Living Up to the Standard

It makes me laugh... when people call me "Super Mom" in my mind Super Mom has it all together, never breaks a sweat and is the image of style (in a hot mom way).

I am none of these things. I thank God that I have a two story home -- which allows me to host friends without having to hide the 3-5 loads of laundry waiting for my attention. I can have two dirty bathrooms and one left to welcome my guests. My car is a disgrace and only the very close or very brave are offered a ride, and if you think for a moment that I am the image of fashion ummm... yeah. I am wearing flannel pajama pants and my hair is in a bun.

Is it really about meeting a standard or living up to what other people think you should do? At the end of the day when you look in the mirror is your reflection looking back at a liar? Are you living your life as a fiction story - or is your's a story with nothing hiding between the lines?

bla bla bla... my point? Be who you are - don't hide, don't try to be someone else.... be YOU and do not pretend to be anything other than that. When you muddy the waters of your identity you do not allow people to invest in the person you are. They love and admire an illusion -- when the smoke clears there is discontent, confusion and pain.

So, am I a super mom? No. I am a woman who survives day to day and does my best to make it work. When people come to my home I clean like crazy, and slap on some make-up. Wanna see chaos? Come to my house at 0900 when I am trying to get the kids out the door for Pre-school, show up 10 minutes before dinner is supposed to be on the table. I scream, yell, cry -- and lose my cool.

but at the end of the day -- I see who everyone else sees looking back from the mirror. There is no confusion, no question... no wondering if I can keep it up or what people think of me.

Just my thoughts on today - take 'em or leave 'em. Oh, and go look in the mirror.

http://underthecape.blogspot.com/

All I Want for Christmas

Welll, I am pretty simple really. For Christmas, on one hand I like things that sparkle and on the other hand I like Diamonds. Oh wait... sorry that just slipped out.

Today I was using the bathroom and like most moms I wasn't alone. ((this is a joy of motherhood you always have a potty buddy)). Our three year old, Luke, is in the final stages of potty training. He is very interested in what everyone else is doing in there and wants to SEE the results of your efforts -- he's not weird he knows that he gets ice cream for #2's and he wants to share that secret with you.

Aaaaanyway, today he walks in and says "Mamma wha you pecker?"
I say, "I don't have one baby, I'm a lady."
He replies, "Ahh Mamma (very sad), you la you pecker?"
I inform him "No baby I didn't lose it, I never had one"
He says, "Oh, Mamma." and gives me his sad puppy dog face.

He walks out of the bathroom for about 3 seconds then RACES BACK IN!

"Mamma, Mamma!! I buy lou pecker for Frissmass!"

"You're going to buy me a pecker for Christmas?"

"Uh Haaa! A grrreat greeeaaaat BIG ONE"

Lucky me!

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The Turkey Rule

I am truly blessed. I have a set of in laws who are welcoming, funny, humble and fiercely loyal.

Having said that I am totally gonna sell out my mother in law and tell you ALL how she dropped the ball - and not just any ball this one has wings.

Kim, (my mamma in law) uses this really great method to cook the Thanksgiving turkey. You fill the turkey with root vegetables and then surround it with brown paper bags. (confused? so was I check the link).

Well, the morning started nicely. The men were outside playing with weapons and BBQ grills. Kim and I ran around the kitchen doing prep work, cutting veggies and potatoes. She set the oven and got the bird going. As time passed the house filled with the aromas of the holiday. Potatoes were mashed, pies were made, dressing was prepared. It seemed like forever and then it was the moment of truth... the turkey was ready.

Kim opened the oven and pulled the centerpiece out. All around the room people drew in their breath as the beautiful turkey appeared. We all got a great look at it as it sailed through the air with grace and skidded to the floor like a jumbo jet liner heading into JFK.

