He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Boulder

Sisyphus was this Greek mythology guy who had to push a boulder up a hill everyday only to have it roll back down on him. I can relate so much with that story. If you’ve have 3 kids or any kids then you have an  idea of where I’m going with this.

Here is my list of boulders: in order of rage.

10. Diapers (my kids are 10,8 and7 now, but this one will always be on the list somewhere)

9. Baths for the kids (I burn easily, but I will go to the pool everyday if it means I don’t have to chase them around to bathe them)

8. Breakfast for the kids. (I’m a cereal girl myself and hope to raise cereal kids)

7. Switching out the clothes for each season. (my kids never want to change to the new season, so I have to hide my daughter’s summer sleeveless dress before the school call Children’s Services)

6. The Lawn (to quote my best friend “Once you mow the lawn, you will always mow the lawn”) or as I like to call it “My Husband’s Fucking Job”

5. The Snow in my driveway (we live in Utah, see #6)

4. Toilets ( I have 2 boys, need I say more)

3. Sticky shit on my floor (my kids now play “Cinderella” by scrubbing that up for me )

2. Refereeing the Arguments over the Wii. (I will, and I promise you this, set the fucking Wii on fire in my front yard so all the neighbors can see what a crazy bitch looks like)

1. Laundry (the mother of all boulders to push; death, taxes, and the smelly piles in the laundry room, in the hall, in the bathroom, etc.)

Whites, darks, colors, delicates, etc. ; I do it all. Well maybe not all. I don’t iron (anymore). Buy enough t-shirts and jeans and that takes care of itself. My husband wisely takes his work shirts into the dry cleaners. I wisely wear the same thing over and over and over. My kids, however, are still working on the problem that Mommy only washes things in the hamper and on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Anything not done on those days doesn’t get washed. This is fine for my youngest; her grandmothers have her stocked for clothes until she’s 17. The boys struggle with their aim. 

The old me ( the one how had enough interest and energy to care what other moms think) would never let my kids be caught dead with grass stains on their jeans. The new and wiser me thinks that the next laundry day is just around the corner. Don’t worry I’ll get to it soon or later. 

As you can see I’m not a fan of housework, or cleaning my children. But with all of that said my biggest fear in life is for someone to tell me my house is as dirty as I think it is. So until Zeus tells me I can stop I will proudly push my boulders and pray to the gods on Olympus that my kids will push their own boulders one day.

It’s only fair.

Mantra’s Really Work

Yogis and their ilk are always saying that we should have a personal mantra to brings us to our happy place.

My personal mantra is…

“Leave me the fuck alone!!”

I say this silently to myself  when my 10 year old son bellows from the other room,

“Mommmm! Payton is playing with the hammer and nails!!” (Payton is my 7 year old daughter who thinks Mommy’s tool box is also for her.)

“Leave me the fuck alone!” sounds so good in my head and would sound even better aloud. But I dare not.

Sometimes I say it into my pillow when they are running up down the hall at 9pm.I don’t want to say it aloud.It would abruptly reveal that their loving mother is a lunatic or introduce yet another cuss word to their expanding sailor’s vocabulary.

I just want to say it to myself. When I think it I close my eyes, take a big relaxing inhale and slow exhale, and smile. It’s a little thing but it works (for a while).

Maybe it is the big slow breath that does the trick, I don’t know. All I know is that as long as I have my mantra with me I won’t be drinking bottles of red wine at 9am.

“This is the business we have chosen.”

How many times has that famous line run through my head? A thousand? A million?

If you don’t know the quote, it is from The Godfather Part II (my personal favorite). Hyman Roth is the soft-spoken antagonist that reminds the young upstart Michael Corelone that even through the tough times (in

the Mafia that means murder) we must remember that we chose to live this life; our business.

Granted I don’t equate myself to a mafia godfather, but I do see this as a point to be taken seriously.

When I’m still in my pj’s, unwashed, fuzzy teeth and all I don’t feel this mother/wife/woman thing is a business.I’m missing my paycheck from the last 10 years. But when I look up and see clearly that I do matter.

My business (for the lack of a better word) is to organize,coordinate, frustrate, liberate and instigate my family.

Who was my first alarm clock?  Mom.

Who was my first fashion police?  Mom.

Who taught me to bathe myself and reminded me that if I didn’t bathe everyone would call me “stinky” and how would that feel? Mom.

When I feel the wave of self-pity (and I feel it more often than not), Hyman’s soft but firm voicespeaks to me. And I am reminded that I’m IT. I’m all they have separating them from the world that deceives them, mocks them and can crush them. (metaphorically speaking, that is). I get up, brush my teeth and wash those clothes, damn it.

