After a long day at the office/school, the kids and I bombard the house with one mission in mind… shoes off, comfy clothes on.

I’m not sure when the thought hits them, but every day around 3pm I start craving the fat pants and slippers.  I understand there are comfy alternatives to slacks and such, but I’m not into the leggings at work look.  Plus it gives me extra motivation to get the job done and get home… whatever lights your fire, right?

I manage to get my shoes in the closet when we get home, but for some reason the children’s shoes jump off their feet and land in the hallway – in the middle of the hallway, to be specific, where the aroma can smack me in the face as I walk into the kitchen.

Within minutes of their shoes coming off, I hear the same line from both of them every day… “Moooooooom, can I have a snack?”  They hop on their stools and stare at me with big blue eyes that melt me even on my strongest day.  So we sit at the kitchen island and talk over their snacks and my sweet tea…

Until I can’t take it anymore.  The green cloud of Pepe Le Pew unholiness rises above the island and into my nose, smelling of sour rot, sweat and some sort of barn yard animal.

How do their feet smell this bad!  That’s not meant to be a question, it’s an appeal for humanity.  I am raising sweet, intelligent, kind, funny children here but I feel like someone may actually lose consciousness if not adequately warned of the potency behind these little feet.

Fast forward to dinner… we are at the dining room table waiting for my young one to finish (he holds the trophy for slowest eater in the universe – that title comes with no cash prize, only opportunities to test my patience and out maneuver my bribery skills).  We are eating and talking and being the idyllic little Norman Rockwell(ish) family, when once again the stench wafts my way.

The worst part… the three of us sat there smelling each others feet to see which pair was the worst, like it was a final challenge on Fear Factor.

I can’t be sure, but I feel like we are a little more strange than other families.

#WhatTheFunk

#ImProudToSayILost

#TheArmyMayWantToHarnessThis

Except for our Friday “Pizza and a Movie Night” in the sun room in front of the TV, our dinners are eaten at the dining room table.  Well, let’s be honest.  Sometimes that table is covered in whatever project we have going on so we plan-B-it at the kitchen island, but the point is that we eat as a family.

At dinner tonight, the kids were exceptionally chatty, which I love, but my daughter hit me with a completely random question…

“Are we Christians?”

It took me a few blinks to answer because I’ve talked to her about my faith all her life.

“Yes, I am, absolutely.  But I won’t speak for you.  Are you?”

She’s 10 years old now, old enough to ask thoughtful questions and start forming her own opinions, but young enough to need my guidance and example.  I was hopeful and terrified as she took a second to think about it.

“I believe in God.  I was just wondering because there are so many kinds of people who believe in God, but they are all called something different.”

After a game of 20 questions, I learned that she has a friend who believes in God but won’t go to church.  She has another who goes every Sunday, but only with one parent (the other stays home) and only to the Lutheran Church.  And another who is Catholic but they are “out of practice” (nonpracticing).

After going over the different types of religions, how no one should be judged by what religion they are, that we believe in a merciful God who loves us no matter what, even when we feel unworthy, and that it doesn’t matter what anyone says, as long as you know in your heart that God is real and wants us to be happy, we got all of her questions answered and confusion straightened out.

My son listened to all of this, seemingly disinterested, but apparently hearing every word because he spoke up and said, “I don’t know what you’re worried about.  God knows what you’re thinking, just tell Him your questions in your head so He can answer them.”

I was blown away that a six year old could simplify in one breath what philosophers and theologians have been complicating for centuries.

Then he capped it off with a giggle and said, “I bet God is the king of hide and seek.  He could find you anywhere!”

He didn’t have to eat his vegetables tonight.

#AreWeChristians

#FromTheMouthsOfBabes

#ChildrenAreBlessings

#NothingBetterThanDinnerTableTalk

The last time I was in Paris a street artist rushed up to my brother and me, drawing frantically while mumbling compliments and flatteries (in reality he was probably saying “Stand still you pasty American” but I choose to believe the former).

What came from that encounter was a portrait that showed a side of myself I had never seen before.  The eyes he drew were mine but held a power in them that I couldn’t appreciate at the time.

