 Permanent hair color.

So...here it goes. My gray hair. (I'm hiding my hair in shame over here, I can't believe I'm sharing this!)

I mean, you can see some huge grays there. And in the bottom half of hair in this shot you can see how much there is mixed in with the brown. I mean, my hair used to be all dark brown. It's so light up there it looks like it's thinning, which I promise it's not - you just can't see it.

Last night I had a hot date with Miss Clairol to wash those grays away. We spent some good time together, Miss Clairol and I. She took good care of me.

See? Same shot, red hair! Usually my hair, regardless of box color, turns out black. So this turning out actual RED was a shock. But those pesky grays are covered and hidden for the next month.

I think for women, at least women under a certain age, admitting that there are grays in there is hard to do. It's embarrassing. Maybe back in Biblical days women over 30 had gray hair and they were seen as attractive matriarchs of the community. Gray = authority in a way. But not here. Not now. It's like you must maintain the hair color of your youth (or someone's youth, at least) and then when you reach a magical matronly age THEN you're allowed to go gray.

My husband and I have discussed it. When I hit 35 or 40, or maybe when I need to be seen as "cool" by the kids and their friends, I'm totally going to rock the gray streak in my hair. And I will rock it! You just wait. But for now, I'll keep my dates with Miss Clairol.

Until next month, Gray Hairs... until next month...

The Girl Who Had No Air

Air conditioning, that is... 

In my family, once you hit a certain age and have children, perspiring becomes your #1 talent. It's disgusting. I'm sure all the women in my family are appreciating me saying this - but it's the truth and it's not exactly one we are able to hide. 

Last week our air conditioner froze over and it's just not working. We've done everything we know to do and so we called the air conditioning gurus. I politely and nicely explained the problem and the fact that I had two children sweating their shirts off and please help. I'm glad they're not the fire department, because help still has not come.

So it's getting as high as 83 degrees in my house, which in Allison-land means "so hot you can practically fry an egg." I mean, it's hot. Really hot. 

I'm doing my best to keep the kids out of the sweltering heat - today we played at two different toy stores for hours. But now that it's nap time, we're back in the hot house. I feel like a tomato getting over ripe and the air conditioning people are of no help whatsoever.

I'm going to take up ice sculpting. 

I wish I could cool down...

It's the Song that Doesn't End...

Yes it goes on and on my friends...

Do your children insist on hearing the same songs and reading the same books over and over and over and over and... well, you get where I'm going there.

My children are like this. Sarah Bradley must read her latest Fancy Nancy book ad nauseam until a new one appears. She has seven Fancy Nancy books. We've read the same one before nap and bed for almost a month now. Maybe longer. Nothing else - not even her precious Care Bears book - can tear her away.

My son, Mac, is this way with songs. Thankfully he has a little variety - he likes Twinkle Twinkle anything. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Twinkle, Twinkle Lightning McQueen, Twinkle, Twinkle Lowrider (and yes, he wants me to sing about lowriders...he's 100% boy). But it's over and over until I want to scream, "Lightning McQueen does not twinkle - his headlights are stickers!"

I'm not sure how I can get the kids over this repetitious rut. I'm not sure that's a possibility given their ages - preschoolers use repetition as an educational tool. When they repeat things they're memorizing them.

But memorizing them means that when I mess up or vary from the known formula of verse means that I'm caught and corrected amid an air of giggles. Which is usually fun, but not always.

So for now, it's the Song That Doesn't End (or Book, or whatever it is that we do methodologically).
Any ideas for how to deviate from the plan?

Enjoying the Simple Things

I've been learning how to enjoy the simple things in life. Maybe this is something that everyone else enjoys and I've just been too complicated to appreciate it, but I'm starting to appreciate it now.

If you haven't noticed, we're in a slight economic slump. We're definitely feeling the pinch which means we're doing less in the way of big and more in the way of small. Out with the movies and in with the DVD player and some popcorn. Out with the zoo and in with exploring the bugs and plants around town. Out with expensive dance lessons and in with having a friend teach some girls for next to nothing.

But the small stuff has been so much more satisfying than the big stuff. Watching my children explore and discover ladybugs versus caged tigers has been wonderful. Swimming in the lake and watching ducks swim a few feet away has been much more exciting than swimming in a crowded pool (not that we don't mind the pool, of course).

