NBCs Parenthood - Everything you want in feel-good TV

“I thought I could do it all...but I can't, not now, anyway.”  This from Julia Braverman-Graham, the working mom on my favorite TV show – Parenthood (NBC, Tuesdays, 10pm/9pmCST). 

What I love the most about this show is how well it handles the REALITY of parenthood. You laugh and you cry during this one hour show. You learn things.  You enjoy.  

Julia, soon-to-be partner of her law firm, has always handled being a working mom seamlessly.  Recently, she and her husband Joel adopted an 11-year-old boy.  (They already have a precocious 5-year-old daughter who is used to being the center of their attention.) So in last night’s episode, I was so happy to see Julia losing her mind. Not in a mean way.  But in a relieved, sort of way.  The noise that the children made, the chaos in the morning. She’s trying to juggle everything.  And she’s the type that knows she can.  She can do it all!  Until she can’t.  She has a slight breakdown during breakfast that frenzied morning and she’s been slipping up at work.  So bad that the partners of the firm call her into a meeting in the middle of her son’s baseball game (Gasp! Her leaving the game shocks her large family who all lives close by and happen to have their schedules free to ALL be at this game – that’s the only thing about the show that is hard to believe.  They all get together so much,  so conveniently.  Who knows, maybe that is real but just not my reality since I don’t live close to my family.)  

 

Anyway, in the meeting they tell her, if you still want to be considered for partner, you’re going to have to give us all of you.  You can see the hurt in her face as she wagers her own identity and goals versus her role as mom.  But she knew, as we all know, you can have it all, just not all at once.  Something has to give.  So she said to them, heartbroken, but knowing she’s made the right decision, “I thought I could do it all...but I can't, not now, anyway.”  

Reality!  So many television shows, even the reality shows, have a hard time trying to get down to the root of what is so real. But Parenthood does it with finesse. I feel happier every  time I watch an episode.  You should tune in!  Relatable brings relief.

Man Publicly Shames 3-Year-Old Daughter

I’m not sure if you’ve seen the picture of a 3-year old girl on the internet (link to copy below article). Her father put a shame sign around her neck and posted it, thinking he’d be funny by noting it could be used her in her senior yearbook.  While some people, (eh, the sane people!) are calling is terrible, others are disagreeing, arguing it’s discipline.  One news channel’s title says; Cute or Cruel? Cute? Unbelievable!! Discipline?  Seriously people? Let’s call this what it is, and that’s shitty parenting. 

What example are you setting for your child here? That it’s okay for people to publicly shame her.  Make fun of her.  Taunt and ridicule her.  It’s acceptable, because her father would do it.  Nice job daddy, you are really setting up her for a future filled with confidence and prosperity.  Not to mention the damage you are doing regarding the potty training process period. You are supposed to make the entire training-thing a positive experience.  Not a humiliating one.  They are already embarrassed enough when they have an accident.  Isn’t that enough?  They are babies for goodness sakes.  Who cares if they have an accident?  You are supposed to be their parent and love and care for them.  We all are potty trained at some point…why make such a simple offense turn into such a terrible experience?! It’s disgusting! 

Let’s talk about you, the father here.  Don’t tell me you’ve never had one of those moments when you couldn’t make it to the bathroom.  Maybe it was too much spicy food.  And you couldn't hold it.  I know you’ve been there.  Maybe we should have strapped a big sign on your chest, posted your photo all over the internet that you Sh#T yourself.  Maybe you're the one that needs to be humiliated. 

I’m not against discipline people.  What I’m against is abuse.  I’m against treating children poorly.  I’m against inhumane acts against children.  Where do you draw the line? Shaming another human being is unacceptable.  Shaming a child is horrific.

I tear up at the thought of my little girl or sweet baby boy being on the internet to be mocked at.  I don’t care the offense, it absolutely appalls me.  Even if I’m on the softer side, my husband, a firm believer in spanking, would be offended by this. He loves his children and would never, ever do anything to publicly embarrass them, or open the door for others to do the same.

What’s next? Public Lashings as discipline?  Beatings as acceptable?  This is not acceptable.  Somebody, somewhere, needs to do something.  If anything, take her poor face off the internet and give that jerk a good scolding...in the very least.

We are supposed to be raising our children to be successful; instilling confidence, the ability to trust, forgiveness, humility, respect, love.  How does his actions fall under any of those?  It doesn't!  It’s time to wake up America, we are raising our future here.  We complain about what our world’s coming too, but look at some of the supported parenting tactics! 

~Trina

http://www.myfoxphoenix.com/story/19696139/2012/10/01/dad-shames-daughter-with-i-pooped-sign. 

Dream Catchers

  “Mommy, I had a terrible dream last night.”  Callie looked up at me as she solemnly recounted the dream  filled with witches and monsters, all the while playing with the bubbles in the bathtub.

  “Honey, it’s okay to have bad dreams sometimes,” I encouraged as I scrubbed the soap into her scalp.  Even though they are unpleasant, they are not real and we always wake up.” 

She closed her eyes as the warm water rinsed her hair.  Her eyes popped open and matter of factly she pointed out:  “Mommy—that dream catcher you gave me doesn’t work!”

  The fascinating part of this story was I’d given her the dream catcher nearly a year earlier, and we’d had only one conversation where I explained its purpose. Native American legend has it that good dreams slip through the web of a dream catcher during the night, and bad dreams become caught in the web and are perished by morning light.   It hung on her bed as a permanent fixture…and I’d still completely forgotten about it and assumed Callie had too.

  I was amazed by the memory of my 3 year-old at the time…and somewhat sad too.  I’d given her something she’d truly counted on and it had let her down.  I now think twice now before making promises of anything that has to do with folklore...or anything else for that matter that I'm not 100% confident in!  ~Trina

And Then There Was Kindergarten...

The majority of us strive to be great parents.  We do our best to prepare our children for life, for failure and success, for love and heartache, for the ups and down they will inevitably face as time goes on.  Each stepping stone is one to be proud of; each new tooth, or smile...each word or sentence said with glee.  We think these days will last forever...even though we're told time and time again they won't.