Through many moves and years of storage in the back of the closet, I finally hung it up in the hall.  I pass it every day on the way to my room and smile at it because now I know the power behind the eyes.

Sleep.

The reason I don’t recognize myself in this picture is because my eyes are too alert, too focused, too sharp.  I was smart then, you see.  But as we mother’s understand, when that precious bundle of sweet-smelling, sleep-sucking joy pops out of you, so does about 40% of the brain power you once had.

At that point in my life I had no children.  I could go to bed when I wanted, wake up when I wanted, take a nap when I wanted.  There were no heels to my eye in the middle of the night when someone was having a bad dream.  There were no deals made or bribery used at night to get little ones to lay down.  There were no wake up calls in the middle of the night with sheets soaking wet (but don’t we always thank God it’s just pee).  There were no tiny bodies who took up 98% of the bed, leaving you the tiniest edge of mattress to cling to.

Sleep.

And the more children you have, and the closer together you have them, the less sleep you get.  Which in turn, drains more of that focus and brain power away.  I don’t know how mothers of multiples do it!  My best friend has twin boys who are incredibly precious, but when they were babies, I clearly remember being proud of her for having matching shoes on her feet.  I mean like give-me-a-hug-because-you-are-rocking-at-life-today kind of proud.  My Grandmother raised seven children… S-E-V-E-N… and was a knockout in pearls in every picture I’ve seen when the kids were young.  How did she do it?!  In pictures, I look like a raccoon-eyed slob with clothes that don’t fit and hair that won’t do what it’s told.

Sleep!

Now that my kids are a little older (my baby girl just turned 10!) and are sleeping through the night, I’m sorry to say that sleep has permanently abandoned me for someone else.  I try to go to bed early, I want to go to bed early, but there just always seems to be one more thing to do.  So by the time I lay down, I’m so tired that I don’t get good REM sleep in the (what feels like) 15 minutes before the Supremes start singing “You Can’t Hurry Love” (that actually is my alarm tone – I’m special like that).  And the cycle continues until I can lay down again to…

Sleep.

But here is the crazy part:  After the kids go to sleep and I stand at the bed looking at their little faces, I miss them.  Like an idiot, I miss them.  They are sleeping right in front of me and were making me nuts just an hour before, but I’ll stand there smiling like a lunatic at them.  I’ve actually drifted off leaning against the door frame doing this…

Go to sleep!

#MyBedroomEyes

#DontNeedBeautySleepButOkLookingSleepWouldBeNice

#LateToBedEarlyToRise

 

 

A mother’s day is full of putting other people first.

I stay up late to do one more load of laundry when one of the kids is just dying to wear something from the hamper.

I get up early to make a breakfast that Picky 1 and Pickier 2 will actually eat.

I chauffeur to and from practices and play dates, even when I am desperate to put on the old fat pants and relax for a minute.

I brave the aisles of the grocery store on Sundays when everyone else in the area seems to be restocking their pantries as well, pushing a “car cart” that feels roughly the size of my SUV.

The bathrooms… how is it that little boys can appear to hit the water, but the next day you find their yellow spray has covered the entire toilet and surrounding tile.  I don’t like it, but I clean it.

But over the last month, I have been forced to put myself first for a change.  My heart is giving me some trouble.  There have been ambulances, hospitals, monitors, xrays and doctors offices for weeks…  I’ve been like an extra on Greys Anatomy, without any hot doctors to fix me.  It has been a scary, frustrating, roller coaster of a ride that I hope never to board again.  But it has shown me a few things…

The laundry won’t do itself, but it also won’t cause the world to stop spinning if it sits in the hamper until the weekend.

The Christmas lights that had to stay up a little too long because I just couldn’t get them down by myself, didn’t cause any accidents from gawking vehicles driving by.

Dinner doesn’t have to be a gourmet meal, the kids are happy with frozen dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets.

Dust provides a protective layer of insurance for your furniture.

Paper plates clean up a lot faster than china.

And the fear and worry that you think will swallow you alive some days can be eased by a simple hug from these little creatures who cause so much havoc to the orderliness you thought was important until you saw the bigger picture.

To all of my friends and family who have given big bear hugs and sent messages of love and support, I thank you.  It was extremely humbling to feel your prayers and well-wishes.  We are incredibly blessed to have you in our lives.