Things like eating ice cream in the back yard and having it dribble down my chin and turning on the hose to cool us off has been such a joy in my life. Little conversations about the dreams my daughter has are priceless. Singing Jesus Loves Me with my son is so precious. Simple pleasures with my family are worth so much more than the big vacations and big toys and fancy things.

Do I wish we had a big pool? Of course, it's 100 degrees outside. But maybe not having a pool is a blessing in disguise because the memory of the kids turning the hose on me is sure to outlast a memory of me trying to keep their heads above water in a big pool.
And maybe going to the zoo and museums all the time would be nice and educational...but now I get to teach them about bugs and flowers and gardens. We get to study robots together and pretend and play. That education is worth much more than anything a museum will teach.

The little thing - why don't you give them a try, too. I think you'll appreciate them in a whole new way.

The Ultimate in Book Reading

I want an iPad. Or a Kindle. Or even the Sony Reader.

I used to be an avid reader, BC (before children). I still try to read anything I can get my hands on that's not written in verse or has furry creatures on the front. It's not as often as it used to be.

It would be so nice to have one of these pieces of technology to tuck into my bag and take anywhere. Not that I can't take an actual book with me, I can. But this would mean dozens of books at my fingertips at all times. I could even put the Bible on there and take that with me and I bet I could switch translations back and forth to suit whatever I happen to be doing.

I would even be able to blog from an iPad...

See how functional one would be? I'm now accepting donations. Send ASAP.

Adoption Option

Before my husband and I were married we had The Kid Talk. All serious couples have this discussion.

Will we have kids?
How many?
How long will we wait before having the first?
And how long to wait between children?

Often a couple does not discuss struggles in trying to get pregnant or whether or not they would adopt if they did have struggles (or regardless of struggles).

One of my very best friends was adopted and I can recall being young and wondering why people kept having children when so many were out there in need of a home. Before Marshall and I ever talked marriage I told him I would never consider it unless he agreed to adopt at least one child regardless of biological children. He agreed.

When we did have fertility struggles despite our best efforts, we applied to adopt. Long story short - it was then that God decided I should get pregnant.
Six month after our daughter was born we applied to adopt through DSS. It took almost a year and a half, but we got approved and brought home our son via foster-to-adopt.

If we hadn't had that talk before getting married - would adoption have been a last resort? If we hadn't had fertility struggles, would we have tried to adopt at all? I can tell you right now that I can't imagine life without my son. He's my child, regardless of who gave birth to him. Adoption brought him to us and if we hadn't been willing to follow that path we wouldn't have him and our daughter wouldn't have her brother.

I know adoption isn't for everyone, but if you've ever considered it - pray about it and see where God is leading you. You might find out you're missing a part of your family that only adoption can fill!

She WILL Be Your Friend...I Like Her Mom

Kid friendships are so easy. My 3-year-old meets a little girl at the park and in two minutes she's telling me all about her new bestest friend. She doesn't know the little girl's name, but she knows they are kindred spirits.

Moms don't work that way. I wish they did. I wish I could go to Wal-Mart and decide that the mom who looks just as tired as me was going to be my new friend. We could get mani-pedi's together and commiserate about potty training together.

But it's just not that easy. Moms - women in general, but especially moms - first have to measure each other up first. Does her hair look as bad as I think mine looks? Are her kids giving her a run for her money (as bad as mine are me)? What's in her buggy?
Next we have to test the waters - exchanging small talk. Weather, school, kids... Then you build into heavy stuff - ask about the husband. If you both roll your eyes or you both smile with a twinkle in your eyes, things are looking good.

So what does a mom do next? Exchange numbers and arrange a time to get out? No. We force our children to play together. The first encounter is usually somewhere safe like Chick-Fil-A or McDonald's. After that you can move on to more private meet-ups. And of course - this winds up being the ONE child your kid doesn't really like. But you make your kids play anyway...preferably in another room so that you and New Mom Friend can talk, all the while praying that your child doesn't bite the other child and you'll be asked to leave.


(PS - this is my best friend's daughter knocking down my daughter - they are best friends)

But just as you and New Mom Friend are laughing over something only a mom would find hilarious (like poop), your child comes running up to you to tell you all about her new best friend. And you can't help but scream a silent "YES!" in your head.


(The newest in Rodeo sports - Kid Wrangling)

Baby Sisters

There are no Baby Sisters in our house.

Sarah Bradley is asking when her Baby Sister will be coming home. She wants me to call the adoption coordinator and ask for a Baby Sister.

If only it would be that easy when Daddy and I are ready... I wish planning another child was as easy as placing an order. But when we're ready for #3, we will be sure to let everyone know that SB wants a Baby Sister.

