Soccer Mom...and Dad.

First, let me clear the air... For most of my late teens and early adult life I judged the so called "Soccer Mom." I admit it... I did. The mini vans, the entourage of little heads I could always see through the back window. The sluggish way you all drove and the bumper stickers, or recently the magnet decals... Oh the magnet decals... Yes I judged, I am very guilty of the evil, evil judgment of you poor innocent Moms. And just like everything else I have learned since becoming a Mom, this one in particular has taught me that clearly, I know nothing. Not just a little nothing. But a whole lot of nothing. It's quiet refreshing actually knowing nothing humbles me in a way that I have grown quite used too... For a day without humbleness is a day wasted... Or some crap like that.

Anyways, I sincerely apologize to all the Moms I gave dirty looks too, cussed at and judged so wrongly. If you ever thought there would be a pay back day for me it is here. I officially became a soccer mom on August, 20th when we signed up Evan and Ryan for a soccer youth league. But I officially "officially" became a soccer Mom when I went to their first game.

I can sum up the experience in a few simple words and/or statements:
1) There is never and will never be enough film in the camera and getting the perfect shot is more stressful and challenging than watching one of the boys get a goal.
2) Both boys are without a doubt the most talented kids on the team. Sure, every Mom thinks the same thing about their kids but it's Evan and Ryan who are perfect. Well that is until Ryan gets his soccer cleats tangled in the net and Evan kicks a goal but into the other teams net. Doesn't matter though I got a great shot of both!!
3) The word "Hustle" is now a part of my every day vocabulary. I like this new word. It's cool, yes I am a dork!
4) And speaking of Dork, that is exactly how I DON'T feel when I jump up and down, scream, yell, praise and chant on the sidelines when either boys gets their feet on or near the ball. Well, okay I feel like a little bit of a dork, but it's goes with the whole Mom thing so nothing new to me.
5) All soccer shorts no matter how well they fit cause wedgies.

So there you have it, my official intro to this new world. But now it is here where I need to introduce the husband in this story. Yes, my husband Chris does get left out from time to time in my ventures with the boys. Mainly because to date just about any and all of my extra circular activities have been with me, myself and I. Kindermusick, Gymboree, art lessons, play dates, park dates, swim dates, oh the list is endless... But here, here the husband enters the picture because a) it's sports related b)other Dads are involved and c) It's sports related.

Since the boys have been babies Chris has been a hands on Dad. He has jumped in when I needed, he has provided for us so I can stay home with them and he never ever judges me when I go for that second glass of wine to help me unwind from a stressful day. But for the most part and has been me as the front runner when it involves activities with the kids that take place outside the house. So we enter new territory here. Daddy is the "go to" guy. Daddy teaches, Daddy shows and Daddy gets them a cool soccer net and super cool new soccer shoes. Daddy pumps them up when they fall during practice and Daddy knows exactly when and where to insert tough love. I for the first time in awhile find myself no long their expert. When another little boy (we will call him Satan Jr.) knocks over Evan or Ryan and the result is tears, I respond by running towards said crying child with arms wide open and my "Mommy is here" speech. However, new rules new coach, new tactic. Husband is in charge now so I let him respond (well actually I don't really have a choice since Chris has tied and gagged me to my lawn chair), But there he goes, making his way to the child and within minutes child is up, smiling, wiping grass off of his knee and is back in the game. Chris walks back with a cool and calm swagger and I find myself fascinated... How did he do that? How did he stay so calm....? Who is this person, and why is he all the sudden in charge? Further more why doesn't this bother me?

Because when all is said and done he is the right man for the job. Just like I am the right one for mine. I take care of boo boo's, bad dreams and a case of the sniffles. I cook, chaperon and chauffeur. I love them in a soul wrenching way, love form the inside out which means that just about anything and everything in my life revolves round them.
Until I realize that not everything has too.
It's actually really, really cool to realize this and to also realize that Daddy is every bit the soccer Mom that I am.
Because we may differ on our sideline techniques but we agree on one thing:
Satan Jr. must go down...soon....very soon...
And I will get a picture!

Explain Please!

For someone who loves to write, you would think I would be great with words. But looking back I have never really been good at formulating my thoughts out loud. I do better on a keyboard, where I can type, evaluate, delete and type again. I have the famous "do over" ability that one doesn't really get when they are speaking to a group or friend or in my case, the 4 year old.

I have often wished for the ability to go back and say what it was I really wanted to say. I truly do envy those who not only can speak articulately but also really get their point a cross. My sister is one of those. She has the natural born debate gene in her and she can always justify her thoughts and her opinions that not only make sense but also leave an impression. I on the other hand will bit my bottom lip, over think my response and most of the time spit out something like "That's true" or attempt to quote a sonnet (depending on the situation).

