Mother's Day

Let's talk, for a minute, about Mother's Day. Mother's Day is, at best, not horrible, and at worse, a total soul-crushing day of torture. (The one exception: The Mother's Day before when you're pregnant with your first child. That is a magical day). It may surprise you that I'm skeptical of Mother's Day, but I am.

This is an old Irish Mother's Day blessing, right?

  So, what's the problem with Mother's Day? Mothers with young children just want to sleep in, not be responsible for everything, and probably don't want to rush around honoring every other mother in the world. We're in the trenches. We're there-getting poo flung at us and peed on and yelled at and told that our food is gross, feeling like we can't do anything right, our house isn't clean enough, we work too hard or not enough, etc, etc, etc. Still, every year, we think that Mother's Day will be different. But it won't.

To kids it's just another day. Kids don't really care about Mother's Day because they don't understand what it's like to be a mother and they won't until they are one. Since you've become a mom, chances are that you've thanked your mom repeatedly for being a great mother-because you didn't know what it took to keep these kids fed, clothed, and keep yourself functional until you became a parent. Being a mother is amazing but terribly difficult work.

  What would be a perfect Mother's Day for me? Well, sleeping past 7, not having to shower for a while, sitting around, drinking a coffee while my kids play nicely, don't complain that they're bored or fight with each other, being able to ask once for something to be done-and having it be completed, and just, in general, being treated like a human being. Before motherhood I wouldn't have thought that was a big deal, but now, that looks like an amazing day! BEST.DAY.EVER! Now, I bet that all of the moms are nodding and smiling and there's sappy music playing in your head. Yes, that's what most of us want. Grand gestures are fantastic, but if there is nothing else it's just a day where we get a fantastic, new tennis bracelet and matching earrings. Most of us don't want to rush around and see everyone else in the world who is also a mother. Most of us just want to relax, be a little selfish, and have one day where we don't have to contort into the role that everyone else needs us to be. It's Mother's Day, right?

  So moms, call your mom and tell her you love her and that you want to thank her for being so amazing. Offer to take her out or make her lunch or dinner or whatever you want to do. It doesn't have to be on Mother's Day. If you have young kids, this day is about you. Spend it recognizing other mothers or not! The important thing is this-just lower your expectations. Mother's Day is infinitely more important to you than anyone else. That's just the way it is. They love you, they appreciate you, just try to relax and enjoy whatever the day brings. Save up all of your stories, call you BFF, and you can bond over your respective days later.

Husbands: Make or buy her a card/gift/whatever means the most to her. Tell her you love her and thank her for being your children's mother. If there's a problem intervene before everyone ends up dead.

Kids: Don't be assholes to your mom today. She is so very tired of your shit and this is one day that she will not just sweep it under the rug. That hand made pinch pot will not make up for the giant fit you threw yesterday, but a pinch pot, a hug, getting along with your sibling and not complaining about what Mom wants to do are a good start!

  Happy Mother's Day, to all of the mothers out there!

How the Garbage Man Saved My Marriage...

Yes, that is a very dramatic title, isn't it?  Now, before you get all hot and bothered (mom) worrying about the state of my marriage, here's the truth...I may have overstated the issue a bit.  I'm going to lay it all out for you, though, and I think you'll understand where I'm coming from.

Here is my theory about why people get divorced:  teeny tiny little problems (like who should take the trash to the dump or do the dishes after dinner) turn into bigger problems (like hating each other), then the biggest problems (cheating, etc) turn into D-I-V-O-R-C-E.  Yeah, I know what you're saying.  Many marriages are shams, many wives are bitches and/or nags, many husbands are just douchebags and/or clueless, every rose has it's thorn...blah, blah, blah.  Those aren't the type of marriages I'm talking about.  I'm talking about everyone else.  Your friends, in-laws, boss, whoever.  The type of people who, when they announce they are getting a divorce, cause shocked silence, weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Their announcement causes everyone who hears about it to say "I never saw that coming."  These marriages die a slow death of resentment, silence and fights about trash or dishes but really about so much more.  Let's be honest, when you fight about something with your spouse, is it really about that one issue?  Isn't it really about something else (not feeling valued, being lonely, not being sure that you're on the same team any more)?  I know it is.  Shhhhhh...you don't even have to say it.

The truth is that my marriage is pretty amazing.  My husband is kind, a great dad, funny and not at all a douchebag.  I'd like to think that other people think that I come across as slightly less bitchy in real life than I do in my head.  We tend to talk things over, are on the same page when it comes to raising our kids, and have lots of fun together. 
However, there was a problem in our household...and it stank.

