The tenth year

Standard

image

Ten long/short years have flown by.  We have weathered many storms and we’ve seen so many beautiful sunrises.  We have spent so much time and energy worrying about the present, questioning our past, and discussing our future.  But…there has been so much more time spent living in the moment, laughing at and loving each other.

Jason,
This is incredibly difficult for me to write.  Words cannot describe the love I have for you.  There isn’t a word that can sum up my feelings for you, our marriage, and our family.  You have been my rock, my punching bag, my sanity through some of the hardest times in my life.  You keep me grounded when I float too high in the sky, yet let me soar to the clouds with my dreams.  You are my soulmate.  You are my end all and be all. 

Ten years.  Ten years ago when we met, I was lost.  I was on a sinking ship and I didn’t know how to swim.  You walked into my life and taught me how.  You taught me that life can be whatever you want to make it.  No dream is stupid.  Every idea is worth exploring.    Don’t ever stop dreaming Jason.  You are amazing.  You have a child like innocence,  which admittedly,  drives me insane.  You love with your entire heart.  No matter how many times someone steps on it, you keep loving.  I’m still learning to do that.  It comes much harder for me. 

In ten years we’ve done a lot of things, traveled to a lot of places, and created a ton of memories.   But my fondest memories will always be you and I sitting and laughing.  Laughing at each other, laughing at other people,  just laughing.  (We are funny people.  Like really funny.)

As we embark on the next years, I can only hope that we continue to love, laugh and support each other.  I will always be by your side.  I promise you that no matter what, I will love you til my last breath. 

Happy anniversary,  Jason. 

Love always
Laura.

image

P.s.  I had no idea I stick my tongue out so much in pictures.

Dear crank and spank

Standard

One day I might not be here when you read this blog.  One day you might stumble upon this as you are researching your thesis on sarcastic mothers and the damage they do to young children.   One day you might ask why do these people know me?  Know my brother?  And keep calling me the terrible.  One day you might wonder which one of you is crank and which one is spank.  (I’m not telling you).  Anyway, how ever you stumble upon this blog, there are some things I need you to know.  I’m writing this close to your third birthday.  In three long short years, you have grown leaps and bounds. 

You are and will always be my greatest accomplishment.   I will always be proud of you.  I will always be in your corner.  I promise to listen when you talk.  To offer advice, to teach you, to love you more everyday.

I promise when you need me, I will be there.  I will run, swim, crawl to you.  I will always answer your phone calls.  Day or night, no matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, I will answer.

I promise to be your biggest fan.  I will be there cheering you on.  Whether it is baseball or ballet, I’ll be beaming with pride. 

I promise to tell you when you’ve fucked up.  I promise to help you make it right.

I promise not to be your best friend, rather, your mother.  A mother who has loved you since before you were born.  A mother who has rules and structure.   Not so much that you feel smothered, but just enough to make you a functional adult.

I promise to let you be you.  Whatever that may be.  All I ask is that you have tolerance to people not like you.

I have been talking to you since before you were born.  I have loved you since the moment you were conceived. (Don’t think about that for too long).  I have been proud to be your mother since the day you were born.  I love you with every single fiber of my being. 

Happy third birthday crank and spank.  The best three years of my life.

image

Adult-like and shit

Standard

image

I have moments of deep thought.  Granted not often, and it usually is short lived.  Today while sitting in traffic on my way home from work, one of these rare moments hit me.  I’m not sure what provoked it; maybe the song on the radio, maybe the sun, that we haven’t seen here in south Jersey for at least three months, maybe it was just the quiet in my head.  For the first time in a while, I wasn’t thinking about diapers, vomit, house cleaning, or schedules.  I wasn’t worried about time, (rather the lack of), milestones, birthdays, spring cleaning, or money.  It was the first time in many months that I just was.  I was there, driving along, sitting in traffic, with not a thought in my head.  Then I started thinking about my friends, and family.  About how different our lives are now then what we ever dreamed they would be.

Some of us are married, some not.  Some divorced, some just starting their married life journey.  Some of us have babies, some of us have teenagers.  That is beyond scary.  We have real jobs, with real desks and real computers.  (Except me.  I don’t.).  Some of us are deployed in lands that I could never imagine visiting.  With real dangers, and real guns.  Some of us are struggling with our demons, some getting help and some wasting away.  Some of us are in therapy because we are all royally fucked on one level or another.  We have houses, and cars, and plants we haven’t killed yet.  We talk about things like mortgages and Roth IRAs.  We worry about our parents and their aging.  We worry if we will ever have it together.  A good weekend starts on Friday night (not Thursday, day) and ends Sunday evening (not sometime Tuesday). We are perfectly happy to curl up with a glass of wine (not a bottle of Miller Lite) and watch a movie or read a book. 

Is this growing up?  Is this what being adult is?  Because I seem to remember, being eighteen and knowing everything about, well, everything.  I was an adult.  I was grown, damn it.  No one was going to tell me what to do or how to live.  I had that shit.  I was young, smart, and fun.  Looking back, maybe I wasn’t so grown.  Maybe I wasn’t really an adult.  Maybe I needed a lot more life before I could say that. 

