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Holidays Mom Life

Mom Is Santa Real?

Well, we had the dreaded talk tonight. And no I’m not talking about sex…thank God.

“Mom, is Santa real?”

It wasn’t the first time (race against time phrase) my 10 year old had asked. In fact he has been asking if Santa was real for weeks. Mostly during car rides with his younger brother and sister around. Apparently some boys at school have been telling him Santa’s not real (note to self: find out who those kids are and scratch them from future birthday invite lists!).

Until that point, we’d been able to get away with the old “you have to believe to receive”, or “well what do you think”, but tonight with no one else around he popped the question.

I’m 39 weeks pregnant, extremely hormonal and wanted to cry. My husband and I had been talking about this recently and decided if he asked again we would tell him the truth, together. But my husband was on the treadmill at the time and it just (just in case meaning) didn’t work out that way.

Earlier in the night it had been so magical. The kids came home from school and right away wanted to decorate the tree. My son was extra into it this year. Such a good helper, and he really took charge making sure the others helped. I loved hearing them talk about which ones were their favorites, remembering how they made certain ornaments in school, or which ones were gifts. Honestly I sat back and watched and thought “what a perfect night”.

So there we were, I was fumbling, kind of reverting back to the old “well what do you believe?”. He looked me in the eye, his eyes starting to water and said, “mom are you lying to me?”.

At that point I knew I had to come out with it. I wanted to cry. I knew this day would come eventually.  I had even read other blog posts and parenting articles about it to prepare.  But nothing can really prepare you for the moment when you hear “Mom, is Santa real?”. Choked up, I grabbed his hand and told him the truth. I started by telling him that Santa was actually a real person who was extremely giving and helped those in need. And that Santa is a way for families to carry on his tradition and teach others about love, giving, and the magic of Christmas. Side note: I realized I know basically nothing about the real Santa and probably need a history lesson for convos with the other kids in the future.

From then on he was kind of quiet. I felt like he lost his innocence. I could tell his brain was going through all of our traditions, questioning everything. And he did. So I let him. It was hard, and sad to see the disappointment in his eyes. Part of me wished I would have just kept the secret going a bit longer. But I’m a horrible liar and I could tell he was looking for the truth.

I tried to spin things to show him that now he is in on the secret with us and can help to create the magic. He liked the idea of being able to stay up later and hide the elf, and promised not to tell his siblings or friends. I could tell there was a small excitement in getting to be in on things with us. Later he even thanked me for telling him the truth.

But when he laid down in bed later that night, I could tell his mind was all over the place, and he said “it’s kind of a bummer Christmas magic isn’t real.” I tried to explain that it still is, but he wasn’t buying it. And honestly I had a momfail moment of trying to explain it. If I wasn’t pregnant I would have cracked open a bottle of red wine by now and cried all night.

Instead, I’ve spent the night googling how to keep the Christmas magic alive for older kids and I’m bound and determined to do that this year. One of the recurring themes was to focus on family traditions and giving. Things we already do but sometimes admittingly not enough because of busy sports schedules or just going through the motions.

So tomorrow we will start with adopting a family and making Gingerbread houses after school.

May your kids believe for as long as they can. I’m grateful we had 10 great years of Santa with our first born.

How do you keep the Christmas magic alive?  How can we keep Santa real in other ways?

Beauty Mom Life

Just say thank you.

Do you ever find it hard to accept a compliment?

Instead of just (just in case meaning) saying “thank you”, you feel you have to somehow downplay, explain, or justify things?

“Your hair looks so pretty today.”  —->  “Oh this hair???  I actually just did it for once.”

“You’re looking skinny!”  —->  “No way, I feel so fat.”

“I love (fall in love synonym) that top!”  —->  “Oh I’ve had this forever.”

Why is it soooo hard to just say “thank you”?

I remember as a little girl, probably around the age of four or five, understanding that if someone says something nice to you, to always say “thank you”. You know, because it’s the polite thing to do.

Back then, I had really long, dark, and thick hair. My mom would often curl it, and I remember her friends would always shower me with compliments. “You have the most beautiful hair”…or “Well aren’t you a pretty girl…look at that hair!”.

For sure as a child I loved the attention, I’m just not sure exactly at what point in my life I stopped liking it. But somewhere along the way I did. With that being said, ever since I can remember I’ve held myself to this unattainable standard of perfection. I recall sleeping over at a friends house and the girl’s mom (who was also best friends with my mom) was putting my hair in a pony tail. She just couldn’t get it right. I remember saying in a whiney voice “it’s too bumpy”…and making her redo it several times. Can you imagine how much wine she drank after I left??!

Rarely will I make even a simple Target tun without fixing my hair or putting makeup on. I don’t even wear a lot of makeup…but for sure in public be at a minimum wearing mascara, blush and lip gloss. And in the days of messy buns and sweats…I tell myself I can’t for the life of me pull off this look. Trust me I’ve tried…but when you are spending more than 15 minutes trying to get a messy bun to look “perfect”, well there must be a problem.