What We Moms Love

To go along with yesterday's post about what non-parents take for granted (okay, let's be honest...non-parents and dads), I thought I would do one about what what non-moms are missing out on.

Now, I'm not trying to make this sound like if you don't have a child your life is incomplete. And I don't want to make those who are unable to have a child right now feel bad - trust me, I know the boat you are in.

But I polled my friends and these are their actual answers to what non-parents are missing out on:

1. (and the one I agree most with!) The joy of experiencing life through the eyes of a child.
2. Unparalleled honesty.
3. The sweetest hugs.
4. Watching the babies you made grow up to be little people and the love they give. (this goes for the children you have adopted as well, not just the ones made in-house)
5. Sweet, innocent, slobbery kisses!!
6. The hilarious things they say! (ie: this morning, my daughter told me she looked famous.).
7. Watching them when they figure out something new. Be it discovering their feet or figuring out how something works - that's the best!
8. The night time chats where it is just you and your little one.
9. They don't hold grudges.
   
10. Understanding more about how my Heavenly Father loves me. (Amen, sister!)

I so do love being a mom (99% of the time!)

Things Non-Moms Take for Granted

I spent years wanting to be a mom. Being called, "Mommy" was something for which I longed. I wanted the baby to cuddle. I wanted the toddler to call out to me and cuddle. I wanted the child to run to me excitedly with the A on her report card. You get the picture...

So far we're doing good with all that. I love the adoring gazes, the giant hugs and even the licks across my cheek.

But there are so many things that nobody mentions when it comes to parenting. Things non-moms take for granted. Here's my list:

1. Bodily functions being a solo event. I haven't peed by myself in exactly 2 years, 8 months and 5 days.
2. Clean clothes. SB had reflux, so it started early and I still can't manage to go a day while maintaining a clean shirt.
3. TV shows. You think you'll still be able to watch your soap opera or watch GLEE without interruption. Yeah, right. I spend my TV hours watching Max & Ruby, Yo Gabba Gabba and other mind-numbing shows. I hate these shows. You will too. Yet you will watch them over and over, day in and day out, until you have full episodes memorized.
4. Eating a hot meal. Remember that scene in "A Christmas Story" where Ralphie's mom is serving dinner and every time she sits down someone asks for something else. Ralphie wants more milk, the dad wants more potatoes, etc. In the scene Ralphie narrarates that his mother hadn't had a hot meal in years. It's totally true. I sit down and SB needs more milk, Mac drops his spoon, Marshall would like more corn. And while I'm generally a "get it yourself" type - my chair is next to the kitchen door and it's easier for me to get it. That and I'm just super wonderful and nice.
5. Shopping. Doesn't matter if it's for milk or shoes - shopping with kids is no fun. You want to look for shoes - they want to look for Elmo get the two things you need (and the 4 things they're screaming for) and an extra $20. And forget running into the store "real quick." Now you have to grab the kid, the diaper bag, the stroller, your purse and a spare change of clothes in case of accidents. Double that for two kids.
6. Alone time. Be that with your spouse or actually alone. Doesn't happen. If you're cuddling on the couch with your husband, it's guaranteed the baby will cry. If you're blissfully lost in a book, your toddler will pull you back to reality by announcing that she successfully pooped on the potty.
7. Sleeping in & Naps. When my kids were little, they slept until 8:30 or 9:00am, it was wonderful. Now the kids wake at the first rays of light. It's terrible. What's worse is that on non-school days, my daughter is up with the sun, but on school days, she wants to sleep in. But you know, if I want to sleep it, that's not allowed. And when I say, "Daddy will make you breakfast..." My husband rolls back over and the kids protest, "No, I want Momma!" Gee, thanks. Not to mention taking naps - I love naps. Kids might love their own naps, but they do not love Mommy taking naps...
   
8. Home Decor. Interesting, you think? When you have mobile children, Grandma's antique vase can't be in touching range or it will become Grandma's antique shards of glass. Even the dog's food dish isn't safe. Now it's a mid-morning snack for your 2-year-old.
   
9. Phone Calls. They just don't happen when kids are around. Go ahead - give it a try. The plus with this one - you have a good reason to just hang up on annoying unsolicited calls. I've mastered yelling, "Stop! Don't touch the---" click.
   