The first day of Kindergarten was one I knew would be emotional and exciting.  I prepared mentally for it at preschool graduation, as trivial as that may sound to some.  In anticipation of the big day, we prepared the backback, the outfit.  We painted nails and discussed hairstyles.  We planned on the a.m. photo-ops, for there would be pictures to remember this moment.  The only thing I hadn't planned on was the gigantic, black eye Callie got falling down at Walmart the Saturday before...however that was a small speck in the horizon compared to the huge changes that awaited us.

I made pancakes, and we ran around like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to get in our new routine.  Clayton was tired and didn't want to get up; Shannon was hustling after me and instructing me constantly we will be late if you don't hurry, as if he was used to getting up and getting the kids ready everyday.  Callie walked out the door with a belly full of her favorite breakfast, her hair curled perfectly, and a different outfit than I'd picked out...a much plainer one than I preferred, but a cute one all the same.  We were ready.

We walked our five-year-old up to the school along with hundreds of other parents, ready to confront this new phase in life.  Clayton didn't have pants on, and I had wild hair and smudged mascara.  We may have looked like the trashy, crazy parents we all eye with their children in Walmart and wonder if we should call CPS...but we didn't care.  This was our day.  My baby's day.  I heard all the thoughts running through my brain-Have you succeeded mom? Have you truly prepared her for everything she will face? Is she ready for the trials and tribulations school is sure to bring?

I kissed Callie goodbye, and Callie being Callie, barely noticed.  She was already ready to have fun and play...make new friends and enjoy the newness of school.  I didn't blink a tear.  I'd cried the night before a little when I thought about dropping her off, a little sniffle...sniffle...and then it was over.  I did cry on the ride home though when Clayton kept asking for his sister.  Sissy!  Sissy!  And of course I welted up again when he ran first thing into her room after we got home and crawled under her covers in her pink bed.  How could I help it?

We are only on day two, and I'll have you know, I'm not crying.  I'm preparing a schedule and getting ready to plan some great things for Clayton and I to enjoy together...just the two of us. I'm excited for Callie to start bringing home school work and other things that will keep her brain going; keep her busy.  I'm ready to help assist in the classroom and PTA as needed, even though I never really pictured myself a PTA mom...I want to be involved.

I'm realizing and accepting; I am so that mom.  I'm the crying, sniffling, bumbling idiot I always made fun of before I had kids.  Why is she crying?  They are in preschool!  They still have naps!  Good lord. What will she do when they graduate from highschool or get married?  Have a heart attack?  Well, I may just have a heart attack, thank you very much!   ~Trina

The End to an Epic Summer

I've always wondered what it would be like to spend a summer at home with my children.  To not have to bash heads and battle to the end over a week off when all the other mom's children were also out of school. To know that spring breaks, fall breaks, Christmas break...they are all mine with my kiddos.  What a fabulous feeling.  No trying to get it on the calender first, or hoping there's enough coverage at the office.  Just making plans and looking forward to time with my family.  I'm almost still not sure it's really real.

By the time I figured out I should enjoy myself, I truly to not have to go back to the hustle and bustle of my previous life, summer was fading away. We finally have figured out somewhat of a schedule (schedule, ha! we hang out in our pj's somedays till noon!), and it's time to change again.  Going to bed early, getting up earlier, taking Callie to school.  Getting Clayton in a schedule of being home without his sister.  Gymnastics. Sports.  Life.  And I'm sure just as I figure out how to handle that, it will be winter break, or summer again before we know it.  Life flies by, and if you aren't paying attention...you won't catch all the unforgettable moments.

As we school shop and prepare for this next phase, everyone is excited.  Callie is happy about meeting new friends and just school in general.  I'm excited about having time with Clayton by myself; just mommy and son time, and seeing Callie in her element - a social setting..  Shannon's excited to see Callie learn and thrive as we're sure she'll do in school.  However, intertwined with this excitement is a bit of sadness.  I'm a bit reluctant to let go of this summer.  Of the first phase of this new life I've begun.  The excitement and dreams about a new future for me.  The endless moments with my kids swimming, hiking, fishing, or just hanging out. Spending time with the best of friends and neighbors.  The end of our new beginning.  I know beautiful and amazing times are in our future, but this is one epic summer I'm going to hold on to, forever.  I thank God I had the opportunity! ~Trina

Why Mommies Can't Get Sick

I don’t care what anyone says, modern day mommies are the head of households.  They make schedules happen, meal plans happen, often times do the grocery shopping, take care of the bills, make sure everyone has clean underwear, clean teeth and so forth.  And some work full-time jobs too.

Men are so important, of course I have to say that.  Often times they do help with household chores, the outdoor work, the car oil and so forth.  They make important decisions and are the mainstay behind discipline.  If I have car trouble or any mechanical issues I automatically start freaking out…because I know nothing.  I call my husband and he’s calm, cool and collected and can normally fix any issue with me over the phone.  He comes up with great problem solving ideas, and altogether is a great partner for me.  I fly by the seat of my pants when needed; he plans everything with the utmost thought and care (even if it is last minute).  But when it comes to the glue that holds the family together? That’s mommy, and I’m sure all men would agree with me.

So that’s why as mommies we can’t get sick.  We have this maternal instinct when our children are sick to care for and baby them.  Men don’t have a maternal instinct.  So when we get sick, we are wasting our time beating our (hurting) heads against a wall wondering why they won’t take care of us like our moms did.  They are asking us when dinner will be done, or should they just go pick something up (hint, hint, will you cook)?  Rather than shoot invisible darts at them with your eyes, remember they have never been moms.  That’s why when they are sick, they act like babies.  They had their mommies to care for them!  We did too, but now…our mommies are gone.  We are the moms. 

There are a few women who are reading this thinking my husband is so great, he waits on me hand and foot when I’m sick.  Well if you aren’t newly wedded and you have children – you are lucky.  The rest of you are reading this laughing or nodding because we’re all in the same boat.

