Spring Break

It's spring break time.

So I made banana chocolate chip pancakes today. I love those things. So do the kiddos and surprisingly, the husband raved about them. And I thought they wouldn't be his style, since he's not an overly sweet breakfast kind of guy. We don't use syrup, just the bananas and choco chips in them are flavor enough.

They found a chocolate chip that melted into the shape of a heart. And i thought to myself, that yes, it truly is the little things.

I then took the girls to Justice, so Oldielocks could buy a gift for a friend and spend her own birthday gift cards. When we got to the register, I couldn't find one of her gift cards. It was a $20 dollar one. So I pitched in the extra 20, but then kicked myself for it. She didn't see bummed, or worried about the gift card. I mean shed a tear or something, kid. I was annoyed by her lack of caring/ responsibility.... or so it seemed. I was struggling with feelings of parent failure/she will grow up to be a beverly hills diva when she came to me with 20 dollars of her piggy bank money. Her own thoughts to make it right. Which made me smile/sad/glad/tired/proud/ all at the same time.

To which I started think about how parenting sucks. This stuff isn't easy. Too many people want it to be easy, so they let the kids make the adult choices. Because it's just easier that way. Not here, not today.

I know I want my girls to feel just like this when they mother their own children. If I let them grow up feeling that only their feelings matter, that life is always about them, then I will be doing them a big disservice. I want them to feel like crap when they do wrong. Even if it's on accident. Even if it wasn't intentional. I know I would feel like poo if I lost 20 bucks, so she should too. And she did. Just later than I would have and that's okay too.

Maybe tomorrow I will write about something more lighthearted, but today mothering has taken over.

Mean Girls

The husband is a softball coach. Of the 10 year old variety. Oldielocks has been playing for years and I think coaching fulfills the hubby's need to be Pete Rose.. or something like that.

Of course with any sports, there is politics. And holy cannoli there is some politics involved with this. Basically the hubby stood up for the coaches and mangers and became their voice for a certain situation.

(not trying to be all cryptic, but you never know when someone is googling hot dog poo and gets my blog and puts two and two together.)

Last night, a parent, who is also on the board, was talking trash. Straight up diarrhea of the badmouthin' trash. About my HUSBAND. I'm not one to get all mad... wait- who the lucky charms am I kidding- My mouth plays it fast and loose... when needed. But seriously, I wish I had her. I only heard the snarky comments. Which was enough for me to eye roll in her general direction. She is cackling with some other lady, and seriously she cackles. I would not lie about some cackling. I would probably laugh if I was annoyed with her cackle.

Does this broad really need for someone to remind her that not only is it inappropriate but just plain bad human behavior to speak disrespectfully of a member of their own organization, in a public setting? At least talk about him on the phone or in the bathroom. I guess I know what happens when short chunky mean girls grow up-

They grow up to be short, chunky, OLD mean girls.

Taking out my hoops and pulling back the hair. Mommas gonna go stand up for her man!!!

She's 10

I swear I blinked and she turned ten.

My Oldielocks.


Today she is ten. I fight blinking because I'm afraid I will blink again and she will be twenty. I don't want her to be twenty for at least forty more years. I like her being ten, and I liked her being nine. I've learned to embrace each age, instead of mourning the past ones. Because I've enjoyed every minute of her life. Even when she crapped in the tub at a relatives house. I think it turned me into a real mom.

She turned me into HER mom. She has met every milestone, ahead of time, with an ease and grace that astounds me. Who has a kid that walks at 7 months? Whose kid takes test on things she has never seen and aces it? Me. Mine. I'm that lucky. I tell her no and 99% of the time she listens. She's not perfect. I've sent her to bed early and to school in her pajamas.

I've also watched her blossom into this beauty that is such a perfect blend of her father and I. She has the common sense of me and the quiet emotion of him. She has his brown eyes and dimple, and my hands.

She is ten today, and we are celebrating. Celebrating the gift that I have been given that is her. I love that little girl!