Fall Football - Go Cowboys

Actually, I am not a huge Cowboys fan. I like the Steelers. But Shannon and I made a deal before the kids were born that he could put them in Cowboys gear as long as we got to wear Baylor University stuff and no UT.

And they do look pretty cute in the dark blue, silver and stars.

Colin insisted the he needed to be on the back of the couch, and he fell.

Claire and Adam thought it was hilarious.

We'll see if she can work her magic.

Embracing Dirty Faces and Loud Voices

I embrace who I am. That doesn't mean that I am sometimes embarrassed, over worked, feel under appreciated or that I am 100 percent content, 100 percent of the time. My flaws are glaringly obvious to me which is why I rarely seek "constructive" criticism... For often it just leads to malicious criticism or the reminder that what I wish I could change is still completely obvious to others. I'm honest, but not so honest that what I say will invite judgement or make that flaw "real." I am cautious about actually opening up.

What I do at home is far more important than what I do at work, especially because I'm at home less. And especially because I give the best of myself during the morning and bright-eyed hours of work, and then come home exhausted and stressed, where they need me the best there more than anywhere else.

There is a rampage of smartphone aggressiveness towards mothers who take a break to play Candy Crush or play on Facebook while their children take a healthy break to play solo, which, by the way, is actually vital to a child's development. (Not Candy Crush, solo play.) I'm so driven to give my everything, always, to my children that my three year old has little desire or ability to play with toys by himself. For ten minutes. Some of that is him... Some of that is the pressure I've put on myself to constantly be by his (and his brother's and sister's) side every second that I'm not working.

Perhaps that is not wrong... But when I reach my break down point, I hardly know it myself. I shower daily, 50% of the time I have a little make up on (the other 50% I have no make up). I brush my wet hair in the car on the way to daycare while I talk to them about how much I love them and how proud of them I am. I guiltily buy little trinkets at the grocery store knowing that it will not buy my love but that it somehow demonstrates that they got a solo trip with mommy AND got to pick out something "just for them." And in the end, they don't give two shits about the trinket. Sometimes, they don't even want to be at the grocery store on a solo trip and want to know where the hell their siblings were.

And then I wonder, later, why I couldn't take a ten minute bath with a glass of wine and some sour patch kids all by myself without someone busting in and saying, "I want to take a bath too!" ... Then pulling all their clothes off and jumping in.

And then I realize the disconnect - my priorities are screwed up. Not enough to ruin anyone's lives... Not enough to be detrimental, but enough to where I see my three year old roll his eyes and say "gah!" just like me, when asked to do something he actually likes doing, like empty the dishwasher. Or when I see my 15 month old boy show his dimples and almost blush when I make eye contact and tackle him with tickles... Just for him. Or when I finally notice that my 15 month old girl is pointing to everything in the room just because she wants to hear my voice telling her what all of those things are called... And then buries her head in my shoulder for the rare but meaningful hug that means she adores me, wants ME. Not my time, not my trips, not my "I love yous," but ME, ignoring the chores. Ignoring the structure. Focusing only on her for half a second.

I'm missing it all by trying to do it all. I work because I do. There should not be any need for an excuse. It teaches them so much to have a working mother and father, and they love to go to "school" everyday. But what I'm not doing is enjoying them. And I don't mean that I am supposed to enjoy every tantrum. I don't suggest that every doctor's appointment with three extremely sick kids is supposed to bring me joy, or that I'm a terrible parent for having a schedule and asking them to try their hardest to understand that.

What I am missing is the ability to look into their eyes, for five seconds, twenty seconds, even a whole damn minute, and give them everything. To connect with them on a childlike level and for an instant forget that I had an agenda, a timeline, a stressful day that I should let go of, and laugh with them. For just one second, I need to give up and give in, because those are the best seconds.

I know that I avoid doing this because I fear that's where I'll want to stay, and I'll want to give up the rest of it and live there in that moment.

Then someone pukes. The alarm goes off while I'm snuggling a sweet, quiet child in the morning hours. Someone hits someone else on accident or on purpose and then I'm supposed to go back to mom-busy mode and teach them to be human beings. And then I'm more exhausted than ever, because I got a taste of what it was like to get lost in their eyes.

No one said parenthood was easy. I'll still embrace my smartphone for brief moments of almost solitude. I'll still gather myself on the ride to daycare every morning with wet-haired pony tails and a little mascara. I'll yell, then know that I'm not supposed to yell. I'll apologize, I'll hug, I'll separate fights and I'll beat myself up for having a moment of "me time" when I could be crafting some incredible activity for them on the weekend... and then instead spend it vacuuming and washing dishes because I'm not a Pinterest-Martha Stewart-Super Woman.

And somehow in all of that I'll still write, photograph, career, exercise (sometimes), house keep, brag about my kids on social media, and MOM, hoping that they get enough "laugh, my mom ADORES me" moments that I won't end up worst mother in the world.

And if I pick up my cell phone every now and then, or decide not to make a lunch that is in an absolutely adorable and impossible superhero theme, or hell, even make some damn sugar cookies that have only bananas and no sugar in them (myth, by the way, and sugar won't kill them every now and then) or choose family night instead of a date night with my husband and miss the mark on being the most incredible wife on the face of the planet, I'm going to try not to beat myself up over that. And if my kids crawl into bed with us because of nightmares every now and then, they are welcome to seek comfort with those who love them. I don't have the time to read books on that particular subject.

You can only do exactly what you can do. And most of us (parent or not) are kicking our own asses without the extra pressure or "constructive criticism."

What I will do is to be the person who can certainly laugh while washing the dishes instead bossing someone around while they play cars under my feet with a dirty face and a loud voice. I will teach them that I screw up too, and can admit it and improve. I will teach my children how to do chores happily, because that's just what we have to do, and I won't teach my kids to "be nice," because they are supposed to, but to be kind... because when you aren't, you need to look into the crying face of someone you hurt and know that that should make you feel pretty bad too.

I am not a perfect mom. I don't embrace that. But I can forgive myself and easily do better because its worth it, not because someone else had standards I didn't meet.

My Landscapers

 (Yes, he's mowing post-bath in his jammies. What?)

He wasn't done mowing.

Oh, the despair... he doesn't realize Shannon is coming back with the leaf blower.

Holy Crap Dad has a leaf blower.