You might be a parent if....

After a couple of days of frantic cleaning and laundry and some schedule adjusting that isn't going so well, I had a new post strike my brain. You might be a parent if any of these things have happened to you.

You might be a parent if when walking through your house you realize that should the toys ever come alive you are outnumbered by hundreds.

You might be a parent if you have uttered (read yelled/shouted/freaked out with) the words "Don't do that!" at least fifty times in one day.

You might be a parent if you have had an internal debate on whether or not anyone will notice that you are wearing the same yoga pants from two days ago.

You might be a parent if you can identify the smell of rotten milk coming from under a seat in your minivan before anyone else. (Now, I should mention that credit of this discovery goes to Husband, where as both myself AND my super nosed sister in law could not find the source of the rank smell.)

You might be a parent if your first fight of the day with your child is over the clothes she wore yesterday, and whether or not she can wear them again today.

You might be a parent if you wore sweatpants to Walmart at 11:30 p.m. upon discovering that there was no cereal for breakfast in the morning.

You might be a parent if you get more excited about a new Disney movie than your child, because you know it can used as bribery in the future.

You might be a parent if 8p.m. feels late.

You might be a parent if you get excited because Husband tells you he washed a couple of pairs of your sweatpants so you'd have clean clothes for the next two weeks.

You might be a parent if you know the theme song to one of the following: Phineas and Ferb, Bob the Builder, SuperWhy, Go, Diego, Go!, or Little Einsteins.

You might be a parent if you have ever woken up to a foot in your face.

You might be a parent if you were completely comfortable laying a towel down on the bed after the third spit up incident in the middle of the night.

You might be a parent if you have held a lengthy conversation about poop with another adult. 

You might be a parent if you say you have to go potty instead of go to the bathroom. At work. To your co-workers.

You might be a parent if you have blindly swatted at the backseat not caring which child you made contact with.

You might be a parent if you understand nonsense gibberish and made up words without having to think about what your child just said.

You might be a parent if you have had macaroni and cheese with hot dogs more than twice in one week. 

You might be a parent if you have had macaroni and cheese with hot dogs more than twice in one DAY.

You might be a parent if philosophical conversations are about where Max and Ruby's parents are, and why Calliou is such a whiny little shit.

You might be a parent if you know who Max and Ruby and Calliou are.

You might be a parent if you are no longer afraid at the mystery food in the bottom of the sink.

You might be a parent if said mystery food gets scooped out by hand.

You might be a parent if you hear a crying baby when no one else does. From across the house. And down the stairs. 

You might be a parent if  every single funny parenting meme has happened to you or applies to you in some way.

You might be a parent if your main source of entertainment is those parenting memes because you don't really have time to sit down and entertain yourself any other way.

You might be a parent if you have had one or some or all of this list happen to you at least once. 

Have a great day friends, and remember You Are Not Alone :D

In the blink of an eye.

Well friends, it has happened. As of today, I am a mother to a school aged child. It happened out of nowhere, like a quick jab to the gut that you know is coming but you still aren't prepared for. Five years ago it was hard for me to even imagine being a mother, let alone a mother to a child in SCHOOL. It is an intense feeling that kind of makes me want to freeze the clocks and just step back to take a deep breath. 

The other day I was sitting outside with Husband just watching the kids play and Monster S was swinging a little too high for Monster Mama's comfort. By a little too high I mean that I actually turned to Husband and said "What do you think? I think we're about to have our first broken bone if she adjusts herself even a little bit on that seat.". It was a panic inducing moment that made me want to run (and by run walk quickly because running still makes me winded) and snatch her off the swing and pull her to safety. But the reality of it was, SHE was comfortable with her ability to keep swinging, and I was just hovering. Ok, maybe I wasn't hovering persay, because I was sitting a ways away in a lawn chair. But I WAS panicking. For no reason. Monster S was soaring and shouting out to me, "Look Mommy I'm flying in the sky!" and I was too busy focusing on what could happen than on what was happening. My five year old was swinging 

All. By. Herself. And she wasn't scared a bit. 

So here I am wondering where the hell the time went, and she is just roaring along completely confident and ready to go. And I have to let her, because how else will she ever feel secure in her abilities? It's a sad, almost heartbreaking moment to know that she doesn't need me as much as she used to. Although she has told me once or twice that she loves spending time with me and wants to stay home with me (little snot, pouring salt right on mommy's broken heart) but in all actuality, she is SO ready to be in school and I am ready for her to be there. I know she is going to blossom into a wonderful tiny human, learning all sorts of new things. But it is an adjustment to know that I won't be the one teaching her everything now. I have to trust someone else to mold her little mind into a mature, and responsible big girl. That is never easy friends. If you have kids, I'm sure you understand, and if you don't...well, let's just say it's like telling someone you're going to cut out your heart and trust them to keep it beating until you get back to pick it up. That's kind of what it feels like knowing someone else will be responsible for my little girl. 

But we'll be ok, because obviously parents and children everywhere do this every day.

In other news, Monster L and Monster D are growing like weeds as well, both becoming more independent as each day passes. Monster L is (I think) looking forward to some "one on one" time with Mama, because more often than not Monster S and MOnster D are always getting into something. My poor sweet middle child won't know quite what to do with herself when her big sister isn't here to play with, but luckily she likes playing with her baby brother. 

Monster L had her three year checkup the other day, and we've decided that it is time to do a speech therapy evaluation. Now that it has been officially determined that I'm pretty much one of the only ones who understands a single word that comes out of that crazy girl's mouth, well, here we are. Hopefully we'll have an appointment date soon, and hopefully it won't conflict with Monster D's appointment in September with an allergist. Because yes, we're officially to that point as well. Yep, you can go ahead and buy me a big bottle of wine for my birthday, friends, because I'm going to need it. 

It has been a fairly intense month around here. Between trying to keep up with friends and family, doctors appointments like crazy, the start of school activities, and Husband working himself to an early grave, I don't have much time leftover in my days. I've reached a point of social seclusion that I haven't experienced in over a year. I feel like a lot of my friendships with the women who have been my support for so long are suffering due to my inability to sit down for more than five minutes at a time to catch up with them. I'm pretty sure a lot of them are pissed at me for it. I am shocked that I have even progressed this far with this blog post, as every time I've sat down to write recently it has ended up being saved as a draft never to be touched again. I think I might even be losing weight just because I hardly even have time to eat properly these days. That's normal though right? Doesn't every mom experience the joy of sitting down to take a bite, only for that bite to be left uneaten on her plate because somebody needs juice/food/butt wiped/help down off the counter that they climbed on while mommy's back was turned? Maybe it's just me. Fingers crossed that when school is in full swing I might have a little bit of time to breathe. 

Now if only some of that busy ridiculous time could be spent folding and putting away my laundry I might not feel like such a crazy person. 

Ah well, such is the life a harried, frazzled, can't even wash my hair, stay at home mom. It's a crazy life these days. Here's to hoping that I can adjust, before someone has to haul me off to the loony bin.

On second thought, maybe there I'd at least get some quiet time.....