Adventures in Dating my Kids.

At our church, I've been taking a parenting bible class. It's been really fun, and generally makes me feel like a lousy outstanding parent. Yes, it's been a good learning experience. Something I've learned that I need to start doing is spend some time alone with each child. Like a mommy-date if you will.  At first I thought, Yeah, right! I barely have time to poop alone, and when I do snatch time alone, I run zig zagging, looking over my shoulder like an asylum escapee waiting for the shot of tranquilizers in my back!

But then I thought it over a bit and realized that my kids would probably enjoy it because I am awesomesauce...... ~sigh.~ 

So I started with the oldest kid.

On that Thursday when my sitter came, I reluctantly went and picked up Jaeli from school. Seeing her excited 14 year old face made me hope this would be fun and it would be ok that I forfeited my "mommy alone shopping time A.K.A. Target wandering time" for "one on one kid date time". (Because, as you know, most 14 year old kids turn into 16 year old kids who can't stand to be around their parents. We've all been there.)

We headed to the mall- the cornucopia of all things fun and teenagery- fancy $10 coffees and smoothies at Caribou, cool cheap clothing stores like Forever 21 and Deb, and plenty of hot teenage boy oogling. (For my daughter. Not me.)

The first thing we did was get some ridiculously expensive coffee drinks. I love strolling through the mall with a hot coffee in hand. It relaxes me. We spent a couple of hours browsing clothes, laughing at hairstyles (there was sure alot of throwback 80's mom hair out that day!), and taking stupid looking "selfies." It was fun, and I know my daughter enjoyed having me all to herself. I know that someday she may not want to hang out with me in favor of giggling about me to her friends, but that day is not here yet, and she had a good time with her old mom. I learned something kinda cool about her. She's apparently taken on her step-dad's spending habits...in that she doesn't like to spend her money. At all. It's kind of funny and curious to me, a self-proclaimed shopaholic. But I'm glad for her. And she's oblivious to boys looking at her. For now. (While her back was turned I punched the boys in the throat and drug them behind the displays.)

(Not drugged. Dragged. I dragged them. I did NOT drug them....)

Anyway, we had a good time.

The next week, I again succumbed to the guilt of needing to spend one-on-one time and took one of my other daughters, Brielle.

Brielle is a girly girl, and totally dressed up for our date. We talked about school on the ride to the bakery. We chose the bakery because #1) I love the bakery. #2) She loves sweets too! We ordered these lovely huge cookies covered in frosting and giggled when our teeth turned green from the colors.

We went to Target and bought lots of things, talking and laughing like we never do at home. To tell you the truth, we don't really get along alot. We butt heads. She's kinda bratty and stubborn. And so am I.

So I was really happy when she slipped her little nail polished fingers in mine and grinned up at me and told me how much fun she was having. I was surprised that I was having a genuinely fun time too. She sweet- talked me into buying a headband (for her 100th day of school), a necklace at the Limited (they were buy one get one), and new socks and leggings (because they were leopard...Who needs an excuse to buy anything leopard?!) Funny thing about her is she has excellent taste in outfits. She's only 5, but she dresses up like she's meeting the Queen of England most days. She picked out a bra set for me. (Of course it's her favorite color- pink.) I loved it!

We had a really fun time too.

This week was the boy's birthday. I have 2 boys, but one is the baby. So this one is The Boy. It's also my OTHER daughter's birthday. So me and my husband decided to surprise them with a trip to Airmaxx, a local trampoline park. We headed out after school, and they were so excited when we arrived! Just the two of them, and the two of us!

We purchased the required socks and I surprised my husband by telling him that we were jumping too. I used the bathroom because, you know, after 6 kids your bladder really doesn't need any extra excuse to dribble everywhere. Let alone the bouncing on the trampoline action. And after 2 cups of tea!

Anyhoo, I had thought ahead and thank goodness wore a sports bra because I figured I didn't want to take any kids' eyes out with my boombooms.

The kids (and us!) had an absolute blast! We raced each other, pushed each other, pelted each other with dodgeballs, did somersaults (and I peed a little), did cheerleader-style toe-touches (peed a little more), and bounced off the walls. (and peed a lot.) Daddy tried some cool jumping moves...massive FAIL. Daddy and I laughed about the controlfreakonapowertripwithawhistle girl who kept giving our rowdy family dirty looks. "Don't climb on that!" "NO diving into the foam blocks!" "NO running!" "NO having FUN!!!!" Yeesh. Takes her job very serious! (Side note: Why is there always one of these people no matter where you go? Waterpark, Zoo, Themepark, Amusement Park. Always some teenager on a power trip. Weird.)

The kids got special slushies, and we headed to the wonderful magic mall for their birthday gifts. After spending literally 45 minutes of each of them trying to find the PERFECT lego set, we ate and shared dinner in the food court. We had a fantastic time. (I *may* have smelled like pee. But I blamed it on the chinese food.)

