I Know That You Have Heard It All Before

But thanks, in advance, for listening anyway...

Dear Kindergarten Teacher,

I just saw the list.  My baby, my first born, the one that sparkles and shines like no other, is in your class.

I would tell you about how special she is.  How loving, caring, and kind she is.  How she will absolutely give her life for anyone she remotely considers a friend.  How her heart is always out there.  How tender she is.  But, you've heard it from every other parent before.  She's different, and she's not.  But, you'll see that tomorrow.  She's never met a stranger.

I love her.  If I had to pick the aspect of me that she embodies, it's my heart.  She has held it since before she drew breath on this Earth.  Before my arms ever held her, she held my heart.

I know that you've heard this before, but please, be gentle with my heart.  I'm trusting you with it.  It's hard.  But I know that in order for her to thrive, I must trust you.  I trust that you'll take such good care of her, that she won't be afraid.  You'll encourage her.  You'll push her to her limits, and tell her how much further she can go.

But please, be gentle.  She's so sweet.  I know you will.  This mommy's heart is excited and breaking all at the same time.  I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of her.  She can conjugate verbs in several different tenses, She can do addition through +12, She can recite facts about animals that will blow your mind.  And, she and her sister can do a mean rendition of the "Shimmer and Shine" theme song (it's really super-cute).  She loves to dance...wow!  Does she love to dance.

She is magic.

Every ounce of my being is going to trust you with my heart.  I know, you've heard it all before.  I've heard excellent things about you.  I have heard that you are amazing.  Thank you, in advance, for that.  Those are things that I need to hear.  You see, it's my first time.  I'll try not to cry tonight, tomorrow, or Monday.  I can't promise that I won't, but I will do my absolute best to hold myself together in front of her, and you.

I know how special Kindergarten teachers are.  I have know some absolutely amazing ones in my life.  I am excited to add you to that list.

Thank you for being a part of my baby's life.  Her education, her next step.

She's leaving behind some amazingly wonderful teachers from her old school.  They were the ones who taught me that it's ok to trust other people with my heart.  They love her and are just excited for her future as we are.  And, they are also the ones helping to reassure me that she's going to be just fine.

I'll drop her off with you on Monday morning.  I'll head to the library and use three or four boxes of Kleenex on my own.  I'll pull myself together, because I have to be brave for my Soul and Breath (her little sister and brother).  I need for them to trust you, too.  (They can be hard nuts to crack).

Anywho...thank you.  I know that you've heard it all before, but thanks for listening anyway.

Sincerely,
First time Kindergarten Mommy

Soooo, I got a ticket

And, I'm not even going to say that I didn't deserve it.  It happened after swimming lessons, and on the way home.  The kids started yelling in the car.  It was loud.  I started yelling back, not even paying attention to my speed.

Then, I saw him.  He waved me over.

From the backseat, I hear, "Mommy, why are you pulling over?"  "Mommy, what's going on?"  "Mommy, why are you talking to that man?"

I pulled over, and let the window down.  My hands in plain sight, because.....well, because.

I tried to put the van in park, and I couldn't get the danged gear shift to move.  Hindsight being 20/20, I was probably pushing the wrong button, you know, the one that let's you go into D4, instead of the release lever.

Here's how the stop went down:

Officer:  Hi, there.  Do you know how fast you were going?

Me:  No, sir, I don't.  The kids were yelling, and I was yelling back, so I wasn't paying attention to my speed.  (I put my hands up in the air over the steering wheel) I am currently trying to put my vehicle in park, and I can't get the lever to move.

Officer:  Did you just get your nails done?

Me:  No.  I am trying to keep my hands in plain sight, so that there's no question as to what I'm doing.  Would you like to try and put in park for me?

Officer:  How about you take your foot off of the brake and try again.

Me:  I do not want there to be any confusion as to what I am doing.

Officer:  OK.  You're Ok, ma'am.  Can I see your license?

Me:  *looks around towards the back seat, very slowly*  I cannot reach my purse.  It is on floor behind my son's carseat.  *motions with my head towards the opposite side of the car*

Officer:  Can you reach it?

Me:  No, I cannot.

Officer:  Would you like for me to get it for you.

Me:  Yes.

Officer:  OK.  Can you open the door for me?

Me:  Yes.  I am going to reach down with my left hand to unlock the door and push the button.

Officer:  OK.  How many in the car with you?

Me:  Three kids.

Officer:  *reaches in and gets my purse*  Here you go.  (He also said hi to the kids, who, oddly enough, decided to be quiet)

Me:  I am going to reach back and get it from you, then put it on the center console and get my wallet out.  Thank you.

