When I was little, Christmas was marshmallowy moments of pure happiness sprinkled with glittery anticipation. It was thrilling like nothing else. I’d count down the days as soon as Thanksgiving hit, growing more and more excited with each X on the calendar. I’m sure it drove my mom crazy since now my daughters constantly ask if Christmas is here yet, thus making me totally insane.
My daughter has picked up where I left off
We all remember at least one Christmas that blew our minds and made us scream with pure joy. For me, it was when Santa left $3 in my stocking. I couldn’t believe how rich Santa was to leave me three. whole. dollars. Who knows what I even did with all that cash…probably blew it on candy. And to think those three dollars were probably a last minute idea on my father’s part when he felt like the piles and piles of presents he already got us weren’t enough. I totally get that now.
Then I got older, Christmas turned into something else, and the only thing that has brought back any kind of happiness to it, is my children. Now it’s simply about making Christmas as special for them as possible. I struggle with wanting to give them everything their little hearts desire, and not giving them too much, fearing it’ll make them greedy little jerks…
More than all the toys, I hope we’re giving them magic, the kind they unwrap and keep in their hearts, the kind that will always bring them happiness. I want them to feel the wonder of a holiday that’s about so much more than the things they asked Santa for. Christmas is going to change for them as the years keep coming, but I always want them to feel that certain spark of excitement because I realize we don’t get enough of those as we get older.
I’ve given birth for the third time!
It doesn’t have ten fingers and ten toes, or a perfect button nose. It’s not a boy or a girl…it’s a BOOK! And to get it out into the world was nothing short of a miracle.
I’m thrilled to announce the birth of my first book,
One Funny Mummy Defines Parenthood (in 140 Characters or Less)
I’m not claiming to be a parenting expert, but I’m sort of an expert when it comes to delivering babies and punchlines. I much prefer to deliver the latter even though it’s not easier, and sometimes it’s just as painful, but it’s rewarding in very similar ways.
While I normally feel bad for babies born in the month of December, I’m super happy that my baby is just in time for Christmas. Just in time to be stuffed into every stocking you come across. Because who doesn’t want to wake up on Christmas morning and laugh about parenthood?
The book is a best-of collection of my funny-because-they’re-true tweets that perfectly sum up parenthood. Get yourself a giant cup of coffee, (or a giant mimosa) settle into the couch that’s covered in shredded wrapping paper and plastic packaging, and read the whole thing while the kids play with their new toys.
It’s the perfect gift for anyone who likes to laugh or needs to laugh, but doesn’t have a lot of time to read anything longer than a sentence (ahem, that’s everybody these days)! You’ll feel great knowing you did your part to spread a little holiday cheer this season, not to mention, you’ll be my favorite person ever.
Plus, if you don’t buy my book it’s like saying my baby is ugly…and you don’t want to be that person.
But I care. A lot.
Like most parents, I want the best for my children. But to give them the best means putting my own wants and needs on hold which can be very hard to do. It means putting my phone down, turning my distracted mind off, and interacting with them. It means reading books together when I’d rather not, going for walks when I’d rather not, playing games when I’d rather not. It’s fighting this feeling of not doing anything worthwhile. It’s reminding myself that these are the things that are actually worthwhile. These are the ways to create a fulfilled child. (You know, the whole reason we bring these little people into the world in the first place.)
Just the other day my husband and I received the highest compliment you can get as parents of young kids. A woman sitting near us in a restaurant said that we had lovely children who were so well-behaved. Granted, she might’ve had a little too much vino and we had only been there about 20 minutes before she left, so she saw them in their prime–while the crayons were still keeping them busy and the sugar from their chocolate milks hadn’t kicked in yet. Nonetheless, I stood up to accept my parent of the year award and to make a heartfelt speech about sacrifice and selflessness to our fellow diners. Kidding. We thanked her and then snickered that boy had we fooled her.
Why should I care what this complete stranger thought when I know my kids are well-behaved? I’m well aware of what it’s taken to make them this way–most of my sanity and all of my patience. At least in that moment it felt like my hard work had paid off. I guess that’s what I was thanking her for…for noticing.
I have so much I want to accomplish, yet by the time I’m done trying to mold my mini-mes into self-sufficient decent human beings who feel loved and understood, I’m just too mentally and physically exhausted to do anything but zone out to the world and keep ignoring everything I’ve put on the back burner. So I remind myself that this time in their lives where they actually want me to be a part of everything they do is short-lived and that my time is better spent sharing life with them even if it costs me my own.
Another week has gone by and let me tell you, it was a doozy! And by doozy, I mean it sucked, which in turn made my tweets suck. But that’s how it goes in the parenting tweet writing world, my friends. Some weeks it’s a piece of cake and others it’s a shit sandwich. Here’s hoping we get back to cake. Everyone loves cake.
