Happy Mother's Day

Date Night

Date night is detrimental to my health. Without it, I become one frantic momma on the edge. I took date night for granted before my children were born, but now, it's a crucial tool my husband uses to maintain my sanity.

A typical date night is the usual, dinner and a movie. 

Dinner, because it's important I eat a meal once in awhile, free of hovering children waiting for the opportunity to put their fingers in my food.  Why do they have to touch my food?  I haven't the slightest clue.  They don't put their little fingers in my husband's food...ever.  

A movie, because it's a luxury to sit and watch anything from start to finish without explaining what's happening, travel five times to the bathroom, or listen to Rio give us his play by play narration.

"Don't you feel guilty..." people ask,  "leaving your children so you can go out?"

My answer is always the same...HELL NO!

Birthdays

Birthdays are a big deal!  I've been told, I tend to go a bit overboard.

I tell myself every year, "This is it.  Next year I'm only serving cake and ice cream."  But then I get an idea and I just can't help myself.

It doesn't take much to tickle my party bone, whether it's a treasure map invitation, a lady bug cake, a carnival game, or the opportunity to rent a dunk tank. All it takes is one idea to spread like wild fire.

Themed parties are my forte.  I'm not referring to the store bought prepackaged themes.  Those themes are for amateurs.  I'm a professional do-it yourselfer. My parties involve buckets of paint, props, and tricking random family members into volunteering their services. 

"Mom, what kind of party am I having this year?"  Rio asked the day after Amaya's birthday.

"Let me think about it..."  I told him.

Later that night Rio sat in astonishment as we attended a Medieval Times dinner show.  The five dollar flags we purchased as souvenirs weren't enough.

"Mom the small wooden sword is only twenty dollars," Rio pleaded.

"Only...twenty dollars? I can make you that sword for one dollar," I stated the obvious.

His face dropped, he was clearly disappointed. The swords were super cool, I couldn't blame him.

"How about I make them for your party," I proposed. "Then everyone who comes can get one."

"Okay!  But I'm the King!"  Rio declared.

This will be the last party, I swear! ?

Amaya

 Amaya's a girl who's thinks three meals ahead. Before breakfast, she's requesting dinner. At dinner, she's planning  lunch. At lunch, she's worried about breakfast. And snacks... snacks can cause a real migraine.

"Mom, what meat do we have in the freezer?" It's a question asked every morning while picking through her cereal.

"Why Amaya?" Is the common response, but I already know where the conversation is headed.

"I was thinking...maybe we can have spaghetti tonight?" Her most common request.

"Can we finish one meal before we plan the next?" I usually plead with frustration.

Amaya will nod her head, but the worried look on her face always says different.

"Have I ever forgot to feed you?" I try to remind her she's never gone without a meal.

For an incredibly picky child, she sure is worried that she won't get to eat. If it were up to her she would live on spaghetti, tuna, and avocados.

After breakfast, like clockwork, Rio will find me.

"Can we have spaghetti tonight?" Rio asks.

I roll my eyes and sigh. "You hate spaghetti. Remember?"

"Oh...well, Amaya told me to ask," he'll confess.

"Amaya!" I yell through the house. "Quit sending Rio to do your dirty work!"

♥ Valentine's not Valentime's ♥



It's that time of year, again.  Valentine's Day, not Valentime's Day, VALENTINE'S.  I know, it's a subtle difference, but there is a difference.

"Mom, I need my Valentime's by tomorrow!"  Amaya stated with urgency.  "My teacher said!"

"It's V-a-l-e-n-t-i-n-e,"  I corrected her.

"Okay, V-a-l-e-n-t-i-n-e..." she mocked me.  "I still need them."

At the store we stood in front of the impressive boxed card display and making a decision was impossible.  Amaya thought they were all so cute and wanted to buy her top three picks.  Obviously the answer was no. 

Rio quietly stared up at the shelves.  His eyes big with want.

"Which ones do you like?"  I asked him.  Not prepared for his answer.

"Um...I thinking...I want to get all of the girls...a bear, or a dog, or a frog, or something,"  he said.