Officer:  OK.  You know, it's ok.  It's not necessary for you to keep your hands up.

Me:  Yes, it is.  I don't want there to be any confusion as to what I'm doing.  *hands officer license*

Officer:  *scans license, scans window sticker, asks me to sign in the yellow box*

Me:  I am reaching down to sign.

Officer:  OK.

I sign, officer starts walking to his car.

Officer:  When was the last time you got a ticket?

Me:  *momentary blank stare as I'm trying to do mental math*  I am not trying to be non-responsive or disrespectful, I'm trying to do the math.  It was 2007, I believe.

Officer:  So, it's been a while?

Me:  Yes.

Officer:  Ok. *he verifies the street that I live on and hands back my license, and the ticket*  Here you go.  Be safe.

Me:  Ok, thank you.  May I drive off now?

Officer:  Yes, you can.  Have a good evening.

Me:  Thank you.  You, too.

See, when I got pulled over, I wasn't worried about what my hubby would say.  I wasn't worried about our car insurance going up.

I was worried about getting out of a traffic stop alive, and with my children.  You see, at any given moment, I could have been considered a threat to the officer.  In that moment, he could have felt justified in pulling me out of my car, tazing me, handcuffing me, shooting me...in front of my kids.  The children that I'm trying to teach to trust the police.

Why could I have been considered a threat?

Look at me.

Look.  At.  Me.

Just by the nature of my skin color, some people think that I am a threat.  A beast who is out of control.  Able to snap at any given second and go on a killing spree.  It's true.  And if you don't think so, there's nothing that I can tell you.  I live in this skin, and there have been many times when people have assumed the worst of me without ever getting to know me.  It happens.  And, I was afraid that this officer could have been one of those people.

Now listen, I am by no means saying that all officers are like that.  In fact, I believe that it's only a few, but they are the ones who get the press.  Same with Black people.  Not all of us are militant, anti-police, fear-mongering animals.  We just have to be careful with who we trust, and how much.  You see, I narrated my every move, kept my hands up in plain sight, and moved slowly, because I didn't want to give anyone a reason to make me the next trending hashtag.

I had considered recording/live streaming the traffic stop, but I didn't.  Know why?  I was afraid that the officer would assume that I was reaching for a weapon to use against him.

And, it's a damned shame.  I should not have to feel like that.  I should not have to be in survival mode, as opposed to "treat the officer with respect" mode.  But, I have learned that sometimes, even that isn't enough.

I called hubby at work.  He didn't answer, so I texted him.  He asked me how I was.  I rattled it off, and ended with, "I was afraid that I was going to get shot in front of our children."

Why?  Why does that have to be a fear for me?

I messaged my girlfriends.  There was the really funny joke about how did I not mess with the radar gun, and that's why I got a ticket (seriously, have you seen what I can do to electronics?!)  They asked if I was OK.  I was.

I told them my deepest fear about the stop.

Let me tell you how to kill a conversation.

But, it's not their fault.  They don't move in the world that I move in.  For them, getting stopped most likely means that they may (or may not) get a ticket, take defensive driving, and it's done.  It's not that likely that any of them will be seen as a threat...not like I would.  Not like I could.

And I hated to shove that reality in their faces...to push them so far out of their comfort zones.  It was so unfair of me, but I know these ladies...they truly could not care less about my skin color.  These ladies always assume the best of the people that they meet, until they have reason to believe otherwise.  I can say, with much certainty, that it hurts them that people can be mean and hateful to me just because.

What do they say to that?  What CAN they say to that?

I know that, had anything untoward happened, they would have been right there with my family, standing up for justice.  Thankfully, they don't have to.

My hope is that it opens up conversations with their friends and families about how jack-ass stupid racism is.  How prejudice can kill potentially beautiful relationships before they even have a chance to start.  How it kills trust before it's even born.  (Please do NOT tell me that racism doesn't exist.  Please don't.)

So, let me wrap up with this:

If they ever say that I was combative, don't believe it.

If they say that I brandished a weapon, don't believe it.

If they say that I was high on drugs, don't believe it.

If they say that I was prostituting, don't believe it.

It's not so much that I fear for my life, it's that I fear for future of my children.  I don't want for them to see their mother killed.  I want for them to trust police officers.  I want for them to understand that 99% of them are out to keep communities safe, and to protect them from the real bad guys.  They must understand that it's the 1% that gets the press, and their ideas about people should never be tainted by THAT minority.

