Edge Staff Mom (42)
I remember thinking how difficult it was to meet new friends after graduating from college. When I first moved to the state from “away,” I basically knew my husband and his family. That was pretty awesome, because they’re great people, but it didn’t take me long to realize I kind of missed knowing people outside of work.
There’s only so much griping about the job that one can stand before it gets old. It was three years before I met one of my very best friends, which brings me to my point: it was that hard before I had kids.
Anyone who has had kids knows you are basically trading in late mornings for the proper care and raising of the future of humanity. It’s not a bad trade-off in the long run, but it may seem like a steep price, especially at 6 a.m. on a Saturday after you stayed up a little too late watching “The Hobbit” the night before (yes, I’m still catching up on movies that debuted in 2012).
This is an open letter to mother nature: I need you to listen to me, because I will only rail against you futiley this one time (right) – stop snowing. I mean it.
That snow storm you gave us in the middle of March was one thing. We could use the sleds in that, and it was good snowman material. This “wintery mix” crap that you’re throwing at us in the middle of April is really pushing it. Cold and wet enough to make going outside a nasty challenge, but not quite nifty enough to make it fun. Even the robins I’ve seen look pissed off. What’s a girl got to do to get some 50 degree weather?
Having young kids during the holiday season is like getting to play a dry-run of a complicated obstacle course, where nothing is counted against you. You are allowed to see the layout of the field, be it how to get the Christmas Tree, how far in advance should I buy decorations, how many decorations do I actually need, and are costumes going to be involved? Then you celebrate the holiday and the kids barely notice, because they’re too young to give a hoot.
This is one of those
Impromptu trips can be tricky for anyone. They are almost impossible with triplets, but not entirely. We had one a couple weeks ago. My mom-in-law was making a business trip up to Millinocket to drop off some of her beautifully crafted hand-made wooden hearts. The kiddos’ great grandmother also lives in Millinocket, so she had called to see if perhaps she could steal one or two for a visit.
I figured, what the heck, let’s bring the whole gang and have a party (it’s always a baby party wherever we go). So the next morning, we pack them into the SUV, make a stop at a gas station to pick up some Dunkin Donuts, and I decide to gas up. It is a beautiful, sunny morning.
This week’s Edge Staff Mom article has been delayed since we learned that the triplets have overthrown their parents and are holding them hostage until their demands are met. Negotiators are trying to communicate with the children, and have not been able to make contact with our writers.
“We can hear what seems to be intermittent laughing, followed by crying. We aren’t sure if that is the parents or the children at this point,” said a source who declined to be named since the investigation is ongoing and he hasn’t been cleared to release information.
Life is filled with choices. Everyone makes them every day, some more profound than others. It seems most of the choices I get to make these days are rather mundane but still make a profound impact on day to day life.
The choice between sleeping an extra 20 minutes and showering. The choice between feeding the cats and going to the bathroom (sorry, kitties). Picking up all the toys (again) or going to bed. Getting some work done during naps or making dinner while the kids can’t try to climb into the hot oven. You know, choices.
Ah, daylight savings time. A time when there is just more light to be had, because we can drive home with the sun over our heads instead of sinking into the horizon. Those driving west don’t have to squint quite so hard when they drive home at the end of the night, and those driving east don’t get to be quite as smug with the sun behind them.
I don’t know exactly when I became Suzi Homemaker, but I think it was when the kids started eating something that resembles human-sized portions of food. See, when they first started eating, a portion for them was the size of an ice cube (A good-sized one, not one of those tiny ones you get at fast food restaurants). I would puree their veggies or means and pop them out as needed. And if you consider that one decent sweet potato is enough to nearly fill a tray, making dinner for the week was pretty easy.
We pick up a lot. It’s a never-ending cycle of picking up. Pick up babies, pick up toys, pick up dishes, pick up more toys.
I have a former roommate from college who will confirm that I was never a neat freak (you can stop laughing, Angie, seriously). But I won’t bore you with how reformed I am, though I do pick up quite often now. No, I’ve come to realize that I’m kind of weird when I’m picking up the kids toys. I can’t just put them all in a box. Well, I can, eventually. But I have a tendency to want to solve all of the puzzles, put all the colorful cups in descending order and stack the rings properly.
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