"Well, how many girls are in your class?"  I asked.

"I don't know?" he answered. "A lot!"

"What?  He's in second grade!"  I said, leaning into my husband. 

"You know what...I was the same way."  My husband laughed into my ear.  He was proud of his little Casanova.

It was amusing.  But there are close to fifteen girls in his class.  The bears are five dollars each.  All I could see were dollar signs. 

So I had to break out my best negotiating skills, and I was able to persuade him with some pretty fantastic Sponge Bob Valentine's that came with lolly-pops.

"Can we do our Valentime's when we get home?" Amaya asked, as were leaving the store.

"It's V-a-l-e-n-t-i-n-e!  Gees, Amaya!"  Rio corrected her.

    

                                                           

Back to Normal

Everything is back to normal.  That is, if normal includes piles of laundry, a sink full of dishes, and playing referee to the game of  "he touched me...no, she touched me first."

Rio started the morning doing flips on his bed, kicking a soccer ball through the house, and terrorizing his sister.

Amaya took her sweet time eating her Cheerios...a solid 30 minutes.  Then decided she should kick her brother.

Surprisingly, we left for school on time and everything was peaceful in the car.  Until it wasn't.

"He's on my side!"  Amaya yelled.

"Stop pushing me!"  Rio yelled back.

"Really!"  I yelled at them through the rear view mirror.  "We're ten feet from the drop off, and you want to start this now?"

They got out of the car as I reminded them to have a nice day.

My day went by so quick without them.  Too quick.  I enjoyed the peace and quiet so much I forgot to pick them up from school.

That will teach them to fight in the car.
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Sick and Tired

February started just as pleasantly as January.  I'm being punished for skipping the flu shot. 

Today I woke up feeling better but exhausted.  The cough that has moved in is keeping me up all night so during the day all I want to do is sleep. 

Sleeping causes other problems.  I wake up to a puddle of wetness on my pillow and my sleeve with my hair plastered to the side of my face.  Even in sleep I'm aware of the torturous sore throat I have.  The drooling is completely involuntary.

It's Monday.  So imagine my excitement of sending the kids off to school.  First I drag Amaya out of bed by her ankles.

"Get up!"  I yell.  "You're going to be late."  This is due to me hitting  the snooze button repeatedly.

I go into Rio's room.  I try to shake him conscious.  He's burning up.

"Mom, my throat hurts,"  he complains.

I grab a flashlight to inspect his tonsils.  After all I am a throat expert.

"Uh-oh..."  I say.  "Looks like you're staying home." 

Then I remember.  What about my sleep?  I'm devastated. 

"You know if you stay home today, you're staying in bed?" 

"I know." 

"No video games, TV, or playing outside."

He was fine with that. So we slept all day.

The only thing worse than waking up on my own saturated pillowcase, is rolling over into his.  

♥

It's All About Balance

I proudly wear the titles wife and mother.  Still, I'd prefer to have the titles ruler and dictator.

I don't mind the cleaning, the laundry, the dishes, the mopping, the vacuuming, or the cooking.  I don't mind the carpooling, the scheduling, the budgeting, or the organizing.

Okay, I mind a little.  It's my job not my passion, and if I want these things done right, I have to do them. 

But it never fails, in the middle of my cleaning escapades, to look over and find my husband sitting on the couch.  Just sitting there, not doing anything.  It makes my blood boil.

I try making extra noise in the kitchen, I try turning on the vacuum behind him, I try dusting the television he can't pry his eyes off of.  All my subtle attempts fail to draw his attention.  Finally I can't stand it any longer.

"Are you just going to sit there?"  It's a demand more than a question.

He's oblivious to his three pairs of shoes scattered in the middle of the floor, the knocked over sunflower seed bowl spilling down the cushions, or the fact that he has tracked taping mud through the entire house.  I just finished sweeping!

I start thinking, "Men have it so easy!  I wish I were that blind."

Then I remember, that's why he has me in his life...to make his life harder. 

It's all about balance.
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