On Monday I started having severe pain with my menstrual cycle.  Since this happened with my last cycle, I was concerned.  It wasn’t until I doubled over in pain and nearly threw up, my husband took me seriously.  While he was being helpful, I could tell he truly didn’t understand my need to lie in bed all day.  While that pain eventually subsided with pain medication; a severe throat and vomiting came on later.  I heard him at one point hollering at the children to watch their movie while he watched his hunting show.  I came unglued…

“You seriously want them to watch another minute of TV when you are going to go to work tomorrow with me feeling like crap and that’s all they are going to do?  You are really going to watch hunting shows while the dishes are piled up in the sink and the kids made messes around you – knowing I will have to clean it all up later?  Seriously?” I screamed at him, while I went in to get both our kids to play a learning card game.  I was furious.  He looked at me in dismay, then got up and did the dishes, and helped pick up.  Later, he took the kids outside to play.

I think men just don’t get it in general.  I do more around the house sick with kids in a day then he does if he’s watching them for a day perfectly healthy. He doesn’t cook or clean.  He doesn’t remember to brush their teeth, and if he puts them to bed, usually only one of them gets a book.  I come home to a disaster and he’s looking at me like, hello, I just had both kids!  They just aren’t programmed to do what we do. 

So rather than throw myself a little pity party knowing I’m destined to never be sick and pampered again (you’d think I’d know this after over  7 years of marriage), I have to come to grips with the fact that men aren’t women.  They aren’t moms.  Shannon, if he was nurturing like a woman, would fail in many other areas I need him to be manly in.  I would plain not be attracted to someone who would rather run around the house and clean and cook than be outside shooting his bow or be in the outdoors in general.  I also know many friend’s husbands who go out to guys night when their wives are sick.  So if he’s home watching the hunting channel, that’s better than being out drinking beer somewhere – although I feel the need to say I wouldn’t be with someone who left me when I was sick to go out drinking beer…just sayin.

So I’ve decided to do as I always do, write to my other mommy friends and whine like we often do over a glass of wine together - why is it that mommies aren’t allowed to be sick?  It’s not fair! 

~Trina

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

  I had my second breakdown of the week, and it was only Tuesday. 

  My four-year-old was crying and throwing a fit because the clothes I’d picked out for her weren’t jiving with her mood for the day.  She wanted a dress (in the middle of winter, mind you), and I’d picked out an adorable pair of skinny jeans, a pink sweater, and boots.  Rather than give in to my bartering like she usually does over clothes, she stood firm.  It would be a dress or nothing she told me in the strongest preschool voice she could muster.  I rolled my eyes and marched out to find my son to get him dressed.  I walk into his room; clothes strewn everywhere.  My little two-year-old also had his own fashion agenda, and it didn’t include getting dressed anytime soon. 

   We should’ve left the house ten minutes ago, I thought as his diaper came flying.  I sigh and give in, yelling at my daughter to throw a dress on; I really didn’t care at this point.  She claps in glee at her small victory, as I silently curse.  I know this will only mean trouble tomorrow morning.

   I wrestle my son down while he screams and writhes as I fight to put his diaper on.  By the time I’d finally found a pair of sweatpants in the piles of clothes on the floor, it was too late to find a matching sweatshirt.  I told myself that for one day…he didn’t have to match.

   After about five minutes of full on screaming (and maybe a curse word or two), I had both kids buckled in their carseats, ready to head out.  Tears were starting to form behind my eyes at the thought of being late, once again.  It was snowing and there was no way I could speed.

   Out of the backseat I hear a yelp.  “Bubba pooped mommy!  It stinks real bad.” 

   I sigh, put my keys back in my purse, and pick up my phone. 

   “Yes, hello Sandy.  I just wanted to let you guys know I won’t be coming in today.  Yes, yes, both kids are sick.  Thank you, yes, we will get some rest.  I hope to see you tomorrow.”   

~Trina

Optimistic? Or Just Plain Dumb Parenting?

It's amazing how dumb we can be as parents.  I mean, seriously.  It's as my good friend Iryna always says; insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.  I'm pretty sure I've gone way beyond insane...a long time ago!

For example, I've learned time and time again that no matter what toy the kids get (and regardless of how much they loved it at a friends house) they will only play with it a few times and then it will sit in the toybox.  The only exception to this rule is Clayton's toy trucks.  All the other toys, including the kid computers so he will stop banging on my keyboard, collect dust.  Yet somehow, in desperate times of bribery, I will purchase Callie another barbie, almost identical to her other 600 plastic dolls, in hopes it may buy me quiet time or whatever it is I need.

Or, for example, the playset we have in our backyard.  It cost a pretty penny, and took many man-hours and a lot of effort to get put together.  Shannon even made a sandbox out of the area, and to me, it looked like kiddie-playland heaven.  I just knew they'd play on it for hours and hours...I'd have to drag them off of it.  Of course, the excitement lasted a few days, and now, we have to urge them to play on it.  They'd rather scale the huge, dangerous boulders behind the playset.  Of course!  How predictable.

Another great example is our most recent trip to the library.  I knew Clayton would be a handful (as he always is in new environments), but figured he'd get excited about the animal books, like he does at home and calm down enough to maybe even get Callie to be able to do pre-school reading time.  Ha!  He was so excited about the "new" funland, he screamed and ran around like a wild barbarian, climbing and jumping off chairs. I couldn't get him to look at a book, let alone let me read him one.  Luckily, Callie got a few books picked out before we got kicked out.

And, the other day I was taking both kids to see a dear old friend with my mom.  She has horses, and Callie misses having horses so much.  I knew Clayton would be super excited as well, and expected a fun-filled day.  When we got there, both kids took off immediately to explore.  Clayton fell down and hurt himself, crying for at least ten minutes.  Callie hadn't slept well in days and was snarky, talking back and exhausting my patience.  Clayton didn't want me to hold him around the horses- Mr. Independent wanted to pet them like sissy was, all by himself.  So I was constantly on edge, wondering who would get stepped on first.