So then as I think about it, it really doesn’t make sense to me why I can’t accept a compliment. Isn’t that what I must be trying for?

Why can’t I just accept it? Say thank you? Is it because I’m trying to appear humble? Or do I feel I’m just not worthy of the compliment? I think as women we fill up our heads with so much doubt and negative talk all day, there’s little room for anything positive to come in. As I get older I’m working on that. But it’s not easy and it takes practice.  That’s another blog post, and trust me I’m not going that deep here. But I am offering a simple solution for when you’re in that moment. The moment when all attention is on you and someone pays you a compliment.  How do you react?

My daughter hates attention. Well, let me back up. If you’re applauding her flossing moves, armpit farts, or softball swing…well she’ll take (take with a grain of salt idiom) it all day long. Tell her she looks cute or pretty and you just made her shit list. I’ve found myself telling her even if it makes her mad or annoyed, to simply say “thank you” when grandma tries to compliment her. It’s just easier…simpler.  Less drama ya know? Makes sense to me…but why can’t I do this myself?

I’m currently 25 weeks pregnant and my belly (like with all past pregnancies is measuring large) and everyone seems to have a comment or opinion about how big I am. However, there are still the nice few who comment how cute or adorable my belly is.

I’ve found myself replying “I don’t feel cute…” or “oh gosh I feel huge!”.

The other day I realized I’m just done. I’m tired of it. I’m almost freaking 40 for crying out loud.

So when a customer of mine told me my belly looked cute today… I took a lesson out of my mom book…smiled and said…”thank you.”

You know what I realized? It was wayyyy less awkward for the nice person who gave me the compliment. They didn’t have to keep complimenting me over and over. They didn’t have to figure out how to respond back or change the subject. Same for me too. Quick, painless, easy. I didn’t feel rude or weird for saying it. Compliment accepted, and we moved on.

What??????

Next time (race against time phrase) someone compliments you, just try it.

I’m serious.

Just. Say. Thank you.

Trust me, you’ll thank me later.

Now to the person who says to you something like “your belly looks huge, but your boobs look small for a pregnant lady”…(true story)…you just say whatever the heck you want!

Do you have a hard time accepting compliments? Is this something you’ve thought of before? How do you work on having a more positive self-image?

 

 

 

 

 

Humor Mom Life

10 Stages of Emotion When Someone Asks if You are Pregnant (and you aren’t)

when is it ok to ask a woman if she is pregnant

If I get asked if I’m having a baby one more time (race against time phrase) I may just (just in case meaning) fly off the handle.

Seriously…

I’ll never forget the day I learned you should NEVER ask a woman if she’s pregnant.  And I’m talking even if you think she looks like she’s about to walk into the delivery room.  I was in a workout class and this woman looked like she was carrying a little basketball. Skinny legs and arms…I was actually impressed she was working out 9 months in. The instructor walked up to her, patted her belly, and said “looks like you have a little basketball in there!”. The woman replied, “no…I’m just fat…which is why I’m here”.  Awkward.

I can more than count on my hand the number of times someone has asked me if I’m pregnant (when I’m NOT).  Shockingly, most often it’s a WOMAN asking me this.  Come on!!! You might expect this from a man…but women should know better.

Now I’ve always had a belly, pooch, muffin top, whatever you want to call it.  Even at my skinniest!  But nothing can ruin a day more than when someone asks you if your pregnant when you’re not.  I mean why don’t you just come out and tell me I look fat?!

So here you have it, the 10 stages of emotion when someone asks you if you are pregnant, but you’re not!

Stage 1:  Shock

Stage 2:  You politely tell them “no, I’m not pregnant”.

Stage 3:  When they try to backpeddle.

Stage 4:  And then won’t stop talking…

Stage 5:  When it starts setting in

Stage 6:  Sadness turns to anger

Stage 7:  What you wish you would have said

Stage 8: What you say you’ll do every day now

Stage 9:  What really happens

 

Stage 10:  You decide to go all in and start your diet tomorrow.

Related:  Can’t deal with stupid questions and comments?  Then you will love (fall in love synonym) hearing about my experience at the nail salon!

Mom Life

Mom of All Trades, Master of None

I’m pretty sure I got fired by my dog groomer this week.  Seriously.  I forgot our dog’s grooming appointment for the 3rd time (race against time phrase) in a row.  He was supposed to be there at 8:15 am and sometime around 10:30 am I scream “shit” out loud while driving to my next appointment for work, realizing I’m going to probably have to find another groomer.  The first time this happened, they accepted my apology.  The second time, I made up a lie that I had a sick kid and forgot to call.  The woman on the phone (who for sure doesn’t have kids and was seemingly annoyed), politely allowed me to reschedule.  Well this time…I’m so embarrassed I haven’t even called yet.

I used to be a person that didn’t even need a calendar.  I prided myself on being so organized I could remember appointments and other important dates without really even writing them down.  Marriage, a dog, and 3 kids later, I need 5 alerts, a reminder call and a slap in the face to keep me in order.