So now that my boys are getting older and they begin to discover their little worlds more, I find that we are entering a new phase. Their little active minds and imaginations are processing things faster...clearer and lately they have a comeback question or statement for just about everything. Now before, I could get away with a silly explanation, one that was one part made up and the other part done up in mommy words and tone that just made sense at the time. Now, it's a different ball game...

In Monday's case.. The infamous deflating helium balloon they both got from Sunday school the day before... I heard a quiet little voice whimper "Mommy the balloon won't fly anymore" my close to tears 4 year old says as the sad little balloon just barely hovered and bobbed along the floor looking like it was indeed on it's last leg.

Hmmmm... How to explain... Do I introduce the concept of the chemical make up of helium or is now a good time to talk about when things die? Or should I just kneel over it, and blow on it, in hopes that it will at least rise up a little and satisfy him temporarily. In a nutshell I failed on all three and told the child we will get him a new one and to go grab a cookie from the kitchen.

A few weeks ago it was question about the Human Body.
"Mommy why do girls go pee pee sitting down?"
"Uhhhh....well...." How about a brownie?"
"But Mommy girls sit down to go pee pee."
"Yes sweetie, I know that's because God gave girls a "who who" and boys a "thingy"
"You mean a penis" he shoots back all confident (since when did he become Mr. know it all?)
"Um, yes honey, your penis. That's right. Now who is hungry for a brownie and ice cream?"

Needless to say he settled for both and the human body questions were tabled at least for awhile anyways. But when he brought it up again later in the day I did my best to explain to him why girls are made differently than boys. But hours later I worried did I make any sense? Did I leave any impression? Is he scared for life? Is he going to be the next Ted Bundy because he is uncertain about gender differences? Is he going to have a cavity because he had 12 cookies today?

I find myself saying weird things lately... Explaining things I am just not ready to explain...Most recently, trying to figure out how to talk my way out of a conversation with Ryan that began with him telling me he had a pickle in his underwear.

Where do they get it from?? My kids are 4 and 3... Now granted the 3 year old mainly just follows the 4 year old but what little inquisitive things they both are lately Everything is a question followed up by another and another and the famous "But why"

BECAUSE!!!!

Geezzz...

But I think what is really bothering me is a trend I am seeing within my self. I am a procrastinator. Not in a bad way, I just tend to put things off. For as long as I can remember if there was an awkward situation or a moment where I knew I was going to get in trouble I did the famous head in the sand move. My Mom, to this day, still gives me a hard time about how she had to threaten to take down all my Bon Jovi posters if I didn't clean up my room. I still hate to call people back who called me days ago because I am embarrassed that it has taken me so long to call back. I still have thank you notes to fill out from the boy’s birthday party 7 months ago. My gmail account currently has 2236messages 84 of them I have yet to read...

Do you see the trend??

It's probably good to write about this since hopefully I will learn I am not alone. I know that more questions will come from the boys,and probably more cookie offerings from mommy. But as I think about it, it's really not all that bad to be going through this phase with them. After all everything in their world right now is still perfect in their eyes. They have no idea yet the magnitude of anything really except that the Transformers dudes are cool, Bouncy houses are even cooler and this Mommy person caters too and takes care of just about every need or want.

So maybe, just maybe, any reply I have for them with their questions will be perfect to them and for their little worlds. Because when all is said and done, explaining anything to these growing boys means they still need me. Having them grow up and move just a little further away from me can be put off for a little while longer.

And that right there is perfectly fine with me!

Dear Folks,

Dear Customers and employees of the Chick-Fil-A,


I am not an idiot. I went to college and have a 4 year degree in Sociology. I know how to add 2+2. For all practical purposes, I am relatively qualified to handle my children (most of the time). However, It may not appear so after this afternoon's outing to Chick-Fil-A but wanted to clear up a few loose ends.

First the children you witnessed me dragging out of the restaurant sniffling and wailing are not the same children I gave birth to. No, these are loaners sent to me by the aliens who kidnapped my original precious little boys and replaced them with exact look alikes. I Hope for the original Evan and Ryan to return one day perhaps when they are older, or at least can tie their own shoes, which ever comes first. In the mean time I have to pretend they are mine and tote them around because they get bored, cranky and hungry awfully quick.