For the fourth of July, we are going camping with some friends.  I picture us hiking and fishing, making smores (somehow, there is a fire ban...) and swimming together in the lake.  Only the slightly intelligent side speaks from somewhere beneath telling me that the heat is going to wipe us out (it's been in the 100's); the younger girls aren't going to go down for naps and thus they are going to be nightmares...and that the dust and grime caked on my kids is nearly going to be enough to send me over the edge.

Is it my optimistic side that comes out or are other parents like me and we just continue to practice dumb parenting?  I'm not sure, but I do know one thing; I always see the glass as half-full, so to be realistic when it comes to child-rearing could only mean being negative...which just isn't in my blood.

I'll continue buying Callie her barbies or whatever when she deserves a toy, because that's what she wants, no matter how often she plays with them.  The smile on her face and her excitement is well worth the stack of growing plastic in our toys bins.  I'll keep taking Clayton to the library, hoping practice and discipline brings better behavior- and look forward to the day he'll sit and let me read him that book, a day I'll cherish.  I'll continue to look forward to these camping or other family trips with friends - as though it will be the time of our lives, regardless of how the previous trip might have went.

Parenting is insanity, period.  Let us at least continue to be optimistic and look forward to each day, regardless of what experience might teach us.  ~Trina

Keeping Up with the Cleavers...or Not So Much

Dear June, I must say, I'm exhausted.  I would like to know, how did you do it?  Did you take a small dose of crack-cocaine each morning?  Or did you simply drink coffee until you crashed?  


So, I'm thinking I'm going to be really skinny on this new path I've chosen.  I rarely sit down, because I'm running constantly.  If I sit down to eat, I'm getting back up because one of my children needs something.  Eating, what's eating?  Yesterday I realized I didn't even have breakfast by the time lunch started.  People have constantly asked me, "aren't you afraid you will get bored staying  home?"  Ha, fat chance!  I don't have time to think, let alone get bored.  I'll go crazy and they'll have to give me meds before I get bored.  By the time the kids are getting ready for nap, I'm so desperately in need of a nap myself that there will be no quiet time for me, at least now.  All I need is sleep.

I will say, while I'm exhausted, and not quite used to answering the constant calls of mommy this or mommy that, I'm having a great time.  I already have a tan from being outside with the kids in the pool.  My flowers are looking amazing, because I have the time to mess with them, not look at them with disdain when I get home from a long day at work.  While my house isn't cleaner per say, I definitely have time to pick it up as we go, which is a totally new concept for me.  Last night, we stayed up till 9:30 and played ladders, an outdoor game I'm actually pretty darn amazing at, while the kids ran around and played (Clayton, as naked as a jaybird).  Then, we all came in and had homemade icecream.

I feel myself morphing into this different person.  My goal was to focus on my kids this summer, and then this fall really push for my writing career to launch.  Of course, time is money in that business so I have to focus on it to a small degree at least until then - but I've realized something important this last week and a half; I'm focusing on me, even while chasing around two wild kiddos.  I ran outside yesterday a.m. without the worry of time.  I did my ab work out.  I took a nap.  I researched some new markets I'm going to query for articles.  I drank my coffee and let the kids wake up at their own leisure.  I'm, healing.

Healing from what you ask?  Healing my wounds from a life full of stress, hustle, and bustle.  Healing from the guilt of missing so many important moments with my children (I smile with glee to see what Mr. Clayton has in store for me today-he's talking up a storm now).  Healing from thinking I constantly have to be perfect, and do everything perfect.  Healing from the daily, choking fear I'd have to do something for the rest of my life that I didn't love.

In the meantime, Mrs. Cleaver, I could I get some of that crack?  I have a long day today.

~Trina

Different Kids, Different Ages, Different Stages...It's ALL GOOD!

Admit it...you've been one of those moms.  The mom who's child is talking first, going on the potty first, walking first...whatever.  Even if you have enough willpower to not say it out loud, you've definitely thought it.  "Oh, John's walking already?  What is he, 12 months?" you say, then think to yourself, my Sally was walking at 8 months!  Even if we aren't competitive, it's part of our nature as mothers to want our children to do well and be the best at everything they do.  


Callie started walking at 9 months old.  She started out walking along tables and couches, and before long, she was taking steps unassisted.  Then, she was talking.  When I say talking, I mean, chatting up a storm.  I was constantly amazed at how we were having conversations so early on.  We started potty training at the age of 2, and while she still had accidents throughout the year (and still do sometimes), she was fully potty trained by the time she was 3 years old.  She became advanced at everything she tried almost immediately; puzzles, games, sports of any kind.  We have always been so proud.  I tried not to be one of those moms....but often times I failed miserably.


Then came along Clayton.  While he started sleeping through the night at 6 months old (Callie didn't until she was 2), everything else was much slower.  He didn't crawl until he was 7 months old, much different than Callie, although I can't remember her exact age, I know it was sooner.  He didn't walk until he was 12 months old, and now he's 2 and still not talking a whole lot, he just screams "mommy" and points when he wants something.  If I don't understand what he wants, Callie translates.  When it comes to puzzles or games, he throws them.  Books, he rips the pages, while Callie sits patiently, waiting to actually hear the story.  Potty training?  Ha!  Not even in the cards yet-he runs when I even want to change his diaper...or mention the toilet.


You always hear, all children are different.  But, I'm not sure we really get it.   Studies show crawling or scooting can begin somewhere around 3-6 months, and is normal to be seen at 6-9 months.  Normal walking ages begin from 9 months, up to 15 months.  While 18 months is a little late, it could just be unusual and not a sign your child is significantly behind or that something is wrong.    From 18 to 24 months, (though there is a lot of variability) most toddlers are saying about 20 words by 18 months and 50 or more words by the time they turn 2. By age 2, kids are starting to combine two words to make simple sentences, such as "baby crying" or "Daddy big." A 2-year-old should also be able to identify common objects, common pictured objects, indicate body parts on self when labeled, and follow two-step commands (such as "Please pick up the toy and give it to me").


