Inside

I've been writing versions of this in my head for a long time. Maybe too long, I don't really know anymore. I've definitely been feeling it for longer than I want to admit, so perhaps it's time to put it out there.

Sometimes I am angry.

I wake up in the morning, groggy, stumbling to help the kids with the morning routine and I feel it bubbling under the surface, as the sun is rising. I start to think about our morning (getdressedgetbreakfastgettoschoolgetcoffeetidythehouse) and I just feel hopelessly lost. The walls are closing in around me already.

I snap at the kids, at my husband. I ponder kicking something, and I try to breathe through it, until we are out the door, up the hill in the sunshine.

I'm better then, for a while, while we drop Her off at school, run errands, get home and get on with our day. Sometimes I just want to curl up, and doze the morning away, pretend that they aren't always asking for something, anything, over and over again.

(another string cheese? perhaps some milk?)

Sometimes, I go through the motions, just so I can get out the door again, to take the Boy to the park, hoping that I get to have 2 minutes of adult conversation. And when he wants to go on the swings, there I am again, angry and resenting this life that I chose. Resenting the moms who go to work, resenting the kids who can play with other kids, rather than sit next to me snacking. Resenting everyone and everything.

Angry.

I'm not proud of these moments. But they are there.

Yes, I know I have lots to be Not Angry about - my kids are healthy, I am healthy as is Dave. I have a good relationship with everyone in my family and I have good friends that would be there for me in a heartbeat, if I called on them. I am lucky, and blessed and so, so very fortunate, and I acknowledge it every chance I can.

But still, there in the dark, deeply rooted corner of my mind it's whispering. Sometimes. I am Angry.

Five

Five years ago, the sun rose and a new person came into the world.
Claire Barbara.

Weighed 9lbs, 12 oz. Head full of dark dark brown hair and eyes the color of black coffee. There she was. My daughter, my first born and the one who changed everything. She made me a mother, and made us a family. Life was never going to be the same.

All I Ever Wanted

We went on vacation - as in my whole family. My parents, brother, sister-in-law, nieces and the four of us. We went to Disney World for 4 days, then on the Disney Dream cruise for another four. We had an awesome time (although there were awful moments, I'll admit. Traveling with 4 kids, five and under was a bit overwhelming from time-to-time.) The trip was planned and executed around the wedding of one of my oldest friends. She married her long-time love on the beach, and it was gorgeous. Even in the tropical drizzle that fell as she rode up in a festive golf cart.

Traveling with that many relatives is perilous to say the least, and I'm pretty impressed that we all came out the other side still speaking. We all had our moments - even Claire, and my niece, Izzy, normally the best of best friends, had a spat as the plane was descending into New York.

I wasn't quite prepared for how being out of our routine would affect me. I knew the kids would be out of sorts, and they were. But it was compounded by my own off-kilter feeling, that bled into every moment. The rush to get as many memories made in the time we had, the cooped up feeling of only having one room to share four ways. The tiptoeing around after they fell asleep to get sorted for the night. The guilt from slipping out on several of those nights to spend time with my old friends and family. And then there was the feeling of parenting on display. Every move we made was made in front of someone else, for good or bad. I sort of feel like a lot of judging went on there. Maybe I'm reading it wrong.

There was good too - watching my kids experience wonder like that. Seeing Ben's face light up whenever he saw a character that he could touch. Seeing all the princesses. Watching my dad watching us. Riding a huge water slide with Claire. Twice. Taking them to their first movie-theater movie. Seeing Karen's face as she saw John at the end of the aisle.

So many good, good moments. And those were so good the bad moments will fade away. Who cares that I yelled a lot? In a month, we're going to remember the fireworks.

Happy Mother's Day.

To all the moms out there.

To my mom, my mother-in-law. My sisters-in-law.

To my daughter.

To the aunties, and to our friends.


To all women.

Happy Mother's Day.

Yes, his fingers are in his nose. Yuck. Boys are gross. 

Dinner Tonight

Tonight I made a family favorite. Almost. Ben refused to eat it, and Claire put up a fuss, then ate the chicken and corn from the stew. She left behind the carrots and spinach.

CHICKEN STEW
1 package boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1/2 large sweet onion, finely chopped
1 stalk celery, finely chopped
1 carrot, peeled and diced
2 cloves garlic
frozen veggies (I had corn and spinach, but peas are really nice.)
salt and pepper
flour

Saute onion, celery and carrot in oil until onion and celery are translucent.
Grate garlic into pan with a microplane

(*Note) I chop the veggies as small as I can and use grated garlic because heaven fore fend that my children find suspicious plant matter in their food. Gag.)

Allow the garlic to saute for a minute or two.
Open chicken, and trim if necessary. We will be shredding it later, so you can cook the thighs whole, if you'd like.
Season with salt and pepper, and sprinkle with flour on both sides. Push the veggies aside and add a pat of butter. (Decadent, yes, if you'd rather not, don't...I won't judge) When the butter is melted add the chicken and brown on both sides. Once the chicken is done, deglaze the pan with water, adding enough to almost cover the chicken. Turn the heat down low and simmer for 15 or 20 minutes, checking to see that nothing is sticking to the pan. Taste the sauce, and adjust seasonings. Once the chicken is cooked through remove it and shred it, or chop it up. While you're doing that, add your frozen veggies, so that they can warm.

Serve over the carb of your choice. (Rice, noodles or biscuits are the go-tos around here.)

Pay It Forward

Last week I had the opportunity to do a truly random act of kindness.

We were given a bottle of Prosecco in a welcome basket for the wedding we attended. Since we had plenty of other opportunities to drink while on the cruise, Dave and I ended up packing the bottle in our suitcase to bring home.

Except that the suitcase was pretty heavy and we were afraid we'd be close to the weight limit. (We're cheap like that.) So, I took the bottle to the reception desk at the Hyatt Hotel in the Orlando International Airport. We were squatting there for the hours from when our bus from port arrived to when we needed to be in the airport prior to our flight.

I explained to the woman behind the desk our situation, and donated the bottle to a random couple spending the night at the hotel en route to their honeymoon this weekend.

I wonder who drank it?

Looking around

It's Sunday night. The rain is pouring down, and it's chilly here. I'm cozy. planning some tea before I go to bed.

I have a crappy day present that needs to be wrapped. I should probably start packing a bit for vacation. It's intimidating - we're leaving for a nine day vacation with extended family, which includes a trip to Disney, a cruise and two wedding events. (A formal reception before we sail and the actual wedding, which takes place during the cruise.) I could wash dishes or fold laundry. Instead, I'm going to sit here a while longer and listen to the rain.