Still here {A Little of the Mom Life}

     Yesterday I had a newcomer to storytime. His name was Jacob and he'll be one at the end of this month. This is super important to the story of my day. It's the catalyst of all my thoughts and emotions. His older brother used to come to storytime. (He's now 6.) Jacob came into the room with his grandma and his grandma said I might remember his brother when he came with his mom. She mentioned their names and it all clicked - probably partially due to the fact that Jacob resembles his older brother a lot.

     And then she told me the news. How last April, the boys lost their mom due to a pulmonary embolism. I don't know this family other than them coming into the library from time to time. And they haven't been in on a regular basis for quite some time (even before the tragedy.) Life gets busy and other things take priority. But I had no clue that these boys' mother had passed away. She was 31. Jacob won't remember her. His brother will, at best, have snapshots of memories in his mind.

     All day long I kept thinking about them. About her, their mom. And how she's missing out on seeing all the wonderful, and not-so-wonderful, things her kids are going to do in their life. How she's not going to see so many firsts, so many smiles, so many tears. She's going to miss out on the laughter of life and the snuggly hugs and kisses and all the silly moments.And those boys. They are going to miss out mommy hugs, kisses, snuggles, advice, tears of happiness, tears of frustration, fun times, not-so-fun times...

     Needless to say I was a bit emotionally exhausted at the end of the day. I just wanted to go home and relish in the fact that I'm still here. Yes, bills are due. Yes, school is happening. Yes, work is demanding. Yes, I'm tired. Yes, I get frustrated. But I'm here. I get to hear "MOOMMMYYY!" when I go to pick up Zoe-bug from the sitter. I get to go hunt down Eli at the Boys and Girl's Club and make him upset that he doesn't get his turn on the X-box. I get to deal with first grade frustration from a boy because I "don't do homework like Daddy." I still get to pour that glass of wine while he's wailing in his room because I tried doing homework in the wrong order. I still get to be told by Zoe that "Mommy, you're yelling." Yes. Those types of moments can suck. And suck the life out of you. But I still have them. I also still get the night time story reading, the hugs and kisses, and the "I'm sorry we couldn't get along earlier" moments (for real, that was a sincere apology from Eli at bedtime).

     I'm still here. They're still here. Good. Bad. All the in-betweens.

1, 2, Buckle My Shoe {A Little of the Mom Life}

My kids are 4 & 6. And they are amazing little creatures. Mostly.




These are my lovelies. Eli, 6. Zoe, 4. They absolutely adore, and annoy, each other.

But let's take yesterday, for example. I'm not entirely certain that amazing would have been a word I used to describe my little bundle of joys. As anyone who has any experience with children - their own or others' - they know that little ones (and big ones) aren't exactly angels 24/7. Don't let those peeps on Facebook/Instagram/Twitter fool you. ;)


So. Yesterday. I wake my son up first. He's the 6 year old. A first grader who loves school, misses his friends when he's not there, but also loves staying home, snuggles, and playing with his sister and cousin. There was a two hour delay when we got up. I got breakfast ready, we went through the whole packing of the lunch routine and getting dressed, teeth brushed, etc etc. I knew there was a chance school would be cancelled. In hindsight, I may not have wanted to mention that to this particular six year old. But whatever. It was time to go. And given my propensity to stay in bed until the literal last minute possible, it was time to go. I say "get your shoes on." This is a regular, nearly daily, occurrence. Nothing new. Eli says "Which ones should I wear?" I say, "Well, there's snow on the ground and it's really cold out, so I would think you would want to wear your snow boots so your feet stay warm and dry." Insta-tears. And I mean a full-on-wailing-meltdown:

"I *sniff* don't *sniff* want *sniff* to *sniff* wear *sniff* my *sniff* boots!"

I suggested he take shoes to change into, even offered to send a bag for the wet snow boots... For the next ten to fifteen minutes (yes, unfortunately it took thatlong), I discovered that (all according to him) his teacher wouldn't let him change into his tennis shoes to wear those at school and that he was afraid that other kids would make fun of him because they weren't the shoes he normally wears. Oh, and my suggesting he wear snow boots was me telling him he had to wear snow boots. Finally, after some *ahem* yelling on my part, some near butt-spanking, he stopped crying, but not moping, and we were out the door. Only to discover ten minutes later that school was cancelled for the day. Elation ensued on his part. (Until I dropped him off at my sister-in-law's house and he realized that, since we thought he was going to school, he didn't have GiGi - his blankie. Whoops.)


And this morning? Another two hour delay. I say "Time to get shoes on," a little hesitantly. I don't know that I can deal with another morning like that this soon. He says, and I quote, "I'll wear my snow boots so my feet stay warm. And dry. I don't want snow in my shoes." I just look at him. He continues on to say, "And since we have gym I'll take my tennis shoes so I can change into them. Can I have a bag for my shoes?" What the - WHAT?!


*sigh*  Ahhh... the joys. I can laugh now. But last nite required a half bottle of wine and some mindless television.