Am I going to have a breakdown or feel Clayton is completely behind because he's not talking as fast as his sister, or because he's behind what experts say is normal?  No.  Maybe I would have with Callie, but after two children I've learned that there are too many variables.  If you notice the statistics above, there's one similarity: they vary greatly in age.  There's no way for an expert to tell you the exact month a child should be doing this or that, because they all are different and grow at different paces.  Throw a sibling into the mix, and you have an entirely new set of variables.  Callie constantly is answering for Clayton, or asking questions for him.  The poor boy doesn't have time to talk half the time because his sister is chatty kathy! 

Stop comparing not only yourself as a mom, but your child to other people's children.  I guarantee your child is going to excel in some areas and do some things quicker - whether it be potty training or learning to read.  Then, there will be areas other children will do better in or do faster than your child.  It's an obvious conclusion, but one we still have a difficult time grasping as mothers.  I can't tell you how often I hear, "but, so and so's child is doing this.  I must be doing something wrong."  Including myself.  We aren't doing something wrong.  Our children are just huge blessings from God, and have their own agendas as far as how fast or slow they are going to advance.  Lets revel and support their growth, no matter what the pace.

~Trina

Babysitting Woes & Eric Church

Am I seriously the only one with babysitting issues?  I mean...really.
I can't be the only one who doesn't live close to family and struggles every time I actually want to go somewhere with my husband.  But...it definitely feels that way.

When friends invite us anywhere as a couple, I'm thinking....either I'm going alone or we have to shell out $100 at the very least.  It's like okay, it's worth it because every marriage needs it.  Girl time is also needed, for less than a $100...hmmm...and Shannon usually agrees because he'd rather hang out with the kids than attend most of my social, dysfunctional gatherings.

Last weekend we attended the Eric Church concert with our friends Amber and Jeff Wissing.  Of course, they had family to watch their children.  And, our babysitter suddenly had much cooler plans than heading to our house at noon so we could drive the three hour trek to Denver to watch the concert.  I was struggling with whether I should plan on going alone...or bagging out altogether if we couldn't find someone.  Thus the life of a mommy and daddy far away from any family.

Luckily, my friend Amber saved the day as always.  She called a few people, including her daycare provider's daughter, who agreed to keep my kids.  Because Amber trusted these people, I knew I could.  And, they ended up being some of the best sitters we've had to date.  Thanks Amber!!!

The minute we left the house, I started to feel the stress leaving.  I'm a party girl at heart and love a great time!  Shannon immediately started worrying though, so I had to work on squashing his fears and convince him our kids would be fine.  Soon, he was on board, and after we'd met up with Amber & Jeff, we were on our way to parental freedom.

The concert was amazing.  I love a country singer who can sing with a unique twang about drinking Jack Daniels and Jesus saving him all in one breath.  You see, I relate to that!

We danced, drank, and just enjoyed one another's company.  The concert was held in an outdoor ampitheatre of red rock (it's also called Red Rocks...imagine that). It was beautiful, to say the very least.  If you know Eric Church, you know he's an amazing performer...and at the very end...he sang one of my favorites, Springsteen.  He had everyone open their phones (much safer than lighters I'm sure!) and sing along.  The entire crowd became one mystical, swaying group as the lights from their phones glowed down toward the stage.  I felt like I was in heaven!

The next day, we hurried home to reach our children...whom were having so much fun, they didn't even want to leave with us.  Go figure.  We looked at eachother on the drive home while the kids were bickering with one another about sharing a toy...and our eyes told what our mouths couldn't say; back to the craziness.

You see, our children will sustain and survive...and likely even have more fun with us being gone.  The real people that we need to worry about our ourselves.
Shannon told me something after that concert that made me really think, he said; "Trina, you really are a lot of fun."  Translated to; "you're normally a bitchy pain in the arse who's always stressed out.  It was nice to get back to the real you for a night."

$150 later for the babysitter...not mentioning food, drinks, the concert tickets and gas....we're still ahead. Whether for a happy marriage or just pure insanity relief...a break is always much needed and fully accepted.  ~Trina

Doing it All

I am often asked by friends and family how I do it all.  They want to know how the heck I take two young children to two different places in the morning, make it to work, work an 8 hour day, then turn around, get both kids…head home…cook a home cooked meal, then clean the kitchen, give baths, story-time…etc, etc.  You get the point.

So I got all geared up to write this article.  And my fingers hovered over the keyboard for several minutes…and nothing.  How do I do it?  How am I not nuts…or, maybe I am nuts but how am I still doing it all.  I could give you my daily schedule, tell you I’m not stressed most of the time, that I have it all figured out and hold it all together.  That I know exactly all the secrets to time management and organization.  I know the tricks to multitasking and ultimately always get the job done.  But—that would be total BS!

There are days I wake up and am threatening to rip both my children’s heads off (you think I’m kidding!) if they don’t get a move on it.  Callie loves to sleep in and is a bear cat in the morning!  Clayton isn’t much better.  I can’t count the days I’ve driven to work crying because I was going to be late, the kids just weren’t cooperating, I’d forgotten Callie’s lunch, or all the other things that could and did go wrong that morning. 

There’s also been many nights I’ve had breakdowns because my house wasn’t clean.  I have serious OCD about my house, and can’t handle it being dirty or messy.  Working full time and having two young children makes this nearly impossible…but I can’t convince my brain.  So, Shannon being the great husband he is helps extra that night, giving baths and helping me fold the laundry afterwards. 

The top tips to making my household run smoothly, when it does, are simple: make your menu for the week, then your grocery list by aisle.  If you want to cook healthy meals, you should be shopping on the outer skirts of the grocery store mainly (dairy, produce, fresh foods).  Do a load of laundry every other night.  Enlist your hubby’s help to split chores, then pick one day consistently to do them.  Our day is Saturday or Sunday am for floors, deep kitchen cleaning, and bathrooms.  The hubby should also be helping for bath nights, story nights, whatever works for you.  If you are a working mommy, then you should not be doing it all!  Some husbands cook (mine doesn’t, which is okay because I love cooking!)  so you can trade off cooking nights as well.  Have a schedule on your fridge for groceries, meals (then you remember what meats to take out to thaw) what you need to remember for your kids backpack the next day, lunches…so on and so forth.  Crock pot meals work great for soccer and basketball practice nights. 