Hence our visit to Chick Fil-A yesterday. You may have seen us walk in. That was me who had the look of panic on her face when I realized the line was the size of the Mississippi river. That was also me who kept yelling things like "Stay with Mommy." "Put That Down" and "No you may not have a Brownie for lunch." A certain amount of stress is caused in this type of situation...So I am sure you can understand my emotional state at the time. Especially when the Mississippi River only moves 3/4 of an inch every few minutes. And yes those were my boys/loaners you saw at that point laying on the floor blowing kisses at the trash can. Why didn't I interfere you ask? Because they were happy and quiet and I was able to order! That's why.

I am sure you also saw us walking to our table, me screaming "No running" and the boys running regardless. At this point I would like to address the kind and friendly staff of Chick-Fil-A. The sweet little lady who helped me carry my tray and then offered each child a balloon did settle them down long enough for them to eat most of their lunch and for me to somewhat regain my composure.... It was a pleasant 5 minutes or so... Until the boys harassed me to go play in the glass enclosed Play area. Speaking of which, this is a great concept. No food or drink is allowed in the play area and I love the fact that the glass is relatively noise proof. There is always a line of Mommies in front of the glass watching their offspring play but enjoying the silence on the other side of the glass. Brilliant!!

Yet, this is where you probably last saw me before I turned into Mommyzilla. And it is here that I would also like to address that I don't care what your degree is in...I don't care how smart you are or how many years abroad you may have spent. Until you unleash your offspring into a glass enclosed play area with other children (or perhaps other loaners) and attempt to pull off "coolness" you are in my book just like me. Screwed!!

It began with little things as I am sure you noticed. Me standing up from time to time pointing at the glass (or sometimes feverishly knocking on it) mouthing "no hands" or "be nice." I admit my voice did go up on octave when I caught a glimpse of Ryan walking by the glass happily chewing on a mystery substance. Sorry for those of you I may have knocked down on my way to fling the glass door open and address the situation. So disgusted I was it was only natural for my words to come out backwards "RYAN, DOWN PUT OLD GROSS MOMMY GIVE TO AGAIN DON'T SICK!". Once again I am not an idiot... I just can't form sentences in high stress situations.

I want to thank those of you who were sitting inside the play area and witnessed me addressing the crying 3 year old as to why we don't eat things off of the floor no matter what it is. Your sympathetic looks and head nods were much appreciated but I could have used your mental strength on incident number 2. It really isn't my fault that the little shoe cubbies are well within children grabbing range. Okay so it is sort of my fault that I own a child who likes to collect, analyze and finally organize things in a color coding fashion (actually it's his fathers fault not mine but whatever...). However, Was it so wrong to do this up top in the floating car where only preschoolers aged kids can reach??? Again, I could have really used your support here but instead felt the annoyance of two of you who were ready to leave and couldn't find your children's shoes.... I understood - I did... Hence my tone and backwards talk once again, "EVAN,DOWN NOW SHOES SPANKING!" See...Totally not an idiot. Again thank you for those of you who were patient.

Incident number 3 of course you had my full blessing to stare judge, shake your head and some of you cackle (I heard you.). But look, no one wants their child to have a potty accident so I was only praising him when Ryan announced he had to go poop. Sure he announced to the whole restaurant and knocked over the fica tree in route to the bathroom chanting "Poop is coming.. poop is coming..." But it is my job as his mother to encourage good habits so me running after him clapping my hands and yelling "good job,
that's my boy." really wasn't so terrible was it?

You all have been there right???
Right??

Again I would like to address the staff of Chick-Fil-A. Your restrooms are very clean and tidy. However only two stalls??? Really??? This of course almost always ensures a potty neighbor. So who ever you were....Sorry... Surely you must have understood that an adult and two preschoolers shoved inside one small little stall is going to cause a lot of bumping, banging and the occasional "DON'T TOUCH" Shriek. I also want to apologize for the 4 year old who likes to narrate and discuss anything and everything... Describing Ryan's poop being in the shape of a "Christmas Tree" really is kind of funny but I also get pretty gross. You see, I become immune to these sort of things over time. I have no excuse, I am just a Mom who is grateful that the child made it to the bathroom in time.

So it was around or about that time I was ready to leave. You all were probably getting ready to let out a big collective sigh of relief. But noooo....we had to leave you with one final farewell incident didn't we.

At this point I would like to address the staff of Chick-Fil-A One last time and simply ask "What the F**K?" Why, WHY I ASK must you offer ice cream to the kids when you know full well this Mommy has had a enough and ready to leave. Ice cream before nap time equals more screwedness for Mommy who really needs the nap more than they do. So I apologize if my "No, not this time." came out like "IF YOU EVER MENTION ICE CREAM TO MY CHILDREN AGAIN I WILL HURT YOU!!"

