Dear Future Sister In Law...

There are so many things I want to say to you.  Like, thank you.  Thank you for loving my brother unconditionally and making him the man he is today.  Thank you for letting him be weird, and play video games, and annoy the shit out of you.  Thank you for giving your heart to him.  Thank you for sticking by his side as he grows and matures and learns and fails and succeeds.

But, more than that, thank you for becoming my sister.  I know I am not yet great at being a sister.  I didn't have one growing up.  My baby brother was nearly seven years younger than me and then I married a man who had a younger brother, too.  Brothers is what I knew.  Then I met you.   And you prepared me for having daughters.  And now I have two of them.  And Lord help me because I sure don't know the tricks of sisterhood.  But I am learning. From you. You are teaching me so many things, not only about being a sister, but being a better mom to raising sisters, too. Thank you.   

What you have taught me is to share.  To share attention, to share ideas, to share a womanly bond that I only knew with my best friends.  But, my best friends didn't have to share my family.  I got my family to myself.  I am learning how to share my mom with you.  How to share family gatherings and vacations and special events. I am learning how to not be jealous, to not compare, or not be unsure of myself around a sister. Asking myself, "Am I good enough?" But when I look past my insecurities, I am learning that by having you, I am getting the sister I longed for growing up. I am going to gain so many wonderful memories with you.  With you and my brother. With you and my brother and the family you create together. Thinking of the vacations and Christmases and birthdays we will do together with our families makes my heart smile. I can't wait to love on my nieces and nephews you give me in the future. 


You are quite an amazing person.  You are strong and smart and confident and beautiful. If I could pick any role model for my girls, it would be someone like you.  My girls love you so incredibly much.  You may be their favorite person in the whole world.  I can't express to you how grateful I am to you for loving them they way you do.  You may not understand it yet, but you are leaving a lasting impression in their hearts.  You are everything to them. Harper Belle idolizes you. You will forever be special to them.  Thank you for making them feel the way you do.  


So even though I may sometimes struggle in some areas during this process of gaining a sister, I am whole heartedly so grateful for you.  And will always be here for you.  For anything you may need.  Like when my brother is play fighting too hard or is pecking you like a chicken or is calling you with his foot phone.  I will be here. (And maybe silently judge you for marrying such a sweet, little idiot)     

I will make mistakes as I learn how to continue growing in this new sisterhood.  Be patient with me. But know from deep down in my heart, I love you.  I respect you.  I can't wait for our relationship to continue to grow and our bond to deepen. And I think you are a wonderful addition to our family. I couldn't have picked a better sister to have.  

My brother is the lucky one is this relationship. 
Your future together is going to be a beautiful one.
I love you, sister. 

 

Enjoy Each Season

It's been awhile. 

It's amazing how much time you think you have, but don't.  Or often how much time you do have, but don't use wisely. Which is my case.

I've found myself lately wishing for what I don't have, instead of being grateful for what I do.  I don't mean to do it.  It just happens. Which leads me to my latest motto that I am reminding myself daily...

ENJOY EACH SEASON. 

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall.

Babies, Toddler, Children, Adults. 

Sleepless Nights, Crying, Nursing, Rocking Babies. 

Crawling, Walking, Talking, Running. 

School, Reading, Playing, Arguing. 

Growing, Growing, Growing, Growing. 

My babies are growing.  And I need to enjoy each season they are in.  I need to enjoy the right now. 

Why is it that when we are in the season of life that we are in currently, we look forward to the next step? I can't wait until she can feed herself.  I can't wait until she can buckle herself in.  I can't wait until she can read the book by herself.  I can't wait until I can just go out to dinner without kids. 

And then it comes. And then it goes.  And then I am left sobbing alone at night (husbands working night shifts cause a whole lot of emotional mind games) when I check on my "babies" and I remember that they are not "babies" anymore.  I don't want to wish that time away.  I don't want to go back either, I am excited to watch them grow, but I just want to enjoy now.  

Right now. 

I want to enjoy a messy house with kids running around everywhere.  I want to enjoy my kidless friends passive aggressively commenting on why there are crumbs constantly on my floor.  I want to enjoy a couch with sand on it because my daughter, still, day after day, won't take of her shoes outside to empty them. I want to enjoy dirty faces and silly screams at the dinner table.  I want to enjoy popsicles in the bathtub. I want to enjoy 30 minute play dates before bedtime. I want to enjoy being ridiculously tired at the end of every day and so incredibly overwhelmed by my children that I want to strangle them and at the same time snuggle them and never, ever let them go. 