I think the best tip of all is knowing your limits.  I know the amount of me time I require and if I don’t get it, then watch out!  It can get ugly.  Another thing to note is that I have more energy than most people…I can do five things at once as long as it gets the job done.  It may not be up to your standards, but it works for me!  I eat, type, clean, talk,  and think faster than the average person, because that’s how I’m made!  I’ve given up trying to slow down, although many of my bosses and friends have told me I need to.  This is how I am, and it’s the reason for so many of my strengths, including being able to do so much.   If you are detail oriented, meticulous person…your list will just have to be much shorter.   You take the time to make sure everything is in order and perfect, thus, there is just simply less time.  This is good too!

In addition...some great advice a friend once told me…do what works for you; stop trying to be someone else or do things the way they do (I guess this means I’ll never be Martha Stewart!  Crap!).   ~Trina

Finding Your Own Identity as a Mommy

I've decided to write this article because it's another one I feel quite passionately about.  Through having two children, both under the age of 5; being married 6 years and deciding that it's never always going to be a walk in the park; and finally deciding that I've  found what I want to be when I grow up...I've found my true self.  Not only as a person, but as a mom.

     Although I did get lucky in marrying a wonderful man at the age of 23, I've decided no woman should marry before she is 30 years old.  Seriously!  We don't even know who we are as a person yet.  How on earth can we know who we will be a as a wife?  And don't even get me started on going to college at 18.  At 18 years old I wanted to be a lawyer.  Ha!  I have a hard time sitting at a desk and focusing for 8 hours.  Researching laws, remembering details, working till 3 am....I'm already cringing.

     I became a mother at the age of 25.  Much too young I assure you, however if you'd known me at 13, you'd understand.  I was babysitting kids by the truckloads and wanted to have at least five kids by the time I was 30.  Again, at 25 I had no idea who I even was yet.  Let alone, who I wanted to be as a mom.  I saw other other moms in action, friends and relatives, and friends of friends.  I immediately judged and assumed I'd do better; I thought I had everything figured out.  

    I've written plenty of stories to explain to new moms and mothers of very young babies one important thing:  Do not judge other moms.  It will bite you right in the ass.  However, this article isn't focused on that so I won't go into it.  The point I'm making is that at 25, I had no flipping clue what kind of mother I was going to be.

    I thought being a mom entailed picking out the cutest outfits, making sure your babies had the healthiest foods; and assuring that your children partook in creating the latest crafts and putting together the age-appropriate puzzles.  Learning words, the ABC's, spelling their name; this all was part of who I would be as a mom as it represented who I wanted my children to become.

   Wrong!  In bright red letters, see the word WRONG!!!  Identity as a mother has nothing to do with what you teach your children or how smart your kids will be, or anything to do with what America's standards are for our society of mothers.  

    Your identity is who you become, what you create, what you want for you as a mom.  I learned fast I don't have the patience to sit through a full puzzle, so instead,  the majority of the time I teach them the ropes, then I watch with glee as they learn on their own.  I teach them the ABC's by singing to them, then watch as their little sponge brain's associate the song with the actual letters.  I play with each of my children as much as a I can, while still being myself as a wife; as a woman.  Let me tell you, that differs very much from how much my best friend, or my sister, or even my own mother played with her children. 

    I discipline my children very differently from other mothers, and of course I get advice every time I turn around.  Could I give you advice?   Sure!  But since you are not me, and your children are not mine, it could very well be a waste of both our times.  Find your way!  Find what works for your kids!

   I am amazed at the woman I've become; at the mother I see myself forming into every day while I mother and love my children.  Am I perfect?  Hell no.  But neither is that twit down the street that is pretending to be.  I'm owning up to being imperfect...that's just the way I am.  

  My advice is pick the books you enjoy reading to your child, and then the books they enjoy.  Choose the amount of TV you want for your children to watch; not what books and magazines say is appropriate.  Decide what form of discipline works for your family, not what works for your friends.  Cook the meals you feel comfortable feeding your family; if that includes fast food, so be it!  Everyone's situation is different.  Everyone of us is different.  You have to come up with what works for you.  I figure, as long as I know my identity; who I want to be as a mother and what I want to accomplish in that role- I am winning all the way around! ~Trina

    

Body Image ~ What It Means In the World of Parenting

What is body image? Wikipedia says: "Body image refers to a person's perception of the aesthetics and sexual attractiveness of their own body."  I say, it's much deeper than that. We blame the media for today's assumption of beauty.  Back in the day there was Marilyn Monroe and more recently, Tyra Banks, who have been replaced by much skinnier versions of beauty such as Kate Moss and Giselle Bundchen.  The depressing fact that America's view of perfection in a woman has been changed from a more round, curvy figure to that of a stick-thin-nearly non-existent being, is somewhat disgusting.  No offense, of course, to the women that are naturally thin and happy with it.  Quite honestly...wherever you are in life...if you are confident and happy with it; more power to you.  


So...where do we get so screwed up?  Society?  The Media?  Or is it much simpler than that? I think my childhood explains so much of what I now call-my "issues."  I've been told I'm an attractive person.  And I believe I am. Many of my physical attributes are desirable.  Big lips. Large, distinctive green eyes.  A smile that rarely goes unnoticed.  All that and a figure that would've been applauded back in those Marilyn Monroe days.  Yet I grew up on diets...on different fads and physique changing mentalities that have only further warped my already screwed-up sense of self.


I remember in seventh grade my skin started to break out.  Call it puberty, or whatever you like...but my skin had become zit-central.  Unfortunately, due to some not-so-great-genes...this trend continued beyond my period-starting and boob-growing days.  My mom immediately put me on birth control to rein in both the insane breakouts and the out-of-control periods I was facing.  Immediately, I went from an average seventh-grade body to a grown up, much-bustier and more well-rounded body.