Stop smiling, you asshole.

We live in a rural development, really more of a small town inside of another small town.  It's picturesque, classic New England, dirt roads, cape cod houses but no trash pick up.  The only way to have your trash removed from your house is via one of two methods: pay someone to do it or take it to the dump your own damn self.  (watch the video-this is one of my fondest childhood memories)

So, being the stingy, contrary New Englanders we are, we found out that it would cost $20 per month to have someone take away our trash!  "NO WAY!" we said.  We were not going to pay someone $20 to haul away our old food containers, dirty diapers, etc.  We would take it to the dump ourselves.
Well, after 3 winters and summers of fighting about who was going to take the trash to the dump...what's that?  You want to see what that fight looks like?

Almost there...Pretty accurate.

Me:  Can you please take the trash to the dump?  The shitbird raccoons are trying to get into the bins every night and I'm pretty sure there's a colony of maggots in the bottom of the bin.
Him:  (sigh) Okay.  Why can't you do it during the week?  I have to work all day and then spend Saturday cleaning out the van and taking the trash to the dump now.
Me: (trying not to punch him in the wind pipe) Well, I'm at home with two kids, I do everything else around here, and I'm just asking you to take the trash to the dump.  Please, please, don't make me go there.  I hate it there.  It smells horrible, there are so many flies, and I just HATE THE DUMP.
Him: (looks defeated, clearly can not argue with my airtight rhetoric)  Okay, I'll do it.  Do you think I like going to the dump? 
Thing 1:  Thing two pooped in the bath tub/spilled something/drew on the wall!
Me and him:  Stop tattling!  Thing Two, why did you poop in the bath tub/spill something/draw on the wall?

and scene...

You're too kind! 

Now, imagine that almost exact same fight happen 30 times a year...or, imagine someone not going for a while and the trash piling up and then imagine the passive aggressive rage I would exhibit when the shitbird raccoons did get into the trash and spread it all around the yard....and guess who got to clean it up because I "just stay home."  You guessed it.  The trash was not just a festering maggot colony, it was festering rage and resentment and fights and loads of bacteria.

How can I hate something so adorable with so much passion?  Once you've woken up to this scene a few times, you'll find yourself screaming swears at them from your living room windows, too.

Finally, I had enough.  He got a better job which freed up a little extra money which meant I could finally justify paying someone else $20 per month to come haul away our 2-4 bags of trash and recyclables per week.  And, you know what?  It is amazing.  I can't explain the joy I get in taking the trash bins out to the curb and watching for Ralph I-don't-know-his-last-name to pull up in his red truck with his reflective stuck-on letters on the side to empty out my trash and recyclables and take it where ever he wants to take it.  It is just not our problem any more.  So how did this save our marriage?  It gave us one less stressful thing between us.  We were able to move on, get rid of this issue and not give it room to make a problem for us in the future. Plus, I really, really hate going to the dump. 

Today's lesson:  If you can get rid of a major stressor, do it.  Don't let the raccoons win, and let Jensen tell you what you already know:

...swoon....

The Dog Poop Incident

"What's that?  Oh, uh oh...um...I stepped in dog poop."  I hear my husband say from the kitchen.  "And now it's on the floor.  I have to go to work, sorry!" he rushes through that sentence as he backs out of the door.
"Oh, great.  Thanks for giving me a reason to wash the floor today" I say sarcastically.
What did I want to say?  How about "Get your butt back in here and CLEAN UP THIS POOP!"
My friend suggested that I roll up the area rug that got the brunt of the poop, put it outside with a note on it that says "wash me!" (I might add "and don't come in until you do!")
But I didn't.  I cleaned up the offensive chunks, got a stiff bristled brush and some dish detergent and scrubbed the crap out of that rug. (Pun completely intended) I used a stiff bristled brush and some diluted Dawn Dish Detergent and it seemed to clean it pretty well. Then I washed the floor and got on with the rest of my day.
However, I did have that image of Cinderella flitting through my head.  You know the part I'm talking about.  After she has been told she can go to the ball if she just can get her chores done first.  The infamous "If..." from the stepmother.
So, the good news is that my kitchen and bathroom floors are clean and shiny and the rug in front of the door has been scrubbed and steam cleaned.  We also have a new rule that anyone who wears work boots has to check the bottom of their boots before they come into the house.  I am thinking of changing the "he who smelled it, dealt it" to "he who tracks it, scrubs it," but that's not very catchy.
There's not a whole lot more to the story, and I don't have much more to add, but I thought that other Cinderellas may appreciate the situation.