Parenting. It's bittersweet.  It's really hard. And it's a crazy journey.  And it's the life we were given.  And I want to enjoy my season. 

My season. 

Of being a mom to two little girls. Of being a wife. A police wife. And a friend. And a daughter. And a sister. And a teacher.

 Of making mistakes and learning from them. Of watching my girls make mistakes and learn from them, too.   

Because I am wise enough to know, that when this particular season is over, which it will be in a blink of an eye, I am going to miss this season tremendously.  I am going to want it back.  I am going to know I am one season closer to having that clean house with no toys laying around everywhere.  With that all white Pottery Barn couch that I will buy one day. With no crumbs or sand on my floor. With no middle of the night crying that turn into snuggles.  With no kiddie belly laughs.  With no counting down the hours until bedtime and then finding the urge to wake them up 30 minutes later because you miss them. 

And I am not quite ready for that new season.

I am going to enjoy this season I was given. I am going to try not to compare my season of life to someone else's season of life. I may forget some days and I may need reminders here and there, but my next season will come when it's ready.  When I am ready.  When my family is ready. Until then, it's oreos, popcorn, coke, and a movie with my squad watching the latest Disney movie.

  

What's so bad about that season, right?

I'm Raising An "Alcoholic"...

But I'm not even one. (yet?) 

How does this even happen?  

Until recently, I rarely even had one drink.  I'm talking, maybe a fruity drink at Outback or something.  (remember, I met my husband when I was 14, there wasn't much sluttin' it up in college for me. Bummer---JK---Sorta)

Then I went on a cruise with some coworkers last month---Where my cootie cat ladies at?! 

Here I found that with the right group of ladies, drinking can totally be my jam. I have never had so much fun throwing a few back and dancing for 3 hours until 2am with all the little 18 year old hookers judging me. 

#ccruise2015 #fancypants #boodaddies #whatyougotinthatbag #yourmajesty #ohsylvia #imsoshame  

Note: this giddy face ("alcoholic" daughter has the same one)

Anyways, back to my 4 year old "alcoholic".  I cringed a little bit every time she ordered a "margarita" from our local Mexican place for Taco Mondays.  Like, literally, "I'll have a strawberry margarita..." comes out of her mouth to the waiter. I'll quickly clarify that it means a virgin daiquiri.  Then the little lush upgraded her "margaritas" to the "fancy glass, please." This would be the big fishbowl drinks.  Awesome.  Mom award right here.  Granted, my husband totally takes advantage of the 2 for 1's that place offers so she is well versed in the ordering tactic, but for my daughter to self guide her own order of 2 for 1's...

That same giddy face as me. Trouble. 

Too many drinks always leads to riding the donkey.

The major cringeworthy encounter for her boozing came Bachelorette Monday this past week. Two friends came over to wine and dine while we watch trash TV and my friend asks, "Do you have a pitcher I can mix this in?" I shit you not, my kid responds confident as ever, 

"No, but we have Grey Goose." 

Stop it. 

My friend died laughing. 

I was quickly rewinding all of the conversations she has to listen in on to be able to even know what, where, or why we have Grey Goose. 

In the words of a wise, dear friend...I'm so shame. 

My final thoughts on my guzzler of a kid is just this: more power to you my little boozer in the making! You order those margaritas virgin drinks, smoothies, and iccees like it's nobody's business and demand the fancy glass. With a damn umbrella in it! 

Your mom and dad will be right there drinking our own umbrella decorated beverages. The adult kind.  The Grey Goose kind. As you apparently already know, sister.  

We have already taught you to smell the beverage before you take a big gulp because you never know what is mixed up in that Tervis Tumbler. 

Knowledge is power, folks. Teaching 'em young. 

And I leave you with my souvenir from my booze cruise...

Cause Lord knows the dancing that went down on that vacation.  And I will proudly hand this shirt down to my little lady when the time comes. Dance (and drink) like no one is watching Little Princess! 

#dontjudge

UPDATE: We went to see a movie today and one of the previews was for Diet Coke and she asks, "Is this a beer commercial?" 
Sigh.    

Food For Thought...

I haven't blogged in a little while due to being fresh out of funny moments to share.  I know the funny moments are still happening, but they probably have just become a normal part of our every day, that certain things just don't stick out. Every day is a shit show in my house but, fear not…!

  

Harper Belle is still turning into a 4 year old teenager.  Especially with comments like, "On our movie field trip, we are going to see 50 Shades of Grey…"  Ummm.  Not quite, sweet kid.  You are seeing The Cardboard Rocket, but thanks for always listening butting into my conversations and making it sound like all your mother does is talk about "50 Shades" and other inappropriate things around you. (I mean, not all the time….)