My mother had faced criticism from her mother all her life.  So naturally, my mother also wanted me to be perfect.  She explained that hair was 80% of your looks, so I focused much time on curling or fussing with my hair; trying to get the most beautiful look.  I'll never forget the day she said, "Trina, your butt is looking big."  And to be honest, it was.  The birth control pills had kicked my hormones into overdrive; and my butt wasn't the only thing growing.  Don't completely blame it on my mom folks; nobody knew during those times the full affects of birth control.


In seventh grade, I went on my first diet.  The cabbage Soup diet was a big hit at the time, and my mother and I took it on like everyone else we knew.  From then on, I began my yo-yo with weight-control, and the love-hate relationship I had with my body.  The more I lost,the more control I had.  And I sure loved control.


There were some months I starved myself...and when low-carb came out?  A dream-come-true for the diet-addict!  I watched my weight deteriorate along with my health...and then bounce back up when I started eating normal again.
   
The main problem I have is wondering...honestly...would I have ever been overweight in the first place?  I mean, yes, maybe I gained a few pounds due to the circumstances, but would I have actually ever been fat?  Was there ever a true need to start dieting?


When I look in the mirror now, I see a strong, beautiful, curvy woman...most days.  I still feel the pull from those other days when I want to pinch my fat roll, throw away the bread and swear off carbs.  It's okay that I'm fucked up.  I mean...honestly...I can handle that.  I can control it.  


What I can't handle is thinking that my four-year-old is going to have the same, messed up thinking and lack of full-self confidence that I've battled my whole life.  So, in this, I make a promise to myself:  I promise to shut my mouth when I want to say un-positive things about my body image.  I promise to urge my daughter to be happy with herself, no matter how she looks or what she weighs.  I swear to inspire her to love her uniqueness...and focus on her strengths....and not so much what America considers her flaws.  I say...screw America and what it's portrayed as hot; because I'm thinking my much-rounder-than-popular ass is looking much more appealing.  And so is a confident body image.


I look to my friend Amber; a vision of confidence and perfection in herself.  She is no size zero; she is no "common" blonde beauty-yet she portrays what all of us woman desire: being secure in who we are, having confidence in what we were born with; and flaunting all we've got.  And with that oozes a gorgeousness no model could even attempt compete with.  Below is her version of how she is, well, the way she is.


~Trina

Body Image- by a happy & confident woman
A gift was passed on to me as a girl.  A secret message whispered in code so complex that I could not understand it at the time or decode it until recently.  My mother failed at many things. It is only in the last 5 years have I begun to understand her message and come realize that many of my friends did not hear the same voice.

Growing up my mother was at ease with her body.  She never was shy or apologized for her shape when I saw her naked, or dressed for that matter.  She was who she was and that was enough.  She never commented on my body either.  When I was crying in my room as an adolescent, she never said  “But you are the most beautiful girl in the world…you are perfect…you are skinny…you are_____________.”  She simply said “You are who you are.  Be the best you can be.”  Simple. Clear.  Possible.

I became that woman.

At 27 I had a baby.  There are many things that will never be the same, and by newly “arranged” body is one of them.  I began to hear my friends comment on their changing shapes or flaws promising to “swear off carbs” and “start working out everyday” in a effort to rid their bodies of those imperfections.  I did not identify.  Sure, we all have flaws or things we wished were different about our bodies.   Especially post-baby!  I accepted that as a part of life.  I was never a version of “perfect.”  I did not expect that of them or myself either.  We  as moms were becoming something else.  We were growing into ourselves.  My body is not perfect.  I had never had that illusion.  Looking back…I could have been easier on myself.  There was a time when I was just short of awesome-and now there is a new amazing.

My body has given life to two awe-inspiring girls.  In that process, my stomach and breasts have taken a toll!  However, I would not trade them for my flat tummy and perky boobs.  I am amazing, and sexy, and really fun on a dance floor. I look great in a black shirt and a push up bra.  I am not the teenager or 20-something anymore.  I am MORE. I am who I am….and I think she is pretty great…flaws and all.  I have earned these imperfections on my journey.

There will always be someone prettier.  Skinnier. More toned.  You go girl, be your best self…and I will be mine.  Nothing is sexier than confidence; so own it!


~Amber (Trina's fabulous & trusted friend)


We hope in this article that we will inspire women to stop trying to become America's version of beauty; and instead, create and honor their own...  Trina & Leah

The Seven Year Itch

The million dollar question is: what makes the difference between the happy marriage and the so-so marriage.  And, how far from so-so are you to the miserable marriage?  Haven’t we all been there?  We said our vows with a smile on our face and determination etched in our minds.  We swore we’d never be the “ones” who failed; we’d succeed and why wouldn’t we?  We were in love!

I call it the seven year itch.  Only because a close friend of mine explained it.  She said, after seven years, you get the itch.  You get the itch to test out new waters, to question why you said your “I do’s”  in the first place; the itch to wonder period.

I remember, as a newlywed, looking at her like she was crazy.  The itch?  What the hell is she talking about?  I married the greatest guy in the world!  Duh…there would be no itch here, thank you very much!

Okay, Earth to Trina, you weren’t born on a perfect planet and you definitely aren’t going to die on one.  Your marriage, just like everyone else’s, is susceptible to pain, heartache, and many other problems.  But not failure.  There will be no failure here.

Two years went without a hitch, hooray!  I was still in newlywed bliss.  Three years? Ha, no serious issues here!  We’d be celebrating our 80^th before you know it! Five years…well, maybe a bit of “not enough sex” from the hubby and “he doesn’t help enough around the house” from me, but for the most part, marital bliss.  Year seven?  okay, now it’s time to re-evaluate.

Do I truly believe that there is a certain time frame that a marriage can fall into serious downturn?  No…that’s so a load of crap.  What I do believe is, we all disconnect from the marriage at some point, usually when we are comfortable and used to one another.  I’m not saying disconnect like in Indecent Proposal, where we take our marriage vows to some un-matrimonial place.  We just…leave for a while.  Mentally.