It's hard these days.  To keep that brave face for them.  To know that, because of where we live, they will most likely be seen as Black (and therefore, bad), not as the beautiful human beings that they are (you know, that 'One Drop Rule'?  It exists).  But, we'll keep fighting the good fight, hubby and me.  And with a little help from our friends, we'll make it.  And our kids will make the world better than it ever was.

For now, I'll wait the requisite 10 days, then request defensive driving.  I'll go in person to the sub-station up the road from our house.  I'll hold my breath when I walk in, but I'll do it.  And, I'll handle my business.

I'll report back on that.

Happy Friday!

What I want. What I need.

I shared some deeply personal stories on my blog the other day. Stuff that even my own mother didn't know about until she read it yesterday.

I have received some not too nice messages about what I shared. People telling me that I was being hateful, unforgiving. People telling me that I am trying to make white people feel guilty for what happened to me.

Let me set somethings straight.

Never once have I expected anyone, White, Black, Mexican, Blue, Purple, or Polka-dotted to feel guilty. Up until a couple of days ago, no one, except the people directly involved, knew. I have never demanded, nor expected an apology from anyone, and up until a couple of days ago, I had never gotten one.

If I took just that small number of experiences from my life and decided that all White people were out to get me, my life now would look a lot different. I wouldn't have my husband or my kids. I wouldn't have my father-in-law or my sister-in-law, niece and nephews. I wouldn't have some of my dearest friends. I wouldn't have the life that I have.

What I want people to understand is that race does exist as a social construct in this world. And, it can be devastating...if you let it. If I extrapolated those experiences to all White people, then I'd hate all White people. But I don't. I saw then, and still see now, those people as individuals. They made their individual choices. They have (I'm hoping) changed. Matured. If they ever thought about their role in what happened, they decided that they would never let it happen again.

I don't want apologies.

I don't want "White Guilt".

I’m not on standby with a mug, waiting to drink "White Tears".

I want understanding.

I want people to understand that the ability to be “colorblind” is not always, if ever, a two-way street.

I want people to understand that if I am required to see White people as individuals, then White people should be required to see Black people as individuals. 

I want people to understand that, in those moments, those people chose to be hateful and unforgiving to me.

I need people to understand that if I don’t talk about it, then it will never get the attention that it deserves, and it won’t change the future.

I need for you to understand that when those events happened to me, during my most formative years, that I learned that my Black Life mattered only as far as others, as White people,  told me it was allowed…to make fun of, to suppress, to oppress.  Just because it makes you uncomfortable does not mean that I am not allowed to talk about it.  That. Shit. Happened.

Telling me to “get over it and stop making people feel bad,“ is blaming the rape victim for getting raped.  "Well, she shouldn’t have ordered the lobster."  "She shouldn’t have worn that skirt."  "She shouldn’t have been drinking."

You’re telling me that I shouldn’t have been born Black.

You’re telling me that since I was born Black, then I just have to deal.

You’re telling me to “be a good Black”, and let it go.  Don’t offend anyone by bringing it up.

You’re victimizing me all over again.

You’re being part of the problem.

Stop it.

I do not speak for all Black people.  I speak for me.  I tell these stories so that people will read them, will understand that this stuff still happens.  Just because you ignore it does not mean that it doesn’t exist. 

If it bothers you, do something about it.  Stand with me to make it stop.  Call it out when you see it…but call it out for what it is.

Just because one Black person shoplifts, it doesn’t mean that ALL Black people shoplift.  They should be seen as an individual who made a bad choice. 

Just because one White police officer abuses his badge, it doesn’t mean that ALL White police officers abuse their badge.  They are a police officer  who made a bad choice.

In each case, the offender should absolutely be held accountable.  And they should be held accountable equally.  The law is supposed to colorblind, right?  Existing on logic and reason, free from emotion, right?  Do something to help make it happen.

Yes, I understand that a police officer doesn’t know what s/he may be walking into when they leave for work in the morning.  You know what?  Neither do I.  I should not have to live in fear that I will be gunned down by a cop because I had to run to the grocery store since I ran out of butter for a cake that I was making.  Because I “fit a description of an armed and dangerous suspect seen driving a black minivan”.  Cops should not have to live in fear, either.

No one should have to live in fear.

Help me dismantle this system that has been built on fear and distrust.  Help me.  Help me build a society that is better for my kids, for your kids.  Help prove that the life of every person on this planet matters.  I can't do it alone.

What Matters? Who Matters?

Tell me that #AllLivesMatter.

Tell me.

Let me tell you a few stories.

