Jeeeeeezaloo. It was Pirates and Princess Day. Of course it was. It was Pirates and Princess Day and I arrived with the children in tow, neither dressed as a pirate. Nor a princess.
I had no pirate eye patch. No tattered pants. No swashbuckling… not that I’m sure that’s a thing.
And. A sack lunch. It was Pirates. Princess. Sack lunch day.
For goodness sakes. This was reminiscent of the time that I took the Middlest to school two years ago and he didn’t have school. Or the day I took him in his pajamas because he swore up and down that it was pajama day and he had a note in his bag to confirm. It didn’t cross my mind that perhaps the note was left over from another pajama day that had occurred.
I am just not that mom. I mean, I love all of you that moms. No joke. Today, I applaud you, stand up for you, and give you kissy faced emojis and all the heart eyes. The moms who have their shit together. You are the moms that give momming a good name by making ting little sandwiches in shapes every day or making homemade breakfast 365 days a year. Who make Pinterest a reality. And who bake things that not only smell good but also happen to look edible, too. You. Moms. Rock. No joke… No sarcasm. You should maybe contemplate giving lessons on having shit in one single group/pile/heap. For all of us mamas who just don’t have that “je ne sais quoi,” you are the standard we attempt to reach.
I’m trying so hard right now. To get all my poop in a group. And I’m getting, perhaps, closer than I’ve ever been before. But we’re just not there yet.
We’re still in a place where we get letters from our HOA about the state of our landscaping. We’re still in the place where I see crumbs in drawers that I haven’t dealt with. We’re still in a place where we know that our budget is a little busted but we’re stuck between the whole “live for the day” and “live for 50 years ahead.” We’re still at the place where our front room is transformed into a fort daily and so it looks like Occupy Omaha is taking place when you walk in my front door. We’re still at the place where a list of to-dos remains from a year of unraveling. We’re still in many of the places.
The places of kids. And cancer. And scatterbrained mamas {oh wait. That’s not going away}.
So… shit together… I do not have. But we’re working on it. Picking up alllllllllll the tiny turds and getting them in one. singular. pile. Poop in a group.
But you know what? I don’t hate myself or my life right now. I rather like my momming and I think, I’m currently not raising jerks. I used to be so mad at myself when I didn’t get the Pirate to school {but let’s be real, he would have wanted to be a Princess}. I don’t feel overwhelmed with busy. I don’t feel like I’m the worst mom in existence. I feel like I still make it a-ok.
I dropped off a Lunchable after forgetting the sack lunch {and bless you, the Middlest’s pre-K for being so go with the flow with me… And even offering to find something for him to eat.}. And he loved it. The Middlest did. I just told the Middlest to say “arrrrrr” a whole lot throughout the day and tell people he was able to keep both eyes because of his ninja pirate skillz. I don’t know if it worked or what. But I didn’t hear any complaints at pick-up so it must have been just enough to inch him through. The Oldest just got his mid-term reports and he’s nailing it… like, who needs mom to parent the Oldest when the Oldest wants to parent himself and his brothers? And as for the Littlest, he will be just fine as long as he can talk in real sentences, not just “eh eh eh na na y ba ba y mama y daddddddy eh eh EH!” by the time he’s 17. Which is basically a given according to his speech teacher ;).
The thing is, we’re all doing alright. In fact, better than alright. And while there are a lot of things that aren’t happening in the world, loving my kiddos is not one of them. And at the end of the day, if my kids got lovin’… whether pirate, princess, or NOTHIN’ … they got what they neeee-eeeed.
And that, my friends, is a pretty damn good thing.
No pirates, no princesses. No lunch sack. And sometimes, no diapers in the bag. Or the car. Or anywhere within poop sight. But still. We’re loving all we can.
And at the end of the day. Pirate. Policeman. Princess. The stuff. They might not have it. But really. Truly. Love, just might be, all they need.
I’m almost sure. 😉