He will say “Once we got married, we stopped having sex as much”.  She will say, “Once we had children, I got exhausted.  And, you stopped cherishing me as much.”  He will say, “Well, if you stopped nagging me all the time, I would show you more appreciation and help you more,” and you will say,  “If you stopped being so lazy I’d stop nagging!”

It’s an endless cycle where we are all pissed-off, nobody is having sex, and none of us are really feeling the love for one another.  We’ve forgotten that at one time we were a team, and now we are on the opposing side rather than partners.  This, my friends, is the seven year itch.

I don’t have all the answers, the cure-alls; the fix-it’s.  All I know is, I try to find a babysitter when I feel so angry I think splitting up is actually somewhat reasonable.  It’s funny, it takes about an hour or two of no kids pulling on my clothes, interrupting my every word…and the quiet….and I’m back to my old self again, or at least, almost there.   My husband and I can talk and we actually have fun.  We realize, oh yes, there is a reason we like one another, we did fall in love at one time.

Ultimately, there will be ups and downs.  Wonderful times and the inevitable ruts.  Take each day one at a time, committing to make it through to the end.  Choosing this path will keep you one step closer to being on the positive side of that nasty divorce statistic.  I know that I’m going to be really saggy and gray at some point, probably sooner rather than later.  My husband loves me for me, even through the aging and frumpiness all mothers endure.  And even through the stressful times, I plan on loving him like that too.  Real life, plain and simple includes the good, the bad and the ugly.  

~Trina

For Reality in Parenting Try NBC's "Up All Night" - New Fall Lineup

You had me at “Up All Night”.  

Finally, a show that refreshingly highlights REAL life after baby.  You’ve been there.  In the midst of changing a messy diaper, you’ve grabbed for a couple of wipes just to have a seemingly endless string of wipes ribbon out like some amateur magic trick.  You’ve foreshadowed fifteen years into the future envisioning the effects of your parenting on your free-spirited teen.  You’ve felt guilty for wishing for the good ol’ pre-baby days.

Admittedly, the biggest Saturday Night Live fan EVER (this fact has not yet actually been documented), so it’s not much of a surprise that I’m digging this show.  I identified with almost every scenario in the “Up All Night” pilot while LMAO.  You’ve got Maya Rudolph (Ava) who has been cracking me up since 2000.  She plays what I believe to be a pseudo-Oprah, though that may be my reliving her SNL Oprah days.  Of course, I’m a fan of Will Arnett’s (Chris) through association of marriage to his baby mama, SNL’s Amy Poehler.  Mix in a little Christina Applegate (Reagan) - well, a lot…she is the mom we’re all relating with - an actress I’ve admired since she starred in “Don’t Tell Mom The Babysitter’s Dead” (yeah, I went there) and you’ve got yourself an inspiringly real and hilarious cast.  Also, all three are new-ish parents; they know all too well what really goes down between the routine diaper changes and feedings.

Mix this dynamic cast with real life parenting situations including feelings of resentment, arguments over who slept the least last night, returning to work, and even savoring the bliss between moments of pure insanity.  Just this one half-hour (maybe 22 minutes) episode gave me the most relaxing and fun TV moment I’ve had since “Lost” bid adieu to my world last spring.

They score bonus points with the peeps up in the Northeast with using the phrase “wicked hot” a couple of times.  Applegate’s character will make every mom feel okay that she thinks Matt Lauer is talking to her every morning through the television.  And the all-too-familiar hubby’s tattered t-shirt (accompanied by him reciting overplayed memories of him in that shirt) is a brilliant reflection of just about every dad out there and the stories their women have to endure.  The episode ties up as neatly as a layette gift set with the new family daydreaming of the future with their precious little one.

If you’re a mom (or dad) craving “relatable” in form of a television comedy, you’ve found it in “Up All Night”.  Wednesday night on NBC, watch the pilot here, or maybe you’ll randomly catch an episode on BRAVO, like I did. 

Unreasonable Expectations

How did I picture preschool for my child?  Just like everything else I imagine.  All happy-go-lucky, with roses and sugar-coated cherries on top. 

     Don’t we all picture our children’s lives this way?  Perfect?  We are going to be the best parents, have the smartest children, the greatest home-lives.  And then when reality hits we don’t know what went wrong.

     I dropped Callie off for her first day of preschool with a grin on my face and a tear in my eye.  How did we get here already I wondered?  That afternoon I got a follow-up letter when I picked her up telling me how wonderful my little girl was and how much happiness and enthusiasm she contributed to the group.  A mental check mark in my brain as an early parenting success scored. 

     It wasn’t until mere weeks later I learned that Callie was having a few issues.  Her pretty blonde teacher met me at the door with an optimistic smile on her face that could only mean trouble.  The way she started was classic: “Callie is such an addition to our group; so charming and full of life…but…you should know there are some things we are working on.”

     She proceeded to tell me in a no less bubbly manner that my daughter was having some trouble listening, and had been caught telling a lie as well as stealing.  Yes, a young criminal I had on my hands already. 

     I drove home in tears.  My terrible parenting had surely led to a future drug-abuser, jail-bird, schizophrenic, and possibly even worse.  What was I to do?

     After sifting through my self-pity filled loathing party, my dear friend convinced me that stealing a sea shell and lying by saying she hadn’t hit a boy didn’t deem my daughter a future sociopath or drug dealer.  She was simply like all other typical four-year-olds…she was finding herself and learning about the do’s and don’ts of toddlerhood.  Just because I’d let her watch too many episodes of SpongeBob, and  even Jurassic Park in her dinosaur-loving days…didn’t mean I was a terrible parent.

    I think the dreams we let ourselves strive towards as parents are what sets us up for failure.  When we don’t reach our impossible goals we’ve set for ourselves when raising our little ones-we automatically are plagued by guilt and assume every small failure our children face is that of our own mistakes and parenting mishaps. 

   Let’s stop being so hard on ourselves as mommies.  Callie is beyond smart; to the point it scares me sometimes.  I will do my best to guide her and love her…and know that while neither of us is perfect and we will make mistakes, we are doing our best.  And…the best is simply all we can do! 

*Trina