At first we all stared mouths gaping but as reality sank in, the star of the show was laying in a heap on the ground, we took action to rescue the day. Heavy guns (a.k.a. my husband) were called in to lift the bird and replace it on a roasting pan. The bird was placed back in the oven to recover and brown for final presentation at the table. The floors were mopped and horror was replaced by humor and understanding.
Fortunately for all of us since Kim uses the brown bag cooking method the bird never actually came into contact with the floor. The only casualties were the pan drippings and a wing lost due to the collision.

Turkey Day? 100% a success and a story that we will share and enjoy for years to come. Although instead of the 5 second rule -- we now call it "the turkey rule"!
(p.s. Kim is a great hostess and she kept her calm during an event which would have crushed a less seasoned holiday hostess with the mostest! She took it with a grin and laughed off the what could have been a turkey tragedy)

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ITS OVER!

WOW! What an amazing journey the last 7 months have been. On April 15th I watched my husband board a C-17 aircraft bound for Iraq. He and his fellow Sailors were going "over there" and we were left behind to - worry, wonder, hope and pray.

I did my fair share of all of the above. The kids kept me crazy stupid busy, and thanks to the support of friends and family I didn't lose my mind. It got close at the end, but I made it through.

On November 3rd the calls and emails started flying. Homecoming was upon us and the dates and times were changing faster than a newborn's diaper. By the 5th I'd had enough and decided to ignore all further calls with "more information" on homecoming. My thoughts - "Just tell me when he's home - I can't take it anymore".

So, we get the "final" call that he'll be home Friday evening. I clean like a crazy woman, wake up on Friday clean babies, change clothes, confirm my hair appointment and hang banners. I am about to walk out the door when the phone rings. Its HER. The woman who calls to tell me he'll be home later not sooner. I brace myself and say hello. She tells me there is a time change - He'll be home sooner than later.

I call Andrea the OpLove photographer to let her know our time has been pushed up, and I pray that she can still make it. She's IN! I pack up the kids and head to the terminal ---> its time to Go GET DADDY!

We wait, for two hours we wait. I meet up with Andrea introduce her to the commander's wife, the ombudsman and she works her magic with the camera.

Then we hear the intercom "Ladies and Gentleman in the terminal your flight has cleared customs, your Service members will arrive shortly"

My heart races. I get in my spot "Babe I'll be in the back to your Left. Just look for me I'll be there" we'd planned it out, talked about it -- focused on it when we thought we wouldn't make it through. It was happening. He was about to be home.

A Master Chief from the command took up duty as "Bird Dog" and told us he'd let us know when they were on the bus and headed to the terminal. As we saw his boots coming down the stairs voices rose and the room filled with anticipation. We saw their shadows pass the doors and knew our boys were home.

The kids and I stood to the rear of the crowd (small room - large crowd) and off to the left like we'd planned. The doors opened and the first Kegbuster was welcomed home. The room cheered, we all clapped and waited for the next face to appear...

"Its HIM Its HIM!! Baby I'm here! We're here!!! It's HIM!!!"

I heard my voice yelling above the cheers of my fellow Kegbuster families. Saw the joy in my husbands eyes as he found us in the crowd. I choked back the tears in my eyes and my heart flooded with joy and relief. My Sailor is HOME! He is safe and we are complete as a family!

I watched as he knelt down to kiss the boys and pull them close, kissed his lips and told Kadee her Daddy is home. As a family we embrace and the last 7 months disappear all that remains is joy.

special thanks to Andrea of Andrea Leigh Photography for capturing our homecoming and making such happy moments last a lifetime!

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Its DUNKIN DONUTS!!!

Its Monday and I load up the kids for preschool in less than 30 minutes. This timeline allows me one precious stop on the way to the haven the children know as school (which mommy reveres as 3 hours of calm with only one child to worry about).

Anyway, we roll on down the road and pull into our Dunkin Donuts drive through for a treat for the kids and the required lifeline for all humans over the age of 25 on a monday morning - COFFEE.