I am now convinced of the valuableness of this one-on-one time with them. Or two on two. It has been so much fun to spend time with them away from the herd. They are so much different alone than together. More fun. More talkative. More cute.

I'm finding that I "like" them more for them. Not just loving them because they are my kids. I mean, that's a given, but having fun and laughing is what I'm good at. (Like the only thing, really.) And it turns out, they are good at it too! Spend some time alone with your kids. Even if all you do is board the mothership, Target. They will have a fun time having you to themselves, and you will learn funny things about them. 

Apparently I took a wrong turn on my life-path.....

I'm kind of a crappy mom.
And, apparently, I'm not even supposed to be a mom.


I love books- I love looking at them, smelling them, carrying them. They transport me to lovely places, teach me cool things, and I love looking at interesting pictures. I also really like Oprah. She's cool shit. She's rich, but classy and doesn't act all snobby. So, I rented her book from the library.

In Oprah's book, there was a quiz toward the middle, helping people figure out their best "life path" or some crap. The results were supposed to show you if you were a nurturer, leader, creative type, problem solver, ect. As I am a lovely type A who takes every single quiz presented to her (even the "Is my boyfriend mad at me?" and "Am I a good friend?" quizzes in Seventeen in my early teen years) I whipped out a sheet of paper and took the quiz.

I scored the highest in the creative, introverted category. The lowest score came in the "nurturer" category. I think there were 7 total categories. Apparently this quiz thinks I am better suited to paint or decoupage alone in a cave than to raise offspring.

I tend to agree.

I am selfish. I buy special mommy-treats and hide them from the rabid beasts who call themselves my children. I hide good chocolates, beautifully wrapped decadent creamy truffles. The packaging is almost as orgasmic as the chocolate itself. I hide in the bathroom and lock the door and turn the lights out so I can crap without a squirming child on my lap, and a whiny toddler poking me. They can't find me with the lights out. I hide my expensive makeup and clothes from my pilfering, experimental teenager. I read fun books like "Fifty shades of Grey" to remind myself that I am, indeed, a hot blooded chick. I try to dress up at least half the days in the week to show myself and the world that I haven't lost my ability to put together an outfit without stains, or consisting of only pajama pants and my husband's old sweatshirts. I treasure my leopard printed pony hair ballet flats, my (also leopard) peep-toe stilettos, and my Frye boots. I love my clean house and my reading corner with my own cute, comfy chair and table for my books, wine, and chocolates stashed in the drawer. I tell them to leave me alone every afternoon so I can have "mommy time." I like my own space.

Then there are women tho lose themselves in being a mother. They are excellent at the nurturing. They love being a mom, and it shows in everything they do. They can read "Goodnight Moon" 784 times in a nice, soft voice, without swearing. (I'm all, "Goodnight moon, Goodnight room, Goodnight to the fat f*cking cow humping the moon...") They wear their sweatpants and unkempt hair like a badge of honor. They don't care if their house is messy- they love the little handprints all over their sliding glass door. They hang embroidered poems proudly proclaiming that very fact. They trip over legos at night and chuckle to themselves about kids being kids. They patiently answer the same question 42 times in an hour without screaming. They drive toy and fry strewn minivans, and pin their kid's sports buttons to their coats like military awards. They are proud to be their children's everything.

I can't. Don't get me wrong. Of course, I love my kids. I love them so much I want to squeeze them and bite their ears. Which I do. Often. You would think I could only handle one child- maybe 2. No, I have 6. I love them all. If you asked me to pick some to get rid of, I wouldn't be able to. They all are my favorite. (I personally hate mothers who say they have a favorite. I was the least favorite of my own mother- a fact my sister loved to point out.) But I digress. I tried, for a few years, to be "the perfect mother." I tried to keep our house all calm and zen and toys and fun and reading and schedules....and I went crazy. Literally needed to see a shrink. I was told to go out and "find myself" and all that. I realized I was doing a crappier job trying to be a perfect, good mom than I did when I was just flying by the seat of my pants.

The thing is, I don't really enjoy playing barbies or making lego things. I don't like coloring or playing games. I don't like glue projects, family magazines, or any of that. I like to lay on the floor while my kids drive cars over the mountains mud puddles on my chest. I talk to them and try to make them laugh. I tickle them and play hide and go seek. I chase them and hold them down and slobber on them. We laugh about farts, poop and private parts. We go places, and I teach them useless facts. I instill in them my love of reading. I try to root out and encourage their strengths and help them with their weaknesses. My kids know they are loved and cared for. I know there are alot of other moms out there like me. Just because we are not the ideal mom: with the apron and cookies, the leader of girl scouts, religion teacher, minivan lover, homework helper, classroom volunteer, swing pusher, den mother;  it doesn't mean we love our kids any less. I may not be a mom-of-the-year type, and my kids may never buy me a "best mom ever" printed sweatshirt with bears, hearts and bows, but that's ok.

I'm just a mom like you, and we all want our kids to be loved and live their lives to the fullest. How we get there is just logistics.