Did my life matter when, in middle school, the PE teacher decided that I looked exactly like Whoopie Goldberg and decided that she was going to start calling me “Whoopie”?  When I refused to respond, she said called me Whoopie, again.  Once again, I refused to respond.  In front of the class, she told me to come when she called.  I told her that when she called me by my name, I would.  Did it matter that she yelled that she was about to make an example of me and yanked me out of the gym by my arm…leaving marks on me, and drug me to the principal’s office?  She tried to get me suspended.  She told the principal that I was being highly insubordinate.  When the principal asked what I had done, the teacher told her.  The principal sent me back to class, but later called me back to tell me that if I had just played along, then it wouldn’t have happened.

Did my life matter when, again in middle school, my English class thought that it would be funny to throw me a surprise “Baby Shower/Mother’s Day Party” so that my baby would have everything that he or she needed?  You know, I was told because, “Well, you people tend to have lots of babies very early in life, with no fathers around.  We just want to make sure that you’re not too much of a burden on the welfare office or your family.”  It was a party.  There were snacks.  They shouted, “Happy Mother’s Day, Cerissa!” to me when I walked into the classroom.  At least two teachers were complicit in that event.  No one stopped them.  No one told them that what the ENTIRE class was doing was wrong.  I can’t be sure if these kids’ parents knew that they were doing this.  Even if they did, if they would have stopped them.  When I expressed to the teacher how hurt and humiliated I was, she told me, “Oh, God!  You need to have a sense of humor or you’re not going to get very far in life.  They were just having fun.”

The same teacher who asked me if I was straight from Africa because my skin is as black as coal, my nose is disproportionate to the rest of my face and my hair is so kinky.  The same teacher who asked me if I knew who my father was, and if my brother and I had the same one.

Did my life matter when, in high school, I was told that I couldn’t be a real part of the quiz bowl team because I wasn’t “representative” of my school?  When I was told that I would make an excellent mascot, or team sponsor support person because, you know, Blacks weren’t really into academics. 

Did my life matter when, as an adult, I was driving my now husband’s Mustang down Bay Area and I got pulled over by a police officer for the vehicle having no front plates?  When the officer pulled me out of the car, told me, “Get your fucking hands on the hood and keep them where I can see them!”  When he informed me that people “like me” love stealing cars like that.  He ran my license while threatening to arrest me for stealing a car and identity theft.

Did my life matter when a woman at an optometrist’s office lied on me, and told her boss that I stole a handful of $6 eyeglass chains?  When that doctor approached me and accused me, not questioned, not asked…ACCUSED me of stealing them.  When my parents showed up and another worker there told my mom that “she didn’t look like that kind”.

Did my life matter? 

Do you realize the one difference between me and my attackers at those times?

Do you?

Do I need to spell it out for you?

You might say, “But, they weren’t violent attacks.”

The hell you say.

I was 12 years old when teachers, classmates, and so-called friends violated my childhood.  My innocence.  My right to feel safe at school.  My right to go to a teacher or administrator and tell them that I had been wronged.  My right to trust the adults around me.  My right for justice.

That was pretty damned violent, if you ask me.

I don’t need one person to validate, or invalidate, the life that I have lived in the skin that I have.  In each and every instance, my life…my BLACK LIFE did not matter.

So, go somewhere with #AllLivesMatter, because clearly, they don’t.

So now you say, “But, that was in the past.  You should get over it.  You should forgive and forget.  People change.”

You know what?  Those people who have been murdered…those BLACK people who have been murdered…deserved at least that much.  They may, or may not, have had questionable pasts, but didn’t they deserve better than what they got?

Don’t tell me to “forgive and forget” if you aren’t willing to do the same.  I’ll tell you, honestly I’ve forgiven.  It takes too much to carry that hate.  It festers and makes you as hard-hearted and lifeless as those who are engaging in the wrongdoing. 

But, I haven’t forgotten.  I won’t.  I can’t.  It is part of my history.  You can’t make me, and you can’t shame me for it. 

If it bothers you, get up, get out, and do something about it.  Prove to me that #AllLivesMatter to you by helping to prove that #BlackLivesMatter.

Believe me, you can support #BlackLivesMatter AND #CopsLivesMatter at the same time.  It’s called #ActingLikeADecentHumanBeing.

Make me believe that #AllLivesMatter.

Answers to a few questions about being Bentoriffic

I was overwhelemed (in a good way) about the positive responses that I got to sharing the lunches that I make for my family!  Wow!  That's all that I can say!  I really hope that it helps all of you moms and dads out there.

