A Mami's Letter

To:  My Three Dear, Sweet, Lovely Children

I DIDN'T WANT YOU.

Ouch! I bet you didn't see that one coming.  That may seem like a rough way to start out a letter to you kids, but you have known me all of your lives.  I am not one to sugar coat things. The truth is, before I learned of each and every one of your conceptions, I was not intending nor trying to have a baby.  In some cases, I was doing everything "right" to NOT have a baby.  I wasn't day dreaming about you.  I wasn't buying clothes for the child that I might one day have.  I wasn't praying against all odds that you would become mine.  So for all intents and purposes, though it sounds rather harsh, I did not want you.

My life was going along just fine before each of you.  I knew of no empty hole in my being that needed to be filled.  I was not sitting alone wanting a person to appear in my life that I would need to care for day in and day out.  I didn't have a longing or a want for you to come in to my life.

But you did! Each of you did in your own special, and surprising way. 

And...

As you may expect from your very real, but also sometime sap of a mami...

I may not have "wanted" you, but I am ever so glad you came anyway. And I want you terribly now, just as I have since the moment I found out about you.  Though I did not have the longing for a child at any of the times I became pregnant, when I found out I was going to be meeting each of you, overjoyed is not a big enough word to describe the emotions felt.  Finding out about each of you was like a child finding a giant Christmas present that accidentally was hidden and forgotten about. They weren't wanting, missing or longing for it, but once they saw the shiny paper and their name on the tag, they couldn't wait to open it and have what was inside! 

A... finding out I was going to be a mother after less than a year of marriage and while we were both still in college was terrifying to say the least. Learning that I was already four and a half months along the first time the doctor said "you're pregnant" was so far beyond shocking that shock was barely even visible in the rear view mirror.  You came at the wrong time, when we lived in the wrong house and  didn't even have enough money or experience as grown ups to take care of ourselves, let alone a whole new little person.You made me become an adult and I love you so very much for that.  I "wanted" to party with friends, graduate school, buy an amazing house and have a dog before I had a baby.  Instead of all of those things, I had you.  Boy, oh boy, is that ever the best trade in the history of all time!  Oh Bubba, you are my son with whom I am well pleased!  You are growing into an amazing little man.  I see, as I have since you were first able to interact with others, what a caring heart you have for people and it brings more joy to me than any party, or degree or house (or even my own dog) ever could.  You are silly, smart, handsome and I am so lucky to be able to call you mine!

J... I'm not particularly proud of it, but your daddy and I weren't married yet.  We talked about it and had a ring and all, but no wedding had taken place.  We didn't know where we were going to be living/moving and I had just finally gotten my arm back to normal from a pretty serious break and bone replacement.  I had been very ill as well, just before we found out about you.  But with the news that I was better soon came the news that you were alive inside me. It wasn't at all the right time and I had been wanting a home, a wedding, some adjustment time for the new little family forming with your big brother, daddy and me and of course, wanting more money before I thought of having another baby.  But, what I wanted flew out the window when I first saw you on the monitor.  I saw your little heart beat in side your chest and it made mine feel like it was going to explode with joy.  I was so nervous when I found out you were a girl because we all know, Mami doesn't do girl, but look how I have embraced your pinks and purples, ribbons and dresses.  I want you and all of those girly things you come with, my JarBear.  You are growing so fast, almost 2 now.  You are smart and funny and I cannot imagine a day in my life without you in it.

B... We were too busy to even think about another baby, let alone to want one.  We already had one and we did not want another, at least not right then.  We had baseball, basketball and football games to go to and teams to coach, we had diapers to change, walking and talking to teach, were just starting to get a little sleep at night and really wanted to keep doing that and we definitely wanted to be spending money on our new little family of four, not five.  But, there were those two little blue lines that the doctor confirmed were correct.  And very soon there after, there you were in my arms.  I was so delighted to have you there, because I had desperately wanted you to be there for the past 8 months.  I needed you there, once I knew you could be, to make myself and my family feel whole.  Beanie Baby, you have completed our odd little family of five.  At six months, you are beginning to show the world who I always knew you were.  You are caring (always sure to cry along when you hear your sister), strong (I am pretty sure you will be beating your big sister up as you as you can stand on your own two feet), loving (oh, those sweet, slobbery kisses) and your smile can light up even the darkest room.  I cannot wait to see what the future holds for you, but for now I am content having you as my little snuggle bug during those all to often sleepless nights.

There you have it, my three little monkeys.  The truth about you is that, to quote one of my favorite movies, you three "are everything I never knew I always wanted."