What can a 42 year old woman with fuzzy teeth and too much 70’s/80’s pop culture on the brain offer as insight? Plenty.

For one thing, Think about the choices you make, because you have to live with them. And make the best out of a challenging situation. For example,  Whacking your man-child brother, Fredo or washing 10 loads of laundry. Both can be taxing on the soul.

Salute.

 

Facebook Needs a “Gag” Button

I have a friend who gave up Facebook for Lent.  Right now, I have to say that wouldn’t be a big sacrifice for me.  I get irritated every time I “go out there.”   The AAP even has a term for teens who think all the happy horsesh- –  out there is how everyone feels all the time – it’s called “Facebook Depression.”  I think I might have Facebook “Irritation.”  Is it really necessary to go out there and show off how much you love your husband?  Do we need to see constant posts that are Praise and Glory in his Name?  Yes I said it.   You know those people.

I mean, I’m being cynical here, I know…But what happened to just praying to yourself, and writing a love note to your husband IN A CARD?  Do we all have TO KNOW about it?  Facebook is obviuosly an outlet for people who really need to be heard.

Okay okay, I’ve done my share of show-off posts.  Recently my 5 year old caught a trout, for instance.  But please –  if you ever look at one of my posts and need to hit a “Gag” button, rather than the “Like” button – tactfully tell me to go get a real job.  A paying one.

No one wants their friends to have the impression that “she’s not doing so well right now.”  Facebook reflects that.  When most people ask you how you are doing, you don’t say “Well, not so good.  My husband’s out of town and I have a sinus infection.  I’m kind of tired and grumpy right now.”  Unless it’s a close friend, you generally nod and say “Yep doing okay.”

Recently a friend  was speculating  – what if she posted, “I picked my son up from day care and fed him crappy processed foods for dinner.  Then I collapsed into bed so I could live to do it another day.”  Would we have as many “Likes” as someone who posts, “Busted my son out of day care.  Now it’s chicken nuggets and french fries for dinner.  Gotta love the working life!”    I dare you  – try it and see how many likes you get for a postive post, versus a negative post.  I’m betting postiive wins every time.  (Does that sound negative?)

Lent; It isn’t just in your pocket

Lent.

The word itself conjures up and image of laundry day and cleaning out my 10 year old’s jean pockets

.Neither one of those are happy thoughts. But what could I find in my mental/spiritual pocket that needs to be thrown away or polished up and reinvented.

Catholics every where are gathering to smear ashes and discuss what we should “give up for Lent”. Being a convert myself I’m still trying to figure out how I can make myself anew. Bring the spiritual and secular together in my life. 

I like to think of Lent as a good old fashioned housecleaning of the mind and spirit. Choosing something in your life that brings you down ( for me it’s procrastination) and giving it a good once over with the feather duster and tossing it out if it does nothing for you. 

Examples below:

What to Keep                What to Fix up                What to trash

Coffee                             Follow through                 Procrastination

 Yoga                             Morning meditation           Cursing   

 

Last year it was cursing. I like to keep that piece of Lent in my pocket for future Lents. It’s always a favorite. 

This year it’s procrastination. I’m sure I can’t overcome it completely, but I’m taking baby steps. Like this post; it is breaking the seal. I”m officially pulling out this lent of a blog and dusting it off and reinventing it. 

I hereby commit to writing 1 blog per week. Rain, sun, snow or just plain laziness.

I will have a post up by Monday of every week. 

I will write about nonsense that happens to me, I will write about nonsense that happens to others. I will promise to never let a few facts get in the way of a good story. 

Please encourage me on this quest to blogging discipline. Comment. nice things only, I’m new at this.

 

 

Love and lots of coffee,

Jen Dvoranchik

 

Emily Mathias – Re(tired) Mom of 4

Hi everyone, it’s Emily Mathias here!  I am a mother of four children under 9.  I like to say I’m retired from my former career, but I do try to write for our local newspaper every now and then as a free lance writer.  My best friend Jen and I thought our sarcasms, funny quips and quotes would be fun to share on a blog, rather than just on the phone with each other.  Once a year we escape for a girls trip so we can talk trash, tease each other and complain.  Occasionally we speak of gratitude and faith, but mostly we just keep it shallow.

Recently, I sent Jen a simple text that said, “Honey would you go cry in the other room – mommy is trying to hear this on the TV.”   Jen’s text back sugested that this quote be the title for my first blog post – you know that one we both keep talking about, and talking about, but never actually…write.  For the record, my crying 2 year old was having a twenty minute meltdown over losing 1 of 3 rocks she had lost in the preschool parking lot.  Sigh.  Sometimes I have to dig down deep for my nurturing spirit.

We would love it if you would join us, so you too can share your mommy-moments and quotes.