I had several questions asked by a few different people, so I thought that I'd share them here as a reference:

1.  Do your kids like cold fish sticks and popcorn chicken?

• Truth is, when we have them for a meal at home, they like them practically room temperature anyway.  I opt out of cold packs, as the bentos are insulated enough to keep the cool stuff cool.  They eat lunch early and are in school for only 4 hours per day.  When Cupcake starts kindergarten in the fall, I may reassess the whole cold pack thing in regards to yogurt and pudding.

2. How do you get them to eat soggy fish sticks and popcorn chicken?

• Ahhh, see, I cook them in the morning.  I have a handy-dandy toaster oven that is a life saver.  I ask them what they want to eat in the morning.  That's when I pop them in the oven.  I let them cool completely before I pack them.  Usually, the sequence is:  Start breakfast with Daddy, Ask what they want to eat, bake (if necessary), set out to cool completely while getting dressed.  just before it's time to leave, pack it up.  I'll go ahead to prepare the fruits, puddings, and/or yogurts in the trays and pop them in the refrigerator.

3.  How do you keep hubby's sandwiches fresher?

• I dress the cheese, not the bread.  That keeps the bread from getting soggy.  Thankfully, he's not picky about it like the girl's can be, so it helps to be able to prepare a few days of his food ahead of time.  On Sunday, I try to get Monday and Tuesday (at least) ready for him.  

4.  Those trays!  Where did you get them?

• I researched, and searched...read reviews, researched some more.  Then, bit the bullet.  The Bentgo Kids containers were purchased from Amazon, as were the Easy Lunchboxes and mini-dippers.  The Yumboxes, I ordered from their site.  The are available on Amazon, but if you sign up for their mailing list, they send out coupons.  I got ours at 20% off.

5.  What do you do when they get home from school?

• The trays on the girls' bentos are removable, and top-rack dishwasher safe.  They take them out of their lunch bags (Yes!  They fit into standard sized lunch bags, so you don't have to purchase any special one...unless you want to).  I rinse out the trays and pop them into the dishwasher.  I hand wash the shells so that the seals are preserved.  I have two sets of trays for the Bentgo Kids containers, and when the next coupon comes out, I'll order some more trays for the Yumboxes.

6.  What is the bento style?

• Packing food bento-style, is what you make of it.  Traditionally, it has its origins in Japanese cuisine, and is a way of presenting food so that it is colorful and inviting.  Bentos can be super elaborate (manga characters, landscapes, 3D flowers), or super simple (as in how I do it for my family).  Sure, I could wake up at 2 in the A.M. and carve apples, but my kids like apple slices.  I could use egg molds and shape freshly boiled eggs into hearts and flowers, but my kids don't eat boiled eggs (yet, at least) so that would be a huge waste of time...and eggs (which I use for baking and for hubby's lunches and snacks).  Instead, I use what they like.  I use little cookie cutters to make shapes out of Sugardoodle's sandwiches (she likes them bite-sized), and I use cute,colorful containers.  That's what I make of bento.  You really have to do what works for your family.

7.  Aren't they supposed to be nutritious?

• They can be.  They *should* be.  But right now, this is what my kids eat.  We are actually in the process of expanding their palates.  I take the opportunity to introduce new foods, flavors, and textures in small quantities.  Bentos help with that.  No, my kids probably shouldn't eat this many fish sticks, or frozen popcorn chicken pieces, but I'm a *for realz* mom, and I have to make these types of changes in their diets gradually.  I like to tell myself that they eat better than, say, maybe 60% of the kids in the country.  Besides, I need for them to eat lunch while they are at school.  They'll learn better, they won't disrupt the kids who are actually eating their lunches, and they won't be hangry.  I've actually instituted some food changes in our lives, but I know that gradual is the way to go with my kiddos.

8.  How do you find time to do this?

• If you're going to cut the crusts off of their sandwiches, take the extra 0.04 seconds to grab the cookie cutter and make their sandwich into a cute flower or heart.  You're cutting off of a block of cheese?  Take the extra 0.09 seconds to make one more cut and turn that square into a triangle.

Now, for some pictures:

 Macaroni and cheese, green apple slices, chocolate pudding, animal crackers, VA smoked ham

 Fruit salad, animal crackers, Macaroni and cheese, chocolate pudding

 Ham and cheese roll-up, red grapes, Gr. yogurt, Strawberry newtons, jelly sandwich bites

 Fish sticks and ketchup, Gr. yogurt, strawberries, strawberry newtons

 It may not look appetizing, but it sure is tasty!!  Leftover pot roast and steamed veggies, Hawaiian roll

 Breakfast for lunch!  Chocolate  chip Belgian waffles, Gr. yogurt, ham

 Chocolate chip Belgian waffles, Greek yogurt, strawberries

 Beef stick and bruschetta jack cheese, hummus, cherub tomatoes, and English cucumber slices, wheat thins

 raisins, ritz cheese sandwich crackers, grapes, teddy grahams

 Laughing Cow wedge and wheat thins, Mandarin orange, strawberries and green apple.  I was volunteering at school, and got to make myself a lunch!

