Organized Chaos

Earlier this afternoon, as that magical silence known as Both Kids Napping at the Same Time fell over the house, I stood shock-still in the middle of my living room, wondering what I should do next.  I thought about my three-foot-long to-do list and took a long look around me at the debris left over from Hurricane Children.  I stood a little while longer, then turned on my heel and made a run for our bed.  I pulled those cool sheets over my head like I was trying to block out the noise of all the responsibilities hollering at me to pay attention to them.  I just didn’t want to deal with them.  I couldn’t face the laundry baskets full of folded clothes that needed to be put away.  Didn’t really want to investigate if that vague smell of pee I noticed in the family room was of child or animal origin.  And I was cowed by the balls of dog hair that were starting to drift across our hardwood floors like tumbleweeds in an old western movie.  If I were a child, I’d have thrown myself on…

Cranky McWhinesalot Strikes Again (Yep, I’m Talking about Me)

What a day.  I don’t get kids–even if they have half my DNA.  I used to joke that there’s not much of a difference between toddlers and the teenagers I used to teach:  they’re moody.  One minute they need you, and the next they’re telling you to go to hell (well, SK hasn’t learned to say that exactly, thank goodness, but we definitely get the drift now and then…).  They cry on a dime, and occasionally scream for absolutely no reason.  They slam doors.  And just when you think that you’re about to lose your sanity–that tense moment where you honestly wonder who came in and swapped your child out for her evil twin–all of a sudden the tension melts.  Evil twin leaves, and your little doll is back.  She gives you a big kiss on the cheek and a hug around the knee, and the next thing you know you’re dancing around the living room together, giggling over a funny move.  So, what is it?  Growing pains?  A struggle to assert their individuality?  Or just lack of sleep…

10 Reasons Why Raising Small Kids is Good for Your Ego

Most of my mom friends are, like me, just starting their families.  Our oldest children are around 2 1/2 or 3 years old, so we’re still in the shock of how quickly we change–physically and otherwise–in these early years of baby-making.  For instance, even if you lose the baby weight and knock yourself back into shape, you won’t recognize the body pregnancy and delivery left behind.  You realize one day that your butt’s not where it used to be.  All of the clothes you were so anxious to get back into don’t fit quite the same anymore.  If you had a c-section, you might have that lovely little “shelf” that sometimes parks itself permanently above your scar.  And if you’re breastfeeding, you can pretty much forget about wearing any kind of cute little top or dress until your baby is weaned (and if you totally disagree with this last statement, please tell me where you shop…).  Nursing bras and spaghetti straps aren’t exactly an attractive combo.  Alas, even if I could wear something out of this month&#8217…