10. Rational thoughts. You were so smart when you got out of college and went to work in your chosen profession. Mommy brain changes all that. One time, I couldn't recall the name of the "thing you open and it has pages and you read it." Yeah. A book. I couldn't remember the word "book." I have a college degree - in communications no less. But being a mom kills every smart brain cell you have and the time you previously spent learning theories and researching methods is now replaced with children's songs and reciting Fancy Nancy books by heart. So long, sanity!

So these are my Top 10 Things Non-Moms Take for Granted. For now. How about you?

Tattooed Moms have More Fun

It's true.

50 years ago it was Blondes who had more fun, but these days everyone is blonde... be they natural or artificial a la Marilyn.



But that was then (actually, the film Gentlemen Prefer Blondes came out in 1953 - a full 57 years ago).

These days, tattooed girls have more fun.


Well, maybe not this tattooed girl... I'm sure this ancient art of tattoo was incredibly painful.

But this girl, I'm sure is not afraid to live life.

(photo found via cnancoo's photobucket page)

Tattooing is the new blonde. Where 50 - even 30 - years ago it was considered daring to go platinum, now it's daring to be tattooed.

Now, I understand that being tattooed is not for everyone. Some people find it morally questionable, religiously wrong or just plain ugly. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, so that's fine.

But I'll be the first to tell you I disagree. Most of my church's leadership is inked. Many people influence and affluence have tattoos, even if they are hidden under their suits and skirts. And personally, I think most tattoos are gorgeous because they are a self-expression of the wearer (and artist).

Personally, I have been inked 5 times, but only have 3 tattoos.
My first was heart-shaped a music note on my right hip. All during my education I was a musician playing in marching, symphonic and jazz bands - it symbolized my love of music. The heart was colored orange for Clemson, the flag blue for my (band) fraternity Kappa Kappa Psi. Where you would see the shine in a bubble was made into a cross for my faith. I was 20 years old when I got that.

A year later I had a dream that I had a fairy similar to Tinkerbell tattooed as well. So I went to another artist (who turned out to be not such a great artist) and had a fairy in a green dress - not Tinkerbell - tattooed above the music note. It was not lovely. It was Bart Simpson in a dress with wings. It was terrible. My boyfriend (now husband) hated it.

A year after that, I went elsewhere to get it fixed - Bart Simpson was transformed in to a blonde fairy with flowing hair and the shaky lines the previous tattooer had done were fixed. My husband still doesn not love the fairy (whom I had named Albany for some reason). And she's not my favorite thing in the world, but it was done when I was 21 years old (fixed at 22) and I don't regret doing something that expressed who I was at the time.

It took a long time to get under the needle a 4th time. This time at 26 years old, my cousin and I got matching 4-leaf clovers between our shoulder blades. The 4-leaf clover represents the Trinity - Father, Son & Holy Spirit, plus an extra for luck. I used to say I didn't believe in luck, but I think I do. God makes us all lucky at some time or another. But what the tattoo is isn't as important as who I was with and what it means. Having a matching tattoo with my cousin means the world to me!

Lastly (for now), I got a flurry of snowflakes on my left leg. One for each member of our family. My husband's is blue and orange, mine is pink and orange. SB's is pink and blue, Mac's is purple and blue. (The kids colors were chosen pink/blue for gender and the color of their birthstone. I stuck with gender for the hubs and I - both with orange for our love of Clemson.) I got this one this April at the age of 29.



And I can't wait to get more! I don't know if I'm having more fun, but I'm definitely expressing myself in what I consider to be the ultimate way. I hope I'm living life so that when I die, St Peter said he had to call me home because my body was worn out and well used!

Are you tattooed? Why or why not?

Moms are Supposed to Look like Girls

Did you know that moms are supposed to look like girls? I know, it's a shocking revelation amid the spit-up, ketchup stains and 3-day-old ponytails, but it's true.

Recently in an online group I'm a part of the topic of femininity came up. Most of us admitted to the mom look. If you don't know the mom look, let me describe it for you. Better yet, let's score the Mommy Look, add up your points...

Pony tail +1
Baseball cap over ponytail +2
No make-up +1
Make-up that includes eyeliner and/or mascara -1
College tshirt +1
Your husband's college tshirt +1
Said tshirt has stains on it +1
Mom jeans +1
Mom sweats +2
Jeans you paid more than $50 for -1

Now, your score: If you hit all 10 points: You're worth more than this sweetie. I promise underneath it all, you are a woman. Beg your hubby for some money and hit the mall, sweetie. Please buy yourself a new outfit and get your hair done!