And Penelope has grown into a one year old, sassy, stubborn piece of work who gets into eeeevvveeerrrthhhhiiinnnngggg.  I swear Penelope has my husband's personality.  Esshh. 

Annoying kids at Target per usual...

Anyways, as I sit here wanting to blog, I started thinking... what has been on my mind? 

I find myself lately wondering, what can I be doing to be a better mom?  Am I the only one who sometimes wonders that?  I ponder thoughts like...Should I be getting up earlier in the morning to ensure an easier routine to work and school?  Should I be putting my phone away while my kids are awake? Should I be giving my kids all organic snacks? How much T.V. is too much? 

What makes a good mom, good?

Then I stopped.  I have to remind myself, am I really that shitty?  If my biggest concern is whether or not my morning routine is running smoothly and if my iPhone dying every night is a hint that I may be on it too much, then I must be doing an okay job.  

As more and more of my friends are entering the world of trying/having babies and raising babies, I see them face the quick reality that being a mom is no joke.  It is hard freaking work. I think folks often put up the front that life is easy for them. We all know the truth. 

I am exhausted 6 out of the 7 days of the week at 5:30 pm.  The one night I am not exhausted is usually the one night where my children aren't throwing tantrums or making messes or screaming loudly to be funny and annoying.  When I finally drag my ass into bed, which is after I tell myself I'm going to bed at 8 once the kids are in bed, but end up watching 3 hours of DVR, I thank God for my blessings, ask Him to help me be a better person, then pat myself on the back because I got through another day.  I got through another day where my children went to bed happy and loved. It may have not been a perfect day and I may have lost my cool a few times, but they know that I love them.  

I pat myself for not only being the best mom I can be right now, but for also being the best wife I can be.  Even if that's just 10 minutes of conversation with my husband without kids before he goes to work.  I pat myself for making it through another day teaching sweet kids who have no idea the reality of adulthood ahead of them. They  have mamas and daddies at home doing their best, too.  

My rambling leaves me understanding a little bit more that although there will always be things I can do to improve myself as a mom, I am doing pretty damn good.  And you are doing pretty damn good, too.  Congratulations on making it through another day where you give your babies or husbands or students genuine love. Love that makes them feel good and smile and giggle. Love that makes you grateful for what you have. That other people looking in may want. We sure aren't perfect, but most of us know that.  We are all second guessing ourselves. Perhaps instead of spending so much time wondering what I am doing wrong and what I can do to be better, I should bask in the glory of the things I am doing right.  We are all trying our best. And at the end of the day, if my babies are going to bed with full hearts, so am I. 

Word. 

Happy Holidays from the Hot Mess Express

Looks can be deceiving.  Especially around the holidays when you are receiving endless amounts of Christmas cards that showcase a beautiful, happy family.  All smiling.  All looking like life is a breeze. I am here to clarify that my family is not as Pleasantville meets Stepford Wives as it may seem. I had two sweet family members compliment my family photo over the past month or so.  One saying that my family could be the poster family for the perfect family. Say what...!?  
My response to one of them was not to be fooled, my family is on the Hot Mess Express.  All. Of. The. Time.

   Our Holiday Card we sent out with Merry Christmas scrolled on the bottom.  Wow! What an illusion! No one is screaming, pouting, or throwing sand. :o) 

What I should have done is sent out our Christmas Card with Penelope shoving food down her throat (as she constantly is), Harper Belle wearing a costume, wig, and heels with her hair matted (as she constantly is), and Jon and I with a cocktail in our hands (as we so very often are). Side note: I would be wearing stretchy pants in our "real life" Christmas picture. This may be inspiration for next year!      

Here was my alternative choice for our Holiday Cards....HAHAHAHA!

My intention when sending out Christmas Cards is not to display a perfect family, but instead to share one brief moment, where my family got their shit together for a photo.  And take note, our photo we sent out was from June when Poppy Girl was 3 months old.  She is now almost 9 months old...we couldn't get our shit together again for another family photo in 6 months time. Way. To. Go. 

Thank you for all the kind compliments on our lovely family picture of four crazies.  They made me smile and giggle at the same time knowing what really goes down behind closed doors.  As so many of you probably can relate to.  I hope the holiday season leaves you with endless laughable moments, a limited amount of melt downs (either from your children or yourself), a healthy New Year, and a grateful heart for the Hot Mess Express you may be traveling on as well.  It's a great ride. Merry Christmas! 