#HeartfeltThanks

#PowerOfPrayer

#NoMoreHeartMonitorWasLikeTheBestChristmasGiftEver

 

I came to a coffee shop for a good cup of coffee and a quiet place to write.

I sat next to a father and son, seemingly having some Sunday QT before the game. I got settled in my chair just in time to hear how the father has been disappointed in his son for years and wished he had never gotten involved with his mother.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, he told this child (16-17 years old, if I had to guess) that it was time to move back to his mom’s house so she could see what a worthless child she had raised.

The child sat there with quiet tears streaming down his face, only speaking to say “Yes sir”.

I realize there is a back story that I don’t know. I realize that it is absolutely none of my business. But…

I slammed my computer shut, turned to the child and said “God bless you. Make yourself proud, know you are worthy of every dream you have. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, make the most out of your life. Be grateful for the good, learn from the bad.  Hopefully it won’t involve listening to that everyday.”

I was promptly cussed thoroughly by dad for getting involved. He was right, I should mind my own business.  But if you choose to have that conversation in a crowded public place, I feel like you lose your right to privacy. 

I’m still shaking from the whole scene.  I don’t care what dad said to me. But to speak to a child that way, not even A child, YOUR child… I ache for this kid, and any siblings he may have.

Our children are our most important legacy, and our only important job.  No matter what you do in life, your role in their lives is all that matters. 

They will make mistakes, teach them how to learn from them. They will be faced with difficult choices, teach them how to make good ones. They will be faced with heartbreak, teach them that you will never be the one doing the breaking. They will need help, teach them that you will be there no matter what.  And for God sake, show your children that they are loved.

Stepping down from my soapbox, in tears for a child’s broken heart.  If you wouldn’t mind saying a prayer that he goes to a loving mother’s open arms, and that I didn’t make life harder for him by opening my big mouth. 

#BrokenHeart

#ChildrenAreOurGreatestBlessings

#WordsCutDeeperThanAnyWeapon

Mothers, I’m just curious …

Is there any greater moment in your day than when you come home after a long day at work… you’re tired… your feet hurt from the heels you know you shouldn’t wear but love… your make up has fallen about an inch below where you put it this morning, making racoon eyes where dark circles already exist… you have buttons imprinted into your belly from the pants that look cute but after a day at the desk have created a semi-permanent red waistline around your stomach… your good hair day is now flat and tucked behind your ears or in a messy ponytail just to keep it out of your face… 

But none of that matters because you’re home now and can live the fantasy you’ve been waiting for since 6:30am…

The feeling of the clasp unhooking, the release of the underwire and the freedom of throwing that bra on the chair without a care in the world.

It really does take so little to make me happy.

Deep sigh of relief…

Do men have a deep sigh moment like that?

#UnderwireWars

#LoveHateRelationship

#TheDryerAteMyFavoriteOne

​I checked the stats page of OutrageouslyOrdinary.com today and what I found was a United Nations roll call! I am humbled, thrilled and extremely curious about what people from other countries must think… hopefully this isn’t your only insight into American parenting (God help us if it is)!! I’ve been walking around grinning all day… amazing!!! THANK YOU to each and every one of you!!!

#UNRollCall

#HolyCrapThatsAlotOfPeople

#OutrageouslyOrdinaryIsInternational 

I put the children to bed early tonight with the hopes of getting some things done to start my week off on the right foot.

Silly me.

It’s only after they were dreaming of sugar plums that I realized we are out of bread for school lunches tomorrow (this is why I have to write things down as they come to me. Not on the list = not in the pantry).

It’s only after they were cuddled up with crazy bed head that I noticed the dirty clothes in their hampers (I was feeling accomplished after finishing it all today… good feeling gone).

It’s only after they were blowing their little snoring horns that I found that no one emptied their lunch boxes on Friday so the cheese is more colorful and aromatic than one would hope (I’m seeing Chick-fil-A in their future).

It’s only after the little angels went to sleep that I realized I’m going to need a mulligan on Monday.

#MulliganMonday

#MissingAPartnerInCrime

#WeekendWentToQuickly

#ParentFailEqualsKidTreat

#ThanksChickFilA