Yep, Coffee - not a chocolattagratta halfcalf double tuckasoyalotta choo choo - COFFEE. Well, somehow the goob in front of me mistook PINK & ORANGE for GREEN & WHITE.

"Ummmm... I'll have a venti soy chai latte"

"We don't have that ma'am"

"Ummmm... I'll have a venti skinny Pumpkin Spice Latte no whip"

"We have pumpkin flavored coffee ma'am"

"Ummmm... well, do you have anything Pink?" (I am not making that up)

HOLY SHIT! It's dunkin donuts dumbass! Order a medium regular with cream and sugar and get the hell out of my way. You are cutting into my 3 hours of happy time which does NOT make me happy and endagers your life as you sit in your hippy-happy-bumper-sticker-slatherd-hybrid.

Don't get me wrong. When I want a Grande Triple Pumpkin Spice Latte I KNOW where to go - hell -- maybe I should have given her directions.

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Oh Yeah... That's a Good One

Its not everyday (especially over the last 7 months) that I bare my girl parts. It is pretty much never (excluding childbirth) that I've been spread eagle on a table with a perfect stranger "all up in it".

Well, today was the day I bared it all and in return spent an hour getting hot waxed slathered on my bikini region only to have that hot wax covered in fabric and oh so expertly RIPPED OFF by C.J. (who is an arteest by the way). In response to this, oh so delicate, action my body reacted naturally. I screamed and then giggled like a school girl at the sheer horror of what was happening to my most sensitive region. Yes, I said giggled. I think there may be something wrong with my psyche - who giggles as they get tortured? Who? Me - that's who.

C.J. kept things light telling me about the strippers and S&M girls who are her regular customers (this made me giggle even more). She suggested, since this was my first adventure into waxing, that I start with a bikini wax -- but me being the badass that I am said "Nope, do it all". Yeah - somehow "do it all" neglected to translate to my brain that my ass would be involved.

After a while I forgot that she was tearing away at my lady land and was enjoying our conversation - even though it was sometimes interrupted by "Ohh ho ho MY GOD - That's a good one" You know its a good one when little white lights flash behind your eyelids as you spontaneously fold into the fetal position.

I mean really? Am I voluntarily laying on a table, half naked, with wax from front to back - side to side and ever crevice in between. Yep - Really.

All I know is
A: My husband better f$#king appreciate this effort
B: When he is done appreciating it I better be the one saying "Oh yeah -- that's a good one."

http://underthecape.blogspot.com/

Say When

Its been a while hasn't it? Well, as life catches up with you sometimes little extras drop to the sidelines.

I was thinking about limits yesterday when I was at the commissary on base. I watch as 300lb people pick up gallons of soda and pounds of potato chips, moms give into their toddlers just to get a moments peace... men grab every protein shake on the shelf and women stare aimlessly at the beauty counters.

It is amazing how at some point we all need to pull back and say ENOUGH! I'm walking through the aisle, and like me, there are plenty of other woman dragging multiple little ones behind them 2, 3 even 4. I ask myself -- would I ever want any more kids? Nope. Not even a second to come up with that answer. Don't get me wrong I love my children, but when two people make the personal choice to become a baby mill -- do they ever consider their children's feelings?

There are the Duggers we all know their choices -- and I think it is their example that makes me wonder or give the "side eye" as some would say.
aaaaand Like MandyBrownNoser says "its not my place to judge".

Anyway, as I'm walking through the dairy aisle I'm approached by a retiree looking for coffee creamer. He compliments my brood of minions and asks if we plan on having any more. He smiles and says

"My wife had seven"

I respond, "My husband had a vasectomy"

He laughs and says quietly -- "Good Idea!"

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From the mouths of babes

We are driving to school on Thursday and traffic is a little heavier than usual. We are stuck in traffic and on the radio we are listening to a report regarding President Obama's thoughts on Kanye West. The radio station plays an audio clip of President Obama saying "He's a Jackass." Inspired by the words of the US President Byron Duke begins a tirade of Jackass at the top of his lungs.