I dyed my hair for fun.  Now I dye my hair to cover the ridiculous amount of gray hairs. (I blame this exclusively on the terrible). My boobs are getting dangerously close to my belly button and I think I used to have an ass.  It seems to have flattened out horizontal.  But luckily I still have acne.  Yay for my face!  Please note the sarcasm there.  I wax my lip and chin…What the hell?!?  And I make weird noises after I’ve sat too long. 

This wasn’t a part of the deal.  This wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal.  No one told me about this.  No one told me I would turn into my mother and my mother would turn into my grandmother.  Truthfully, I wouldn’t have believed them anyway. 

So the question I still have is, am I really an adult?  It certainly doesn’t feel like I’ve got this shit.  I still wait for the day that it hits me that I’m a certified adult with my big girl panties on.  In fact, I knew more back then, than I do know.  A whole lot more was black and white, whereas now, all I see is gray.

image

When, please tell me when…

Standard

When am I going to stop saying….

image

We like our underwear...with our diapers

Get that out of your mouth!

Please for the love that is all holy in this world stop taking your pants off.

Why?  Just why?  Please tell me why.

No!  You can’t run around the house naked…unless you want to use the potty.  Then guess what?  You can run around naked all day.

Stop wasting food! 

How can you still be hungry? 

We color on paper only.  Not walls, not the couch, not our beds, not the dog, and certainly not each other.

We do not bite our brother.  EVER.

We do not bite the dog.  EVER.

Seriously, when will I be able to stop saying these things?  For the record, I would be cool with the naked factor, if they were potty trained.  But since they “like our diapers, mommy” I think we have a little way to go.

image

A butt pillow

Little Old Me.

Standard

10 “facts” about yours truly…

image

1.  I am the person people call when they need to vent. And I like that. 

2.  I pride myself on my ability to laugh.  Laugh at myself, other people and horrible situations.

3. I try find good in other people, but I’ve learned that there isn’t always good to be found.

4. I listened to a ridiculous amount of angry rap music while I was pregnant with cranky and spanky.

5.  Although I’m head over heels in love with my husband, I sometimes want to punch him in the throat.

6.  When I feel passionate about something, I can’t and won’t let it go.

7.  I really want a housekeeper.

8.  But I don’t want a nanny.  I love the time the terrible and I spend together.  A babysitter on call might be nice though.

9.  The terrible have completed something in my soul that I didn’t realize was incomplete.  I thank Jason everyday for knocking me up.

10.  I realize without the trials and tribulations, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.  I like this person.  Therefore, I am thankful for the hard times, the sweat and the tears.

image

You Want My Life.

Standard

The newest game all the cool kids are playing?  Walk your brother like a dog.
image

The things the terrible did while I was at work….

1. Knocked over the flowers that were on the kitchen table. I know this because half the flowers were still on the floor when I came home.

2.  Got into the junk drawer (don’t pretend like you don’t have one) and apparently were playing with screws.  I know this because I stepped on one as I walked into the house.

3.  Smashed Oreo cookies into the carpet.  I know this because I am staring at the carpet right now

4.  Got into the upstairs bathroom and used my black eyeliner to draw on the wall.  Much to my surprise I found a mural clearly made by two year olds as I closed the door.

5.  Emptied the contents of my underwear drawer down the steps.  Nothing quite coming home and finding your lacy thong hanging off the banister

6.  Found pens and drew on themselves.  They appear to have been trying to make prison tats.

7. Covered each other with the creme from the Oreos.  I’m assuming they did this before smashing the cookie parts into the carpet.  There is still creme stuck in their hair like hair gel.

8.  Ate some kind of chips. I know this because the chips also appear to be on my kitchen floor.

9.  Made a pillow fort in the living room.
Guessing so jumping off the couch would be safer.

10.  Rode our dog, Lucy, like a horse.  I’m only guessing on this one. She won’t come downstairs and I can only assume that they are the reason why.

This was my living room….and now it is a scene from horders.
image

Poor Lucy.  It really is a hard life.
image

The Scariest Noises You’ve Ever Heard.

Standard

5 noises that make me want to curl up in a ball and hide under the bed.

1.  The toilet flushing and my not yet potty trained children are nowhere to be found.

2.  Giggling followed by a crash, followed by belly laughter, followed by a crash and finally, screaming.

3.  Silence.  Silence followed by quick moving foot steps and then giggling.

4.  The words:  I wanna watch mighty machines mommy.

5.  The ever quiet noise that a metal truck sounds like falling down my staircase.  Always followed by the words Oopps, sorry mommy.

For the record, all of these noises happen daily and daily I think this is it,  They are going to need to sedate me and take me to my quiet place….
image

And for the record, it hasn’t happened yet.  Here’s to another day of mediocre parenting!

image

Yeah that’s right I taught them to play fetch…
And let them dress themselves…
image