This week was tough because I’ve been sick. Which got me thinking, most of being a parent is feeling like you’re always coming down with something. I’m at the point where I’ll be surprised once I feel good, not the other way around. But I shouldn’t complain, for the most part we were all healthy for the entire month of February which seems like a miracle. All the hand-sanitizing and vitamin-popping we were doing paid off. Sadly, it all caught up with us and three out of four of us are down. Anyway, maybe a little laughter will bring us back up. Enjoy my top 3 tweets from this past week.
I’m just like any other parent. Happiness and sarcasm are two of life’s most wonderful things. Of course I want my children to grow up to be happy adults who are smart enough to know how to use sarcasm and also so they know how to interpret most of what I say.
See, there’s some of that sarcasm I’m talking about. I don’t really think it’s great that the days are so long that I can’t even remember the beginning of them. Maybe the word I should’ve used was insane because it’s absolutely crazy how much happens in just one day of parenthood.
Thank you, Parenthood for teaching me my limits when it comes to children and to booze. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that kids are their own kind of hangover even when you haven’t been drinking, and parenting with a hangover is the absolute worst thing in the world.
Cheers to another week of tweets!
Some popular sites on Twitter put out these “best of the best” weekly lists so if one of your tweets is chosen and included it’s kind of a big deal (but also not really). Being on these lists and then not being on these lists can take a toll on your tweet-writing confidence (at least it has for me). So I’ve decided to make my own list, damnit! Here are my top 3 tweets from this past week.
Ok, maybe I have my percentages backwards or maybe it’s more like a 50/50 split. One thing I know for sure is that in parenthood there’s always a lot of crap on the floor.
My kids have amazing selective hearing and incredibly poor timing.
Starting immediately! I never knew going to the bathroom alone was a luxury until I became a parent.
Hope you enjoyed this week’s tweets. I’m sure my kids will
frustrate inspire me to write even better ones next week.
Movies! You remember–those things you used to watch before you became a parent. I’m lucky if I get to watch A movie a year these days. I’m not talking about all the children’s movies I have to listen to while doing dishes or folding laundry or picking up toys everywhere. I’m talking about movies with real actors, dialogue instead of sound effects, and an actual plot line. In parenthood, it’s always too late to start a movie, and someone always falls asleep (depending on who got to choose it). Since I haven’t seen anything new, I’ve made a list of my favorites where the titles describe parenthood perfectly.
- Dazed & Confused — cause that’s how you wake up every day as a parent.
- Reality Bites — cause the reality of parenthood bites compared to what you’d thought it’d be.
- Misery — cause even when you’re sick and miserable, you still have to parent.
- Groundhog Day — cause every single day you do the exact same thing over and over and over.
- There Will Be Blood — cause kids are insane and fall down just standing still.
- Clueless — cause that’s how you’ll feel about your parenting skills.
- Sleepless in Seattle (or whichever city you live in) — cause you never sleep again.
- Fight Club — cause you break up more fights than a referee in a boxing match.
- From Dusk till Dawn — cause that’s the only time you get to yourself but you have to spend it trying to sleep.
- The Neverending Story — cause anytime your kids tell a story, it’s neverending.
These are called dvds in case you don’t know
My father grew up walking the country roads of rural Georgia. He spent his childhood walking everywhere–to town, to school, to the neighbor’s farm that was miles away. He passed down his love of walking to me and now I’m hoping to share it with my daughters. They’re finally old enough that we don’t need a stroller anymore, which is nice, but stressful in different ways. They’re loose and I’m outnumbered and there are no sidewalks here and I have to corral them like wild turkeys.
When we were young, my brothers and I went for walks with our dad almost every night after dinner, now that I think about it, it was probably to give my mom a break from our constant noise because normally she stayed behind.
We’d set off on our usual route and along the way I had my small detours like balancing along the bricks of a certain driveway or a shortcut through another. We always passed The Purple Lady’s house, where, I kid you not, every single thing was purple–the house, the car, the flowers, even her hair!
Strolling along, I’d ask Papa to tell me stories from his childhood. Sometimes he’d tell me all about going to school in a tiny one room schoolhouse, walking however many miles with a group of kids he could still name as if he’d seen them the day before. And he’d tell me about the first pair of glasses he got and how he was so amazed he could finally see ants on the ground. Or how he and his older brother JR got into all sorts of mischief, pulling pranks on everyone. Toward the end of our walk, I’d run ahead and put my hands and feet in the imprints on the sidewalk on Lancaster St. right before saying hello to the yellow lab that always barked at us as we passed by.
We forget pieces of our childhood until we have children of our own and they remind us what it used to be like. I hadn’t thought about these walks for a long time until I took my girls for one yesterday. Just like my detours, they found their own along a rocky pathway, where I followed behind, feeling that long-lost spark of adventure. Then they hopped from one stepping stone to the next at the house on the corner. The big one pointed out pretty white blossoms blooming on a tree while the little one picked dandelions to carry, and I felt like a kid again, which is to say, happy.