When I tell him that we shouldn't use that word. He begins to cry and yells,

"But Peddident Odama says Jackass!!"

I can't argue with logic now can I.

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Reality Check

So here I am in my little mommy world. I think all is normal until I share with friends some of my daily Super Mom duties.

• Up at 0600 to feed, dress, nurture... whatever.
• Cleaning poop covered baby in a single bound.... I mean bath.

Apparently -- this is icky to other people (the poopy part). After reading the poopy entry below one friend said "I can never be a mom -- I can't handle the truth" another compared my daughter to her guinee pig (totally in jest).


I am grateful to my friends who are not yet blessed with munchkins. They keep the day to day work of mommy world in check. I thought everyone dealt with poop, screaming, feeding.... etc all day everyday. It is their outside observations that keep me going sometimes. They help me laugh at my current role -- and keep me from getting to serious about the ups and downs of motherhood.

Tell another Mom about poop on the walls -- and she'll one up you with poop in the mouth. Tell a not-a-mom-YET and she'll agree that poop is nasty and you are the HERO for cleaning it up all by yourself and not calling a hazmat team!

Tell another Mom about not sleeping -- she'll tell you she didn't sleep for 8 weeks after Baby Perfect was born. Tell a not-a-mom-YET and she'll bring over a bottle of wine help you drink it, tell you -- you deserve a pedicure and watch GROWN UP TV with you.

Don't get me wrong, other Moms get it, but sometimes we are so wrapped up in our own kids that we forget that our Mommy Friends need to get it out without hearing "Oh yeah -- well little Johnny bla bla bla"...

Thank you not-a-mom-YET friends for just being there! For being MY friend -- and letting me get it out!

Oh, and yes POOP is disgusting

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One Moment - Can Change Everything

I wake up in a euphoric state. The sun is shining, Byron Duke and Lukey have decided its a good day to make a snuggle-sandwich with mommy... the only thing missing from my happy little moment is Byron -- but that will be fixed in time

Once the boys get bored and head to the playroom I get up, wash my face & brush my teeth (this is a GOOD start for me -- usually one or both of these rituals is sacrificed for a child). Thinking Kadence is still sleeping I head toward the kitchen to make some coffee. Then I hear my little girl's good morning squeal and about-face for the nursery.

That's when it hits me...

the smell... the image... the horror!

There she stands, my beautiful baby girl, with no diaper on her bum and a shit-eatin' grin on her face -- literally.

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A look in th mirror

Between my husband's deployment, three kids, the Army Reserve, 2 classes, going to the gym, cleaning the house -- oh and let's not forget the dog... I had way too much spare time so why not start a blog?


People often look at me as a Military wife and mother -- they say "you're soooo strong" or "I don't know how you do it" I just shrug it off and smile. I don't see what they do. I see it, my life, as a pretty simple one. I am married to an honorable man who works hard and takes care of us. We are blessed to know he has job security -- and a paycheck every two weeks. We have enough money to buy the things we need and we are content to wait for the things we want. We may be separated at times by geography, but we stay connected in every way possible.

I look at my friends and I see strength. Many are dealing with divorce, unemployment, family strife or illness. I feel like they are strong. I feel like I live in a bubble and they are in the "real world". My friend, Sarah G., always has a kind word and a smile (over the phone). She's going through a tough spot, but she keeps a level head. My sister in law is struggling through a divorce and custody battle, but still fulfills her duties to the Air Force and her daughter. My mother and sister are respected professionals and have been working in their field for a long time. My Aunt Olive fights Parkinson’s Disease with grace and humor. My Aunt Holiday steps up once again to support the household with her medical practice.

You see strength in me? Why? I get up, play with my kids, read some books, write some letters and take it one day at a time. I'm not on anyone else’s schedule and only have myself to answer to. So if you see strength in me -- it is more than likely a reflection of you!

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