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Loathe. Detest. Despise. I can’t vacuum you up quickly enough.
I bring you, the story: This past summer while on vacation, I purchased some “modeling dough.” See, there was a hurricane coming and we were on this fabulous little island and all I could think about was that if we got stranded there we’d need something to do. And since we hadn’t purchased any food or water or beer at least we’d have overpriced “modeling clay.” It turns out that we got off of said island before the hurricane and we didn’t open the “modeling dough” until at least a month later when Courtney had discovered the joy of it at school. So out came the “modeling clay” and Courtney spent hours and hours and hours entertaining herself and having all kinds of fun. And after every use, we’d put said modeling clay away and it would be excellently squishy for the next session. However, like all flour-made toys, it eventually started to dry out and so, like a complete ignoramus, I asked someone to give Courtney Playdough for Christmas.
Holy hell. Playdough SUCKS. It gets EVERYWHERE. I mean, it crumbles and falls to the floor and sticks to your clothes and to your shoes and WTF, who invented this crap. I mean, GAH! Clearly, some man* invented it because he had no intention of cleaning this crap up so who cares how messy it is, let’s make millions! Don’t get me wrong, I’m no neat freak and my house is NOT out of some magazine but little red playdough pieces all over the damn place are more than I can tolerate. And while yes, the colors are pretty and the cookie-cutter-shape-doohickeys are fun, the crap still gets EVERYWHERE. And seriously, at this point, I can’t vacuum this stuff up fast enough. The kids leave it out for an hour, oops, look at that, it’s all dry. Vacuum. Oh look, there’s some on the floor. Vacuum. Oh hey, that container is half empty (that shit is never half full), throw it out. Of the 6 containers Courtney received for Christmas, there’s maybe 3 left. Maybe less…
I’ve already ordered and received my new Modeling Dough  ** And I can’t wait to break this out, see ya Playdough.
*Yes, it was a man in 1956 and he CLEARLY wasn’t doing to cleaning then. I mean, I’ve seen TV from the 50′s and I’m sure it was all true with women cooking and cleaning.
** Yes, that is an affiliate link and if you buy it, I’ll get maybe $.06. But seriously, that stuff is the bomb diggity and you’ll love it. Unless you make it yourself and already have a bomb diggity recipe then please share.
Sometimes you just have to look at the pictures, the captured moments, the stillness of it all, to remind you that some of these not-so-great moments will pass. They will, honestly. The pictures of the smiles and new moments and excitement help you to hold on to the fact that your kids are awesome and you are SO lucky. Today is one of those days. And it’s not even that the entire day is bad. It’s that witching hour before bed, or even before dinner, where things fall apart. Where the independence and exploring toddler can push all your buttons and try and push you over the edge. Where the screaming and the yelling and the crying and the complete and utter disregard for what you say has you wanting to hide in a closet. Because it’s not all day, just those last hours of the day that can cloud the laughter and the fun from earlier. Pushing away the happy memories for those moments where you’re ready to lock the kids in their cage.
Back in the fall, I wanted to set a goal to run a 1/2 marathon. I thought if I signed up for a 1/2 in a really great location I’d be more motivated to do it. But it turns out the really great location costs money and we didn’t have money and I didn’t train so I didn’t go. The date came and went and on the weekend of the event, I was home, sitting my ass on the couch.
So a few weeks ago I started to research 1/2 marathons in the spring. Again, I was looking at “exoctic” locations but it turns out those same exoctic locations still cost money. And, I felt like some of them were too soon, they didn’t really give me enough time to train. I then stumbled across the website for the Zooma Half which is just north of here at the end of April. AND, it’s all women!!! Bingo! Local, inexpensive, the end of April, no men ZOOMING by me as I stumble up some hill – seems like the perfect trifecta of thingsto get me going. AND THEN, I was contacted by Zooma and they asked me if I’d like to be a Zooma Coordinator – and VOILA! A race (for me) is born!
Now I’m committed and I’d love for you to run with me!! The race is April 22nd and there’s a 5k option as well. AND, I have discount codes!! Who doesn’t love a discount??? (The discount is good for $10 off the half and $5 off the 5K.) What do you say? This is a run for all levels and trust me, I’m no speed demon who’s ever run more than a 10k before. If I can do this, so can you. Oh, and there’s a meetup on Saturday the 28th to run and meet other participants. So if you’re interested but aren’t completely sure, come to the meet up!!!
You can register here: http://zoomarun.com/atlanta/atlanta-registration/ and the discount code is: ATLCON4
*This is a sponsored post. The fine folks at Zooma are paying my entry and giving me schwag, like a free car and a pony. OK, they aren’t doing all that but it’s still sponsored.
As I sit and write this, Courtney is in her room screaming, not sleeping, and Patrick is going down to bed. It’s that time of day where you sink into the couch, happy to have survived the day and having had no one die on your watch. You sit and think, I’m done. I can’t do this for another minute. When do these kids go to college?
All day, every day, we parent our kids and nurture their souls. We play with them. We feed them. We clothe them. We bathe them. We tickle them. We clean their wounds and put bandaids on them. We clean goldfish out from under the couch and smoothie out of the nostrils of their noses. We clean the kitchen and fold the laundry. We vacuum the dog hair and maybe make some doctors appointments. We go to the grocery store, drive the carpool and shuttle kids to gymnastics or ballet or soccer practice. The day is a cacophony of small voices that make loud noises. “Mommy mommy mommy” and “I want my daddy” all day long. Cries and tears and skinned knees and bumped heads. The never ending words from Jingle Bells and Old McDonald, all rolled into one.
These are the noises that make up my life. They go on and on and on. Some days they seem to never stop. And you long for that moment of silence. When the kids are sleeping and you can sit and catch your breath and maybe have a thought of your own about something other than, ‘did he eat that rock?’ Or maybe, you can be totally crazy and have a conversation with your spouse. Uninterrupted.
Sure, these days are short. The kids will get older, there will be less hanging on to my leg. Or my every word. The desire to sit in my lap or to hold my hand or to tell me they love me will become the days that I long for. The need for me will become less as their need for independence will grow. I get all that and I don’t look forward to it. But then I do.
The sounds of silence are rare. They’re desired and sometimes longed for. Needed, even. But rare. Some day I will long for the singing and the dancing and the running and the crashing and the never ending chorus of ‘mommy mommy mommy’s’. But today. Today. I’d just like some quiet.
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