Eggs, Teeth, and Business Trips

While Mister Man is on his way on a business trip, abandoning us for a week, The Redhead and I decided to start a project.  An easy project.  That was all for The Redhead to do. She used those nifty wooden ovals from the Dollar Tree, our homemade modpodge, lots of pretty papers, and some fun scissors.

And at some point while I was getting out all of the supplies, she lost a tooth.  Apparently the tooth fairy will be making a visit tonight.

 And while she made something totally different from what I would have created, I love it all the more.

She even sketched out her plans.

And we'll have these for years.  Long after she has lost every last baby tooth.

My Oreo has a Mustache

Nabisco has geniuses working for them.

Because an Oreo has never been tastier.

 I can't buy these again.

A Perfect Use for Plastic Eggs

I know a couple people thought I was a hoarder last year as we were packing up our lives for moving.  I certainly felt like one.  And it was no different as I was proclaiming how we had to save all the bags of plastic eggs that were abandoned in my basement.  I mean, really??  Plastic eggs?  Terra, come on now.  But I knew what I was going to do with those eggs, even last year.  I knew they'd somehow be part of a wreath.  Just another cheap project made with the help of my pal, Mr. Glue Gun.  Those eggs were bought last year at both 80% off and 90% off at Hobby Lobby.  I'm glad I bought several packages of those tiny plastic eggs, because otherwise, I wouldn't have had enough.  I used every last one.  And maybe you can't tell, but they aren't standard sized plastic eggs.  They're much smaller, which is part of what drew me towards them. This wreath isn't perfect.  I can point out all sorts of things I'd change, just like with any quick project.  But there's a simple sweetness factor going for it that I admire.  That, and bringing them from Kansas wasn't completely pointless.  Fortunately.  That vintage ribbon came in handy too.  And that wreath I bought for a different project.  I love it when a project was meant to be and when it barely costs anything.  

Spring Has Sprung

Just between the two of us, I stole that title from a headline I once put on a sports story in high school.  Only it was "Spring Sports Have Sprung" and I thought I was oh, so clever.  Well, I sort of was.  I still sort of am.  I'll attribute it to a healthy ego.

But here's a sneak peek at what spring looks like out our house on this fine spring day.

And that's just a small sample.

They Call it 'The Mommy Wars'

Up until this past Friday, I never really used the phrase, "Mommy Wars," and then there it was, out of my mouth and into a conversation.  When did this become a term?  The other mother I was speaking to had never heard of a such a thing, and she has seven children.  But she also admitted she doesn't read blogs, heck, she barely gets on a computer.  And for a second I sort of envied her.  Not for the seven children (there explains the lack of time for reading blogs), but for the fact she had never heard this phrase before.


But whether you have heard this term or not, blogs have been bouncing this phrase back and forth for a year or more.  As for what the war is over, it varies.  Amount of children.  Staying at home or working.  Nursing or formula feeding.  Vaccines.  Everything is up for dispute.  Even the Pinterestese.  Co-sleeping versus the crib.  C-sections.  Elf on the Shelf!  And somehow, women blessed with offspring have turned these things into a competition, into a one woman show.  Unnecessarily.  Everything's a war.



And I'm here to tell you what I've told so many others; I want no part in it.  Competition is such a turn-off for me anyway.  Even though a few family members didn't get the memo, I have this thing about avoidance when it comes to confrontation of any kind.  Competition falls under that category.  Me throwing big parties?  That has nothing to do with trying to show off.  It's just me.  In all my obnoxious glory.  My efficiency tends to tick a lot of people off.  By admitting I'm a Democrat, somehow people took this as being abrasive.  Um...okay?  By the way, these too are people who admit their politic persuasions.  These are also typically people I fear.  As they are confrontational.  They are competitive.  They can be abrasive.  And I'm fine with that, as long as they let me hang out in the corner.  By myself.  In the fetal position.


Part of me wants to take it as a compliment that these people think I can handle it.  But I'm too busy hiding under a table.  Or behind a copy machine.  The latter actually happened once.  It really did.


I.am.a.coward.



So you can only imagine how I do with the fierce competitive nature that is motherhood.  I'm hyper-sensitive anyway.  I like peace.  I'm a people-pleaser.  I have myself convinced that all we're all trying to do is just survive this whole motherhood thing.  At least that's what I'm doing.  I have myself convinced I can't possibly be alone in this thought.