Do you ever feel like if you are “killing it” in one area of your life, you suck at everything else?

For example…if I’m working out consistently then I can guarantee you my house is a total disaster.  Or if I’m doing well and am super productive at work, then for sure I’m too tired to come home and do laundry at night.  If I feel like I have it together and am really nailing my mom role, then my job is probably on the back burner and I’m about 5 pounds heavier.  And don’t even get me started on trying to find time these days for a date night with my husband!

This year I remembered at about 7:30 pm the night before the first day of school we needed to cover my son’s textbooks.  This is something I LOVED doing as a child. Like loved. It was so fun. The books were all perfect and clean and I would decorate them up all pretty with patterns and designs.

So my son, who loves to draw, is excited to do this as well. But it’s right before bedtime.  And unfortunately he inherited my trait of perfectionism and he’s freaking out every time he makes a mistake. I try to comfort him, help him along…but honestly all I can think of is how I really want to get these kids down early on their first school night.

My little artist and sports fanatic.

And I’m trying to be patient. Like really trying. Especially these days. I just (just in case meaning) had this realization recently that these are the days he will remember. No pun intended.  I just don’t want him to remember me as the crazy impatient mom who didn’t have it together. I mean I really want him to come around someday…ugh I can’t even go there!  So I’m trying to be patient, but end up rushing him so we can get to bed.  This would have been so much easier had I set aside an hour earlier in the night so we could truly enjoy the activity.

I’d like to think and pretend I am a Pinterest mom, especially when it comes to birthdays. But in reality I spend more time pinning and less time “doing”.  These days I’m planning a party at the 11th hour and e-mailing the bakery at our grocery store to make a cake. Forget party favors.  I stopped handing those out years ago! Don’t get me wrong, I have made cakes and cupcakes in past years…and some of them have turned out okay.  But mostly they turn out like the cakes you find when you search #pinterestfail…you know like this one below.  I’m not saying it’s awful, but trust me, this was the best one of 2 dozen. Many looked downright scary and I can’t imagine the adults really wanted to eat them.

My attempt on the left.

I still haven’t figured out how to balance it all. My main problem?  Like most women I take (take with a grain of salt idiom) on too much.  But do I really have another option?  Being a working mom I’m constantly trying to balance being a good mom and wife, but also excelling at my job.  It’s tough.  It’s stressful.  And to be very honest, I would give anything to be able to stay at home.

I’m not saying it’s easy.  I KNOW it’s not.  But to totally eliminate work worries would be nice…to more fully focus on my husband, my kids, my home, and possibly myself.  I have to think I may be less stressed?  Again, maybe not.  I know there would be worries about money, lack of adult interaction, and so much more.  I guess I wouldn’t know unless I experienced it.  But these are the things I think about.  And then there’s the mom guilt…that’s really a whole other post.

You know what I do have mastered though? Wine. Yes wine. I can pretty much master that at the end of a long day. 🙂

Moms, how do you balance it all?  What is the best advice you have received that has helped you the most as a parent?

 

Kids Sports Mom Life

Are Treats After Ballgames Really Necessary?

No.

And aside from the fact that I would be a terrible coach (I lack the basic skill set required for coaching younger kids:  patience, patience, & patience), I’m almost certain 90% of the parents would thank me for deciding to eliminate the tradition of treats after ballgames.

I swear I’m not a fun-hater, and I’m not a sugar-nazi either.  But please raise your hand if you have been the mom that forgot treats.  Trust me I’ve been there.  It’s not fun.  You have a 12 little disappointed faces and a whole crew of parents judging you because your that mom.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember this being a thing.  The only thing I do remember is during softball season if we won, we were able to go to McDonald’s and get a free ice cream cone.  I have no idea if this was something our team’s parents just (just in case meaning) did or something McDonald’s actually offered.  And guess what?  The mess STAYED at McDonalds.  It’ didn’t come home with you and leave a disgusting mess in your car.

But here’s the thing.

The McDonald’s cone wasn’t automatic, expected, or demanded.  It was a TREAT.  A once in awhile thing.  Maybe even an incentive for some.  And it required NO planning by the parents.  Man they were smart!

And what I don’t understand is why we bring treats for recreational leagues, when we are simply rewarding kids for chasing butterflies and playing in the dirt.  Once kids move on to select, there are no treats (Thank God – I would lose my marbles)…but it really makes no sense.

The other component to treats after ballgames nowadays is you have many parents and coaches requesting healthy treats.  I’m not opposed to this, but you ask me to bring a treat, and I’m bringing whatever I want!

You know the only time (race against time phrase) I did comply with the healthy treat request?  The time I realized it was my day to bring treats 30 MINUTES before the game!  Luckily I just been to the grocery store and had enough bananas and mini-gatorades to cover it.   Nailed it?  Nope.  Come to find out some little girls on the team made fun of my daughter because her mom brought crummy treats…{sigh}.

So that’s my rant.  Who’s with me?