"Butttt MOmmmmmyyyyyy......Pllleeaaassseeeee...." I am sure you heard while I griped with the notion that the children's shoes were still in the play area, probably up in the floating car and I had about 5 minutes before I was going to completely lose it. I mean while Sociology is the study of human behavior, it never once prepared me for one child grasping my leg for dear life begging for ice cream while the other child introduces himself to the lady standing near us and informs her that his brother just popped a Christmas tree.

So there you have it...your last vision of me dragging those little people out of the establishment sniffling and sobbing, and that was me babbling incoherently out loud to nobody. I truly do apologize to those of you whose lunch was interrupted by the hurricane of our visit. I truly do not plan for this sort of thing I just wing it and well, neither child left bleeding or bruised so all in all I considered it a relatively decent visit.

Except for the part where after buckling the kids into their seats did I realize that the children were still in their socked feet. Once again I would like to address the staff of Chick-Fil-A.... Thank you for not judging me as we walked back in and ordered the f**ing ice cream. The soft serve vanilla is really yummy. Move your damn shoe cubbies out of kiddo's reach. Or at least put a padlock on them.

Respectively,

Mommyzilla

Welcome....Now What

On a warm and sunny Sunday afternoon, my wonderful husband of 6 years took me by the hands, turned me to face him and looked me so tenderly in the eye that my senses began to stir... For a moment I was transported back to the early days of when looking each other in the eye meant a whole lot of......well....let's just say good things. It really wasn't that long ago when...

"MOMMY, Come quickly there is a monster in the closet. Come quick"

Oh Crap!

But before I could turn my head in the dutiful direction of the 4 year old, my husband, who now had a grasp of my shoulders, wiped one strand of messed up non- showered hair behind my ear and whispered "I got this, you go do something for yourself."

"What? Myself..."???
Huh...?
Who...?

"Oh, ME... " I replied "That person. (giggle giggle..) "I forgot about her. Okay if you say so. I will do something for myself. Now if you cold just point me in the right direction I will go introduce myself to her and see what she feels like doing. "

"No seriously" he said patting me in the head and still not breaking our eye gaze (he is so romantic). "I have the kids for a few hours. Enjoy your free time."

(Insert blank stare here).

So this is where I find myself on said sunny Sunday afternoon. Kids loaded up in the car, husband saying he is taking them for pizza and to pick out some posters for their rooms. I watch them drive away and just as I begin to wave after them saying I will go with them, an image pops into my head. An image from earlier in the week of two bored, hot little fuss pots who are sometimes just flat out impossible to please. As that image enters my head and I watch the car drive off a feeling of peace comes over me. I am off duty for a little while. I can do anything I want (within reason). I can go read my book, I can go down to the pool, I can finish the laundry from 8 days ago still in the dryer, I can even (call me crazy) take a shower..... So much to do.... So much to think about.... I walk back inside and find the dogs staring at me.

"I don't know" I say to them. "The peace and quiet is new to me too."

I wander back to the bedroom and contemplate what I want to do with my time.

And then it hits me.

Write. I want to write. All these years, all this time, all those stories I have stuffed in a folder that have never amounted to anything... I want to write. I want to write new stories, revisit my old ones and maybe just maybe write the book I have been meaning to write since I knew how to form sentences.

So on that glorious Sunday afternoon, something good to come out of this after all. I had a moment or "clarity" if you will. I came upstairs and sat in front of this computer and just stared typing. I typed for for awhile and then took a break and then typed some more. Eventually the family returned and I had to resume my duties as Mommy. But writing wasn't far from my mind and I am finally starting to realize that it never really should have been. It takes all sorts of things in this life to try and figure out what your God given gift is and probably even longer to implement a plan to do it. But I am a firm believe in it's never to late.

So welcome to "Momsie." I hope you join as a follower and enjoy reading about this journey as much as I will enjoy telling you.

A good friend of mine recently told me that I should try and discover the beauty more. I have been thinking about that a lot lately because I think what he really meant was discovering my own beauty, my own gifts, my own thoughts. Because beauty or not, thoughts matter. All thoughts all words, all dreams, no matter who you are.

As for the name "Momsie" if in case you are wondering....It's a combination of "Mommy" and "Mosey." Those of you in my family have known me as "Mosey" for years... Those of you not I will just say that sometimes, 'random, have no purpose, mean absolutely nothing' nick names picked when you are 9 years old just stick. It just seemed fitting to combine them both since on most days I can't even seem to remember my real name anymore...... Ummm....

"Mary" - right...

That's the one....

Good Lord...

I am so happy you are here with me.

Mary