He Put What? In the What?

"Stop splashing and take your thumb out of your bottom!!!"  It is a sentence my baby sister cannot keep from reminding me has actually come out of my mouth.  She was little, maybe 9 or 10, when she stood in my home and heard me yell those very words at my son (who was 2 at the time).

He was in the bathtub and making a royal mess.  I heard the water splashing over the edges of the tub, which bothered me enough to warrant me walking over to see what exactly he was doing to cause such a mess.  That was when I saw it.  At first I thought he was just sitting on his hand, but OH NO, that was not what he was doing.  He had his teeny, tiny, perfectly-formed little thumb wedged ever so gently in his tooshy.  EW!  I was beyond mortified and so the words flew from my mouth before I had a chance to really consider them.

I was shocked after the sentence erupted from me (nowhere in life are you ever prepared to put those words together and have it sound appropriate).  I looked at my baby sister's face and we both began to laugh hysterically.  In this moment, I remembered something my very wise cousin (who is older and the mother of two boys) had told me about little boys when I found out the bundle of joy I was carrying was indeed going to be of the male species:  "Congratulations! A boy!  They will put ANYTHING in ANY hole at ANY time!"

You can't imagine it when you look at the adorableness that is my son in these pictures.  Can't imagine it unless you are the parent of a boy, I should say. You don't think that such an endearing little creature would be able to do something so gross, nor continue to do equally absurd things throughout his childhood, but it can, oh can it ever.

Little boys must just be equipped with some sort of ability or desire that their female counterparts don't come with, to find things and see if and how they fit into other things.  Often one or both of these things seem to be parts of their bodies. I assumed that it would fade with age, and I am still hoping that it does.  As for now, I am just finding that it is different things that get stuck different places. 

At two, it was his thumb in his bum. What is a little more concerning to me is that it was that very same thumb I would (and shhhhh... when he's tired sometimes I still do) find stuck in his mouth at nap time, bed time,  or really any time until the age of four or so.  At four, he began sticking his toys in my shoes.  I would find army men, Legos, cars and so many other items tucked away in my shoes.  Many toenails were damaged before I learned to check before shoving my foot into my boots or tennies. As he has gotten older, I have lost count of how many times I have yelled out "don't stick that in there!" just in the nick of time, heading off the impending doom that would have followed him completing the act.

Whether it is a pencil in his ear, or his toes in the DVD player, I know now to watch out for him and to be ready at any moment thanks to the wonderful words of advice from a very smart lady who has walked the path of mothering boys ahead of me (to give credit where it is due, she has walked this path very successfully and has two of the most impressive young men as sons I have ever had the pleasure of knowing). So moms of boys who are younger than mine and friends who are expecting boys sometime soon... I would like to remind you to be ready because  your little men will indeed "put ANYTHING, in ANY hole at ANY time!!!"

Mom Selfies

Pictures are EVERYWHERE!  Selfies are all around us!  We cannot escape them.  I have tried, for the most part, to keep selfies off of my list of everyday practices.  I will sometimes take one to shoot to my sister or husband as a joke, but as a general rule, I keep my camera busy taking photos of kids sleeping (because it doesn't happen often), sporting events, concerts, kids cleaned and dressed up (again, because it is rare), family gatherings, and for work some very messy and uninteresting construction sites.

This morning, as it was a VERY early morning after a VERY long night spent up with a baby who is not taking the flu vaccine lightly, I sat up skimming my way through Facebook.  I saw a variety of posts and links to articles about parenting and motherhood all giving advice about what instruments to learn to play for your six month old so that they will become musical prodigies or what conditioner to use on your toddler's hair so that their locks will flow like seas of gold down their backs (if you are lucky enough to actually have a toddler with hair, this might appeal to you.)  All of these posts were accompanied with pictures.  They were of beautiful models of mothers (which I am not) and children that I am still not convinced were not really perfectly molded cyborgs.

Needless to say, I was a little jealous of the beautiful and well-kept families that were in these pictures.  They looked nothing like my family or me in a perfectly posed picture, let alone on a day-to-day basis. In my sleepless state, my jealousy turned in to more of an anger.  I began to think about what frauds these authors were to have such pictures accompany their articles.  Who were these people to write on parenthood, messy lives and how to cope, if they were not willing to actually show what parents and children look like in REAL life?

