I'd taken a hiatus from blogging about my life, because well, free time isn't something that's been on my plate post-introduction of a fourth dependent (three children and one lucky, limpy geriatric dog) in our home. In fact I've blogged once in the sweet seven months that our new addition has been adding to the crazy contents of our home, and even then I'm certain that post was typo-ridden and incoherent, due to my extreme sleep deprivation which hasn't gotten much better since. After some introspection and Jack Handy-style "Deep Thoughts", I've come to accept that this blog is mundanely monotonous and the only people who are kind enough to feign interest are those that are unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of my ramblings or those dear to my heart that indulge me. You, dear reader, are way too kind to be here. Thank you.
My brain is swimming - swimming in a sea of motherhood. Motherhood, I've decided is actually what I like to call a "sanity sabbatical." Once one becomes a mother, she is forevermore destined to be this side of sane. Which side, you ask? Well, that can vary depending upon the locale of the mother (for instance - Is she in a Walmart? Or a Pediatrician's office awaiting shots?), the temperament of her children (Are they repeatedly arguing with each other? Or incessantly begging for things at said Walmart?), the support in her peer network (How many days until Book Club? Sadly, I do look forward to "Book" Club.), and the beverage in her glass at the end of the day (Is it a Winesday?).
All jokes aside, I wouldn't change who I am at all. I am happy to be a mom - quite proud actually - Even when my oldest is over-tired, over-extracuricularred & embarrassingly tantrumming on the sidelines of a basketball game, because he wants the coach to put him "BACK IN NOW!" Competition is in his Killer Rose's maternal genes and Orange Blooded paternal Clemson genes, and he can throw down some defense, y'all. Even when I assist my darling diva daughter with her third costume change of the hour, because she's done being a princess and "wants to be a 'cheetah cat' - GRRRRR..." Yes, anyone lucky enough to witness her Abbeytude in high gear will tell you that she does in fact growl. Perseverance is in her genes which will someday make her a strong willed woman fit for the role of first female President. God bless her future husband's heart. Or when I'm about to put my baby in a shopping cart and as I pull him from his car seat I discover he's ripe with poo and must be changed in the chilly parking lot first as he's too good for those public changing stations which means he'll be hungry in twenty minutes which means my shopping trip has just been reduced by at least ten minutes...doodie IS what's in his jeans, and thanks to Stage 2 foods, it's fantastic.
My poor kids have spent way too much time with their Type A mama who is desperately trying to uphold and exhibit patience daily. Any pointers on the matter from other mothers (or from fathers that try to understand us mothers but never will) would be greatly appreciated.
See, rambling - I'm good at it. Lately I've even cast aside my English major and accepted tangents and run-on sentences as acceptable communication (the above paragraph is proof). One of the many nicknames given to me over the years was Ramble On Rose, and I actually like that one.
I believe these ramblings are therapeutic for me. They're much like exposure therapy. I put myself and my ramblings out here so you can laugh along (or laugh at me) & hopefully get some free therapy, too (or you can silently judge me) whilst I get to the right side of sane. Or is it the left side?
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| Taken post-diaper change - ripe diaper is on lower right next to Mom's treat from Starbucks bound for the trash He sure looks happy to be going to Walmart. That's one of us... Thanks to his charming Walmart guests on every aisle I am happy to have survived this one of many shopping trips with him in tow. If it wasn't for the one old lady that touched his arm, it would have been a truly peaceful excursion. Rambling. Again... Jerry making sense of my rambling: "The grass ain't greener. The wine ain't sweeter - either side of the hill."
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