If you scored 7-9 points: Clean up and take some pride in yourself, chick! Dig up that adorable skirt you bought for "special occasions," put on some lipstick and take a LONG shower. You're worth it.

If you scored 3-6 points: You're not doing too bad, but everyone deserves to look girlier now and again. Spruce it up and you're doing good.

If you scored 1-2 points: You're doing great, honey, but don't make the rest of us look bad.

If you scored 0 points (or less): Stop being so perky. Just stop.

I personally score between 5-7 points on any give day. I may get as low as 3 or 4 on Sundays. So I decided that I needed to be more feminine. I need do actually do something with my mess of hair and maybe even put on some eyeliner. The parade of Clemson shirts that I wear daily needed to be replaced with at least fitted plain shirts.

So with a little generosity from my mother and an afternoon of shopping I got some new clothes and shoes to help me feel more like the woman I used to be BC (before children). Now, I want to note that I did NOT do this so my husband would find me more attractive or because he wanted me to. I did this for me. I used to be a girl - a lady! After having children, I was no longer a lady, but a mom.

All it takes is as little as 5 extra minutes in the day to go from 10 points to 5 (or better!): put on the nicer shirt, put a little eyeshadow and liner on and choose the funky shoes vs the flipflops (I know - my hardest one!).

So here's my effort: Allison before and after... I feel so much better about myself now - feminine, girly, even sexy - and I hope you do too! (and if you can't tell, I have on 4 inch heels!)

The Memorial Stone (funny)

An email I got today...

Jim died.

His will provided $40,000 for an elaborate funeral.

As the last guests departed the affair, his wife Sharon turned to her oldest and dearest friend. 'Well, I'm sure Jim would be pleased,' she said.

'I'm sure you're right,' replied Brenda, who lowered her voice and leaned in close. 'How much did this really cost?'

'All of it,' said Sharon . 'Forty thousand.'

'No!' Brenda exclaimed. 'I mean, it was very nice, but $40,000?'

Sharon answered, 'The funeral was $6,500. I donated $500 to church. The whiskey, wine and snacks were another $500. The rest went for the Memorial Stone.'

Brenda computed quickly. '$32,500 for a Memorial Stone? How big is it?'

To train or not to train

Mac is almost 2.5. Sarah Bradley was day-time potty trained at 2.5, so it seems like the right time to break out the pull-ups and big-boy pants.

He wants to go potty. He wants to take his diaper off and sit down. He never does anything - but he wants to. Maybe he is ready to potty train.


But I'm not ready. I just potty trained SB last summer. I'm not ready to do this again! Not to mention the fact that SB is a girl - she was relatively easy to train. But this whole boy thing and making sure his...thing...is pointing the right direction is a daunting idea.

That and I don't want to admit that my baby is growing up. We missed out on the first 10 months of his life - he's only been home 18 months - I'm not ready for my baby to be a big boy just yet.

The signs, however, are there. Mac is growing up and he's getting ready to say adios to diapers (that part would be most welcome!).

For example, the other day, I went into his room after his nap and found him naked from the waist down. The floor was soaked and the bed was soaked - he had peed all over the place.
Then, I smelled it. Poop. My dear son, it seemed, had taken his diaper off, backed up against his diaper genie and pooped on it. The pee was just for fun, I assume.

He was quite pleased with himself. Me not so much.

Where did I put those pull-ups again?

Nuts

When my son Mac, 2, got up from his nap, I changed his diaper as always.

He said, "Momma, where my nuts?"
Me, sputtering and shocked, "What?!??"
Mac: "On my shirt, Momma. My nut!"

His shirt today has a peanut on it.

I nearly keeled over. Thank goodness he didn't mean those nuts!

The Dish Fairy Did Not Come

I don't have a dish washer. Well, I do - they're called my hands. But I don't have an automatic dish washer that's as simple as load, push buttons, then unload. How heavenly that would be!

No, the dishes must be hand washed. And yet again, the Dish Fairy has not come. That means I, the domestic goddess that I am, must go into the kitchen and muck the oatmeal out of the breakfast bowls myself. Did I mention that this oatmeal is from last Friday? Yeah.

Maybe if I wait long enough the children will learn to wash dishes. But that's probably a bad idea seeing as they're still preschoolers and should not handle knives. Not to mention the fact that I'm sure they would miss key particles of food stuck to my favorite non-stick frying pan.

Enough procrastinating... I guess today, I'm the Dish Fairy.