 Salsalito turkey and pepper jack sandwich, carrots and Roasted Garlic hummus

 Fish sticks and ketchup, pretzles, chocolate pudding, Mandarin orange

 Popcorn chicken, green apple, smoked gouda sandwich bites, chocolate pudding, teddy grahams

Fish sticks and ketchup, Gr yogurt, green apples and teddy grahams.

I try not to give them the same things twice in a row, but (for the second time in as many weeks) Friday snuck up on me, and fish sticks for Cupcake was the best that I could do at the time.  But, that's the beauty of being flexible.  I've planned better for this coming week.

Snapshots from my life up until now

Here's what we've been up to these days:

Why Can't I Feel This Sleepless In The Afternoon?

An innocent enough question asked by a dear friend of mine at 330A the other day.

It's innocent enough, yet plagues my friends and me on an almost daily basis.  And, there's a really good answer.

It's because our brains don't know any other way any longer.

I'm going to address it from my personal circle of friends.  We've known each other for quite some time, and we all seem to share parts of our brains, and together, we make a whole.  (It's a beautiful thing, really...best little village that I could ever be a part of!)

But, why can't we sleep at night?  Why do we drag in the afternoon, practically falling on our faces from exhaustion, but lie down at night, wide awake?

It's an easy answer.

It's what we do.

During the day, we are focused on the needs of our family.  Our husbands, our children, pets (if we've got them), our parents, our siblings...they need something from us.  Whether they actually tell us what their needs are or not, we're figuring them out and trying to fulfill them.  We are trying to anticipate their needs before they tell us, thinking (at least) 15 steps ahead of where we are, in that moment, so that we don't fall 150 steps behind.

Let's start when a 'normal' person would start, first thing in the morning, but insert our restless minds' thoughts along the way.  (I'll be generous and say that the day starts at 6AM)

6AM:  Roll out of the bed and into the shower (if it's not already occupied).  Think about preparing lunches for husband and kids (CRAP!!  Are there enough fish sticks and mac-and-cheese for the kids' lunches today???), feeding the cats and dogs (please tell me that the dog didn't poop in the crate, and the cat didn't throw up on the bedspread while I was in the shower...I'll have to clean that first, before anything else, or it's gonna get gross).  Do I have anything clean to wear?  Well, I can do the yoga pants that I slept in, because my jeans didn't make it to the dryer yesterday...there's not too much snot/food/dirt on them.  Besides, my real friends will understand.  Let's brush teeth....SHOOT!!!  I need to get toothpaste.  And mouthwash.  I can't forget to add that to the shopping list, using My Little Pony toothpaste and bubblegum mouthwash is getting old.

615AM:  Well, I thought that I was going to get a decent shower in, but now that I have an audience, I'll move it along.  DANG!  It's 615!  I've got to move.  Well, we'll be ok as long as everyone is downstairs and eating by 630.  I've got 15 minutes to slap some blush and eyeliner on and run a brush through my hair.

640AM:  Why aren't they eating?!?  I'm running behind, not sure if I can catch up....Wait!!  There's coffee!  Yes!!  Coffee!  Pour a cup while preheating the toaster oven to bake the last 6 fish sticks (20 minutes) and scooping out some mac and cheese, and making a tortilla roll-up, chopping grapes, slicing cheese, counting Goldfish Crackers, rolling ham, squeezing ketchup (need to add that to the shopping list with toothpaste and mouthwash, oh, and coffee cream...just used the last of it).  Oh, wait...baby wants a bagel?  Ok, flip the setting on the toaster to toast, and wait on the fish sticks.

650AM:  Was there anything in your folder from school that I needed to sign?  Hold on, I need to look at my email real quick...COOKIES???  TODAY?!?!  I thought that was for tomorrow.  Preheat oven, run some hot tap water to warm eggs, pop butter in the microwave to soften....I've got time...

7AM:  Thank goodness Daddy is on breakfast duty.  Fill drink containers for kids, pack backpacks, (need to get some diapers...make a note of that).  Didn't meal plan....what's for dinner tonight?  Hmmm...not enough time to hit the store then get something in the crock pot....what's quick to cook after the girls get up from naptime?  Hamburger Helper....get ground chuck when you run to the store.  WRITE THIS DOWN!!!  You WILL forget!  You know that you will.

