Forever in Sharpie

I was the guest contributor on Earth Monkey Moms last week. This is a blog set up to inspire, encourage and amuse other moms. The following is my post on their site, how exciting to be a part of this!

ENJOY!

I love scrap booking. I have boxes and boxes (ok baby wipe containers) filled with pictures to be one day glamorized on some beautiful paper for the entire world (and by that I mean myself and my reluctant husband) to ogle over.

I realized recently that no one really wants to look at other people’s scrap books, except of course to steal ideas for their own scrap booking enterprises. But for us moms, it feels good doesn’t it? As we look over all those pictures and our perfect little quotes and captions we feel an order to our chaos. Like somehow all the blood, sweat and tears (okay poop could really be added to this list) were worth it. When it’s all summed up on pretty paper it feels a little more manageable.

My scrap books don’t look like everyone else’s though. First of all I really use the word “scrap” literally, I don’t mean to be messy, or uneven, but really I don’t get breaks to go and put together my memories. So I break out the pictures, the glue (which isn’t even acid free…OH THE HORROR) and a Sharpie. Yep I said it, I write my captions with a Sharpie, and I don’t even use a pretty font.

I’m almost embarrassed to show other people my pages, but I suppose these pages are a representation of me, my life, and how I do life. It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s not that I don’t care, it’s that my life is simple, it’s Sharpie simple.

I not only don’t like to share my pages because of my lack of elegantness or cuteness, but also because I record silly things. Sure my scrapbooks have the normal documentation: “Madi took 3 steps” and “Lilly said Mama” but I love to add the real stuff.

For example, when Madi first learned about binoculars, she called them “knockers” that’s in the book, as are; “Madison actually kicked me while I was holding her on the potty seat, as soon as I let her get up she peed all over me.” “Lilly put dog poop in her mouth today, I got it out before she swallowed any, but the look on her face was priceless.” Well you get the point, I’m not a bad mom, I’m just embracing the craziness.

I don’t have time to do pages all the time and I certainly don’t have the brain power to remember all the funny/annoying/cute things my kids and dogs have done, so I keep post it notes everywhere. When one of the kids does something “scrapbook worthy” (and you can tell my standards aren’t ridiculously high) I write it on a note, put the date and stick it to my journal. By the time I actually get to the scrap booking part I have close to 50 notes waiting to be memorialized forever in Sharpie.

I guess the point is this: life isn’t pretty…don’t NOT scrapbook your life because you don’t have the time to make it perfect on paper.

And imagine this… you’re dead and gone (sorry, reality) and your great, great grand kids are in the attic of the beach house you purchased and could never sell. Anyhow, they are playing dress up and find an old box full of scrapbooks. Imagine the look on their faces as they open it and see how life really was for you and your kids. Seeing your handwriting, forever in Sharpie marker. (I’m really trying to make myself feel better about this).

Everyone has those beautiful family pictures; I want the future to see their true roots, the mud on the face, uncombed hair, and saggy diaper reality. This is my everyday and that’s what I scrap. Sure the pretty pictures are nice, we aren’t cavemen after all, but the true representation of our lives is what I’m after.

So get some sticky notes and start documenting all the things that make you laugh and cry (most likely in 20 years they will ALL make you laugh). Get some Sharpie’s, some glue, and when you have time (ahahahaaaa) throw some pages together. Who cares what they look like, if you’re that worried about how they look tell yourself you’ll redo them when you’re retired (liar, just sayin').

Just get it done, your kids, grand kids and great grand kids will thank you, let me be clear, you’ll NEVER hear a “thank you” you’ll just know it’s there when your grand kids can tease their mom about putting dog poop in her mouth.


PS...anyone want to buy a house in the lovely beach town of Lincoln City? No? Darn.

Adorable Terrorsits

I’m exhausted. Plain and simple, exhausted. I’m so tired I feel as though I could sleep for a week and still wake up feeling totally burnt out, cranky and on the verge of tears. The sad part is that I have no huge claim to this exhaustion; I haven’t just run a marathon, I haven’t just traveled the globe, I’m just a mom and a housewife. My days are spent doing everything for everyone else, even showering feels like work right now.

I know this sounds horrible, I know I sound totally pessimistic and well, like a whiny little bitch. I know that I need to just put on my big girl panties, deal with it and keep on trucking, but I wonder…do all new moms feel this way? Am I so totally chemically imbalanced? Is my post partum depression so bad that this isn’t normal? Or is it normal? Does every mom feel this way at one time or another?

Does anyone else not want to fall asleep because they know that within a few short hours they will be awoken by a crying child? Does anyone else get angry when they are awoken by a crying baby? I’m seriously asking… because I feel like the worst mom in the world.

I try to fill my daughters’ days with learning, reading, playing; I want to create an environment where exploration is celebrated. But as my 7 month old crawls around and forces me to get up once again to pull her away from trouble I get so very frustrated.

Yes motherhood is a lot of work, most days I wish I did have a job to go to, just to get a break, just to miss them, to escape the dishes, the laundry, the diapers for a few hours. I know a lot of my readers are probably thinking…HA! You think you have it bad! Or Stop complaining, at least you have a family and children. Don’t get me wrong I do feel blessed for my family, I do love them, I’m just spent. I just want to sleep, to take a bath by myself, to actually have time to shave my legs in the shower, to lie in my bed without one of three different people requiring something from me.

I guess I’m just selfish, somewhere between laundry and bedtime stories, I’ve lost myself.

I remember a time when I could look in the mirror and had time to pluck a stray eyebrow. I remember a time when the thought of going shopping wasn’t something that sent anxiety through my entire being. I remember a time when the phone rang I actually felt excited about answering it and having a wonderful uninterrupted conversation with a friend, but times have changed.

Now I don’t even look in the mirror, and when I do it’s followed by a feeling of loss as I evaluate my stretch marks and scars. I look at my tattoo that once represented my freedom and now can only be described as a bug that has been smeared on a windshield. (For anyone out there who hasn’t yet had children, even if your DR tells you that you can’t have kids, NEVER get a tattoo on your stomach!)

Most of all I remember a time when I smiled regularly, when I woke up excited about my day and the activities that I had planned, I remember going on vacation and not worrying about the one’s I left behind for the week. Now I wish I could go on vacation, but the thought of all the work that would have to be done in order to arrange childcare, dog care, house care, etc etc…well it’s not even worth it.

So what do I do, besides whine to my computer screen, praying someone will validate these feelings…begging “does ANYONE understand?”

I guess I do what I always do…I breathe, I force a smile, I pray….and I repeat, over and over and over, because sometimes that’s all I can do.

Now I would love to finish this but my baby has filled her diaper once again, I’m laughing at myself now because I’m actually excited about this, only a mom who has experienced a constipated baby will understand my joy at this moment in time.