Shout Out To My Fellow Mommas Out There...

A sweet friend asked me tonight if having two kids seemed easier yet?  
The simple, honest answer. 
No.  
Does it help tremendously that the new one isn't colicky and screaming constantly? 
Yes. 
That she can laugh and giggle now? 
Yes.  
That the sister bond I see between the two of them is amazing? 
Yes. 
But, easier...
No. 

It's funny how you think you are totally mastering the whole parent thing.  I'm talking you are on such a high because your house is clean. Praise Jesus. Both kids are well groomed, fed, dressed in the nice clothes.  Like the Gap crap.  Or maybe even high rolling in the J.Crew Crewcuts stuff.  Their hair is done.  Like actually brushed, maybe braided, possibly in a bow.  You are feeling like you are finally getting the hang of this thing.  So perhaps you venture out to Target.  (got to start small, folks)  You are in the store.  One kid walking nicely next to you, the other in the cart seat.  Enjoying your Starbucks. (fountain coke for me, please) Before you know it, the one walking drops the damn icee.  All. Over. The. Floor.  You remain calm.  Wipe it up.  You got this.  But then, the one in the cart seat spits up everywhere.  What the hell?  She never spits up.  OK.  You got it under control.  A cute scarf picks you right back up.  I need that. You grab some shit from the home goods section. You obviously needed a new throw blanket. Perhaps some new dish towels and that Halloween ghost you have to hang on your front porch.  

Then you hit the toy aisle.  Never fails.  Here goes the one holding your hand:

This is cute.  I want this. Santa can get this.  Oh, Penelope would like this.  Mom, can you fit in this dress?  A new Elsa doll. Wow, I don't play with this toy or even watch this show, but I really think we should get it and I am never leaving this toy aisle ever even if you threaten me and start counting down, what does that even do mom, haha, joke is on you. (or so it seems she says.)

Ah ha! But as quick as the joke was on you and you are panicking the fellow moms in the aisle are going to judge you and shun you to bad mom hell and that little butthead thinks she has the upper hand, she looks at you kind of funny.  You know that look.  The kid has to poop.  And you know as much as you love Target, the bathrooms there are gross.  So now you are trucking it through the store with your kid that has to poop and your baby in the seat cart, now in your hands, now pulling out your hair and scratching at your face and screaming to be funny.  How the hell are you going to hold one in your arms and wipe the other's ass in the dirty bathroom...? Confidence way out the window at this point.  

You figure it out, you escape, you are exhausted.  You buy whatever the hell is in your cart.  You drive home realizing this is how Target gets all your money on a weekly basis.  (Take note, fellas.)  
You walk through your home doors.  
Just as easily you walked out those same doors confident, perhaps a little cocky, feeling like a bad ass mom; you come back through them feeling like you need a margarita, a nap, and a nanny. 

No. It hasn't gotten any easier with two.  I am guessing it never will.  But the stories that I get from the two of them may be worth every second. Maybe. (a very loose maybe) 
For every confident day, there are like 19 days following where I am brought right back down to reality.  I like to remind myself that I am trying my best.  And that is all those little suckers need. For me to try my best. To love them. To let them run a muck around the house and be kids.   

For all my new mommas out there...You are doing awesome.  You are great, you are loving, you are fabulous.  Those babies love you more than you will ever know.  And most importantly, you are not alone. You are not the only one who dreams about bubble baths and wine glasses and catching up on DVR and having couch dates again. You will feel like yourself again soon. Maybe a little bit crazier then before babies, but yourself.  Know it doesn't get easier, but the love sure does grow each and every day.

Word to my sistas': Represent. See you at Target with those screaming babies. No judgement coming from this hot mess of a mom with two chaotic kids. Amen. 
And if your children aren't like mine and you have perfect trips and successful days everyday, good for you. Share some tips...or knock on wood, your day is bound to come sucka...

Trouble. The two of them together. 

Summer Lovin'

Summer has come and gone.  How quickly back to school came.  How quickly endless summer days ended.  How quickly Harper Belle started Pre-k 3 and Penelope entered happy days were colic almost seemed like it never existed. Almost. 

Here is little momma on her first day of Pre-k 3.  My heart melts. 

When I look back to why I didn't blog at all in July or August, nothing really comes to mind.  We were getting into a much better schedule with Poppy and were finally enjoying days were we could leave the house without her losing her shit.  We traveled down to South Florida for 10 days were P got baptized and we swam every day in the pool.  And then the crazy that is back to school hit. But otherwise, nothing too eventful.  