730AM:  Lunches packed, backpacks packed, notes signed, cookies baked, cookies packed.  Paper is out to write the list down, but the pen won't work.  Let's go, kids...time to go get dressed.  No, turn the TV off, Jake will be there later, he's on the DVR.

830AM:  Time to go!  Let's go!  Off to school.  Wait, when did Daddy leave?  Well, he got his lunch, that's a plus.  We really should take some time together...you know, talk, connect, act like more than two ships passing in the night.  Didn't I have some coffee at some point in time?  Oh, look, it's cold.  Never mind.  The kitchen is a disaster!  And, it's my fault...I'll have to clean this up.

9AM:  Kids are off to school.  I got 5 minutes with my girlfriends, and we're all off to do the stuff that's easier to get done without the kids.  I knew that I should have written that list down.  Do I have my coupons?  Ok, let's see...toothpaste...pick up some My Little Pony toothpaste.  And ground chuck.  Good,  Done!

9AM-1PM:  The kids are at school, but that's when I kick it into high gear.  It's not down time.  It's can I fold the laundry and  put it up before I have to leave to pick them up?  The kitchen can wait, we can't find the clean underwear.

1230P:  Finish folding, hanging, and putting up the laundry that I can.  Ten minutes to get to school for pick-up. Yes, babies, we can go to the playground for a little while  No, we are not going for snowcones afterwards.  One or the other, and you picked playground.  Play nicely!  Down the slide only!  Not up!  Do NOT pick the mulch up and put it in her hair!  Mulch stays on the ground.

130PM:  Ok, kids, time to go!  No, no tantrums.  If you have a tantrum, we're not coming back tomorrow.  Tantrums mean that you are too tired and need to take a rest.  It's time to go home for quiet time.

130PM-3PM:  Quiet time.  But I can't leave, as the toddler is going through something and won't sleep unless she's touching me.  I don't mind snuggling my baby, really, but the kitchen is a wreck...ahhhh, well....babies before dishes...one day, she'll be too big and won't want to snuggle with me.  I'll drink this in now.  CRAP!  I forgot to get diapers!

3PM:  Calm the 4 year old who happens to be having a nervous breakdown because nap time is over.  Wait, weren't you the one who didn't want to take a nap earlier?

4PM:  4 year old is finally calm and watching a cartoon.  The toddler can't let go of my leg, she cries every time I start working in the kitchen.  Sit on the sofa, watch cartoons with the kids.  I really need to clean the kitchen.  Now, after school snack dishes have piled on top of the breakfast dishes, on top of the lunch prep dishes.

445PM:  Realize that I need to cook dinner.  Not a chance to clean, maneuver around the stacks of dishes that are precariously stacked on the counter and in the sink.  Throw together the Hamburger Helper.  No, you can't have another snack, we're going to eat when Daddy gets home (which I hope is soon).

5PM-530PM:  Hubby arrives home.  Can you please entertain the kids so that I can go pee?  Then, I'll get the food dished up.  Can you get their drinks?  Their cups are somewhere in the kitchen.  Or the living room.  Never mind!  They are here in the bathroom.  Can you freshen them up?  Never mind, I'll do it.  Can you change the baby's diaper?  Or, take the 4 year old to the bathroom?  Ok, I'll change the diaper.  Can you help the 4 year old?

630PM:  Supper is *finally* over.  Bath time!  I'll shower while you bathe the toddler.  The 4 year old can watch a cartoon in our room.  Oh!  You're done!  Ummm...ok.....I still need to get out of the shower, dry off, brush and floss (DANG!  I got yet another tube of My Little Pony toothpaste!) maybe slap some moisturizer on my alligator-looking skin.  Bath time for the 4 year old.  Little Baby, want to read?  "NO!!"  Ok, let's get you brushed and flossed. We'll read Elmo (again) and Peekaboo (again).

730PM:  Bedtime.  No, really.  Let's cuddle.  Settle down.  It's night-night time.  "The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout...".  "A-B-C-D-E-F-G...",  "Twinkle, twinkle little star...".  OLAF!!  Olaf is right here.  "DOC!!!"  Doc is right here.  No, don't throw her on the floor, she doesn't like that.  Give her hugs and kisses.  Tell Olaf and Doc night-night.  Oh, there's sister and daddy...blow kisses!