And I only start to care that you're doing things differently than me when you say I'm pumping poison into The Redhead's veins by vaccinating her.  That I'm setting her up for Autism.  Or that I abandoned her in her crib because I didn't co-sleep.  Or that breastfeeding is so extremely nasty you can't believe I'd ever do such a travesty.  That it's not even better than formula anyway.  Or that by not homeschooling I'm subjecting her to a life of mediocrity.  That by not styling The Redhead's hair until she was two and a half that I was making her look homely.  Or by weening her at thirteen months from nursing that I'm depriving her of that special bond and that I should let her nurse as long as she wants, even age four.  Or that by throwing her big parties I'm spoiling her and she'll end up as another raging brat.  Or that I should never apologize to my child for overreacting because my power is absolute.  What?!?  Or by telling me that staying home with her was wasting my potential.  Or that going back to work was also another case of abandonment.  The lecture I received on how I should have fought against having a Cesarean and that they probably only pushed it to make their tee time.  Or how that time her preschool teachers left her in the park alone at age three and didn't notice until I met a stranger holding my child's hand, that that incident was MY fault, my child's fault, that I should have taught my three year old better, that I have no idea how hard being a preschool teacher is.  (By the way, I was a preschool teacher.)    That by having only one child, we've subjected her to a lonely life.  I could seriously go on for paragraphs.  Perhaps I'm just sensitive, but all of those comments get to me.  No matter how much I believe I've made the right decisions.  And yes, I have actually heard all of them.  All of them.  Direct quotes, actually.  I just spared you from the plethora of quotations.




It's become yet another trend for mothers like me to blog about such a topic and beseech an end to such arguments and debates.  Because really, aren't we all just trying to get through this as unscathed as possible?  For our children to require as little therapy as they grow?  Why does everything have to be a competition?  Why does one child knowing something at a certain age have to impact another to push it on their child? What??  Why do people want to compete over cupcakes and site word cards and children's hairstyles?  Sure, I love baking cupcakes, I liked filling out site word cards, and yes, I taught myself how to do The Redhead's hair, but you know what?  I did that for her.  Actually, I did that for me.  I didn't do that for some sort of competition or showcase.  I did that because that's my version of motherhood.  I overdo almost everything.  I'm obsessive and compulsive.  And maybe competition is just other people's version of motherhood.  I have a funny feeling this competitive nature in mothers isn't new.  It's probably been around forever.  It just took being a mother to notice it.


They do say competition brings out the best in people.  I don't feel that way, but I suppose, whatever motivates you.  I don't feel like you have to force your beliefs down everyone's throats or hit "share" on all those photos about naughty vaccines and organic foods.  I don't believe vaccines cause Autism.  I also think there's nothing wrong with hugging your child when they're sick.  But I don't think I should just scream it from rooftops.  I don't need to tell everyone that.  I can almost guarantee the one thing all mothers have in common, independent of our choices to breastfeed or vaccinate or co-sleep is this- we all have a fear of failing or screwing up.  I have to believe that.  Then again, that's just my perspective, and I don't want to start a war or anything.  I also don't want to be perceived a martyr.  I just want to get through this alive.  So if you're looking for me, I'll be the mom hiding under the table, planning parties and making wreaths.

A Wee Bit Irish

It's not a holiday around here without dressing up the cat.

Or some quick art that The Redhead participates in.

Or making some treats for Mister Man's office.

I somehow managed to save those Thin Mints for over a month, just for St. Patrick's Day.  I'm impressed by my willpower.  One of those rare times.  

Or the perpetual toddler also posing for photos all with the promise of a treat.

As you can tell, we were just a wee bit Irish.

A Lucky Day

I adore St. Patrick's Day.  I mostly account that to the fact The Redhead looks absolutely fantastic in green.

Also, when copying and pasting an Irish blessing, it's probably best to triple check it.  Otherwise, "outnumber" becomes two words instead of one and is only spotted after the prints are ordered from Sam's.

A Parade of Photos

We spent this glorious Saturday strolling Old Sacramento for an Irish parade.  We were blessed with 80 degrees, lots of sunlight, all in time for an evening sleepover.  Please allow me to note it was splendid watching a St. Patrick's Day parade again.  We've missed it as the last few years have coincided with our spring break trips.  Back in the day though, the Brookside warm-up parade was our favorite in Kansas City.  Unfortunately we didn't stay the whole time for the Old Sacramento version as The Redhead was convinced she was going to burn and die from the sunlight.  Apparently she's more vampire than Irish.

Regardless, we can share photos of Old Sacramento and the hour of the parade we did watch.