 The Goose rocking her Baptism Gown. 

I think my most memorable event this summer is probably learning that Harper Belle is an absolute nut case in the movie department.  We found ourselves watching movies often this summer when P was napping or sitting or laying or just because it was too dang hot to even walk to the mailbox.  Anyway, I would be scrolling through the channels and naming the shows that are on and HB will literally squeal with glee if a "scary movie" is on.  Not kidding.  We are talking some of her faves are as follows:

-War of the Worlds (her top favorite) - What the hell kind of kid likes watching a bellowing alien robot thing come up from underground and try to suck up people into their spaceships?  Not to mention, I have to watch Tom Cruise over and over and there is just something about him ever since he married Katie Holmes that just bothers me...

- Jaws - Now, this one I don't mind.  I think this movie is pretty awesome.  I am, however, utterly surprised that considering we live in Florida and love to swim, she isn't even the slightest bit concerned that a giant shark isn't going to gobble her up.  But, she is very familiar with the theme music from this movie, so it's fun to scare her in the pool or bathtub with that tune...duunnn dunnn... duuuunnnn duun... duuunnnnnnnn dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn dunnnn!!!!

- Jurassic Park - This is my all time favorite movie, so whenever it comes on, of course I stop to watch.  This one did scare her just a little, so we only watched about 5 minutes before I changed it. Pending you watch it at the right time.  It is soooo slow to start.  Let's just get right to the point where the T-Rex is all up in those two jeeps' business...the water vibrating while that dino walks up is straight awesome.  Not to mention, HB needs to buck up at this movie since my mom had me see it in the movie theater when it first came out.  Giant dinosaurs on the big screen as a kid. Bad. Ass.   

Here is the best one...wait for it....

- Octoshark vs. Pterocuda - I. Am. Not. Even. Kidding. This may be the best name for a movie ever.  You can probably guess that this shit was on the Sci-Fi channel.  So we turn in on out of curiosity.  And at just the right moment apparently, because a huge "octoshark" jumps right out of the ocean and bites off Conan O'Brien's head.  Yes, Conan O'Brien. It gets better. Then blood is gushing everywhere and I am quickly calling timeout on this movie.  So I immediately change it and the kid throws a legit temper tantrum.  The basket case can't stop talking about the movie where the shark creature bites of a head.  For the record, we didn't watch more than those 10 seconds of gore so I don't even know what the Pterocuda looks like. Big Bummer. Seriously. 

And for all the judgy folks out there, I monitor MANY movie choices.  My daughters sure in hell aren't watching the ones that haunt you for the rest of your life.  There will be no Bambi in this house. Hell no.  Or Fox and the Hound.  Absolutely not.  Dumbo is questionable. I would much rather my child watch man eating beasts than watch a sweet deer momma get shot.  RUINED MY PERSPECTIVE ON LIFE. 

Hot Mess Express. 

Pedicure on my Toes, Toes. 

Poppy Girl and her Baby Blues 

        

When we weren't watching "scary" movies this summer, we were dressing up in fur coats and shades having dance parties.  I often wonder if Penelope sits back and wonders what the hell kind of life she got brought into.  And as I write this, I am sure my husband often wonders the same thing.  Poor guy.  A house full of ladies who like to shop, dress up, make messes, and dance everywhere.  Every man's dream, right?  Anyway, check out that diva above.  I don't know where she gets it from...(insert sarcasm) Harper Belle also got her first hair cut and manicure and pedicure before she started school.  I can't believe how quickly she grew up into a little girl.  How does it happen....?  

Sweet Poppy girl has made a 180 in her life choices.  I guess she started taking our threats of leaving her at a "safe place" seriously.  She is happy and laughs and lets me hold her (for short periods).  Better than nothing! Her baby blue eyes are beautiful. Since I have brown eyes, I just love staring into hers. Watching the two girls interact is perfection.  They couldn't adore each other any more than they do.  

I will leave you with a shout out to the FSU Seminoles!  My family will be cheering on the Noles this football season and hoping for a National Championship Title again.  Especially since my husband should have taken me to Pasadena this past January for the game, but dropped the ball on that.  Not putting the blame on anyone or anything...Ahem, Jon. 

What a Lame-o.  

This year will hopefully be his chance to redeem himself.  Or its out of the house for him.  A lot is riding on this college football season.  Pride, Determination, Money, Marriages.  No Biggie. Here is to a wonderful football and fall season. Go Noles!