820PM:  Baby is asleep.  Oh, GAWD!!  I dozed off!  Where's the baby???  Oh, Daddy moved her to hew own bed.  I should get up and at least help clean the kitchen.  He's so good for doing that.  For cleaning up my mess.  I've got to figure out how to better manage my time so that he doesn't have to do that after a full day's work.

824PM:  Baby is up.  Back in bed with me.  Sleeping on my face.  At least she smells good.

11PM:  I'm awake.  Wide awake.  Thinking about something that happened with the kids on the playground.  Did I tell my child to do the right thing?  Did I mess her up?  Am I teaching her to be either a doormat or a bully?  How far will she take the "be nice" admonition?  Will it be to her detriment?  Did I do the right thing by her?  No, you did the best that you could do with what you had.  Don't worry.  She's a great kid...do I worry too much?  Not enough?  I need to remember to get toothpaste for myself.  How can I lay here and think about what I need when I need to plan what hubby is going to have for lunch tomorrow.  Do we have yogurt?  Pancake mix?  I don't do enough teaching the baby her letters and numbers.  Maybe I should think about doing supplemental homeschool lessons.  Which curriculum is the best?  I don't want them to turn into some crazy, over-sheltered nut-jobs who can't interact with society.  I don't want to push them too hard, but I don't want them to not learn.  That playground incident is really working on me...don't think too much about it.  FISH STICKS!  crap, I forgot.  I really need to write this stuff down.  Maybe I can talk them into ravioli for lunch today.  I really need to be a better wife to my husband.  Wow, dinner out, just the two of us, would be nice.  No, stop being selfish.  He works too hard to have to worry about wining and dining you.  You should be more thankful that you can stay at home with the kids and not worry about how the bills are going to get paid.  Maybe just a couple of hours with your girlfriends.  In the evening.  No, that's not fair either.  To leave him with the kids after he's been at work all day.  And, you just got through saying how hard he works.  If anyone deserves some kidless downtime, it's him.  m.  He should go do the go-carts with the guys soon.  Did I teach my girl the right thing?  I am totally screwing up this wife/parent thing.  I hope that the teachers don't call CPS on me.  I swear, the baby climbs EVERYTHING.  And, she's about to shoot up three feet...she's super clumsy right now!  We don't beat our kids!  I swear it!

3AM:  Ok, I can't stop. I need to talk to someone.  I know, I'll send a quick message to my girlfriends.  They won't see it until morning,  because I hope that they can sleep, but maybe writing it out will get it off of my mind for a little while.  **get up and type a quick message**

312AM:  Oh, I see they are up!  Why can't I feel this sleepless in the afternoon?  Read their advice.  Take it to heart.  Feel a little better about the situation, and myself.  That bit of affirmation felt good. It's nice to know that I'm not alone.

330AM:  Ok, I'm going to try to get some sleep before 6AM.  I need to blog about this.  And write thank you notes from the party.  I'm already a week behind.  And, I'm three entries behind on my blog.  I should also write about the, "Be nice" lessons we always teach our girls.  What are we doing to them?  What am I doing to mine?!?  I am totally screwing this up.  They are going to end up in therapy, and it's going to be my fault.  It's always the mom's fault, right?  Yep...that's what's going to happen.  I totally suck at this.

530AM:  Well, crap.  That didn't work.  Thank God for Netflix.

540AM:  ZZZZZzzzzzzzz.......

555AM:  MOMMY!!  I'M UP!!

556AM:  Good morning, my sunshine.  Let's go to the potty.

557AM:  Is anyone ever going to worry about my needs?  Foolish woman!  Stop being so selfish.  Do you know how many women would trade places with you in a second?! You are living the life!  Enjoy it!

558AM:  Did I just take a micro-nap while talking to the kid on the potty?

6AM:  Beep!  Beep!  Beep!  Time to get up!


So, you  see....there it is.  Did you catch it?  It's that one moment where we say, "Is anyone going to worry about my needs?"  That keeps us awake and restless.  We feel guilty, having that moment of selfishness, and then, turn full throttle, back into taking care of everyone else's needs.  It's the guilt.  It kills us.  When we signed up for the job of wife and mother, we knew that it was a possibility.  Still, it takes us by surprise, and not in a good way.  Will it ever change?  I can't answer that question.  I'm sure that it can, but will it?

I won't dwell on those thoughts for too long...I have to get the plates ready.  Hubby cooked, so I must do my part.  The stolen moments that I took to write this make it seem like I'm just sitting on my tuckus, doing nothing.  But I HAD to get this out.  Maybe, just maybe, I'll sleep past midnight tonight...we'll see.