Probably not so intelligently, I made the decision right then to post a REAL MOM SELFIE:

As you can see, it is not a photo that has been set to look like a tired mother with a few hairs out of place and some flour on her cheek.  It is not a gorgeous model in beautiful pajamas (that no real mother would wear) yawning and stretching to portray what the photographer thinks a sleepy mother would look like. It is a picture of sleep deprivation, late nights from remembering homework is due when you should be tucking a 10-year-old in, teaching a toddler to sleep in a new bed, holding a 6 month old as she endlessly nurses through the night because she just doesn't feel well.  It is an honest picture of dirty, smelly, sleepy, old me.

This is what motherhood really looks like.  It is not to say that there are not those beautiful, wonderful, carefree times you see in photos like a mother pushing her son on the swings, sweetly rocking your baby to sleep while listening to soft music in the background or lots of hugs and silly faces with your toddler.  But this is a part of motherhood that not too many people are willing to acknowledge exists and often times dominates.

If you have the guts, I encourage YOU to join me in showing what parenthood really looks like (I say parenthood because I know there are lots of dads out there who take on the primary care giver role and have it just as rough.)  Post a pic somewhere on social media of what the not so pretty (yet oh so worth it) side of parenthood looks like!  Also, if you see a fellow parent who is out in public (god forbid) looking like one of these photos, join me in making it a mission to offer a hand or a few words of encouragement.  (We are on a team here, not competing for some phony Mom of the Year award!)

Do I Smell Like Poop?

It's a funny question.  Yes, I am smiling as I sit here and type it.  Suddenly, though, a bit of a scowl has taken over as I realize that it is not funny and that I may, in fact, smell like poop.

I shower.  I promise.  I use the nice perfumey soaps, shampoos, conditioners, detanglers, shave gels and the works, each having their own enchanting aroma.  I exit the shower smelling like a stunning meadow of flower blossoms in the springtime.  I dry off with my fluffy towel that is laundered in the freshest of lavender scents and then lotion my body in creamy hints of cherries and almonds.  I put on clean clothing and even douse myself in a very generous portion of  Ralph Lauren Romance as I make my way out of the restroom to face my children, my husband and my day.

While I am at home, I don't give too much thought to it.  I am in my house and  I am used to living with random odors, noises and messes that seem to spontaneously spring up from the floor beneath.  My nose has become accustomed to the smells (yeah, that grosses me out a little bit as well).  It is not until I exit the home to load the car in preparation for the day and I smell fresh air that I suddenly begin to reflect on the odors of my home and quite possibly me.

Other parents out there, I hope, can identify with me on this one.  I sincerely pray that it is not just me with two under two that feels like my house has become a human manure factory.  More intensely and earnestly, I pray that I do not smell like I am working in one.  But, let's just call a spade a spade here... I AM working in one. I employ two little beasts who are working non-stop to make the Tucker People Poo Factory the most successful one of its kind.  The time that is spent in my dwelling place is filled with cleaning messes, making new messes and cleaning those up, sweating, being thrown up on, having food thrown at me, being peed on and yes... collecting teeny tiny people's poop.

Sometimes (the best times) the poop is collected in neat little packages we call diapers.  More times than I would like to admit, the poo was attempted to be collected in said package, but somehow the package has become defective and the goods are slightly in the package, but more so all over the babies, destroying their clothing, seeping out on to their chairs and toys and Yes... ON ME!!!  When these times happen, I am quick to rush for baths and new clothes, but as I sit in my office today... I begin to wonder... did I miss something???

Okay, after a trip to the restroom to check it out (like I have made on many other occasions when the concern has arisen) I  find that the coast is clear.  I simply smell of sweet perfume and possibly a little sweat accumulated during the intense moments of worry that have just occurred.  Please, moms and dads of little ones, if you are like me... do not fret.  The smell, almost 100% for sure is NOT you.  It is probably the after lunch effects someone in the office did not realize would send you in to such a tizzy or just your nose having flash backs to home sweet home. 

I encourage all of the other parental soldiers to join me in continuing on today with our heads held high, knowing (for today at least) that No, I do NOT smell like poop!!!

My Daughter Is A Genius

I began this day by coming to realize something that I will share with you.  It is in no way meant to be taken as boastful, for I am simply stating what I have finally come to know as fact.  So... here goes:

My Daughter is a Genius!!!!

For anyone who knows me, you may be thinking "the old broad has finally lost it" or maybe a little more nicely "how can a soon-to-be two-year-old be a genius, you fool?"  But I will have you know that I surely have not lost it, and it is very much the truth.   No, I have not had her tested.  No, she has not written any sonnets or made hugely impressive scientific discoveries, but I still hold fast to my claim of her genius.  

I watched her this morning as she brought a penny to me while I was drying my hair.  She didn't eat the penny she found, she didn't stick it in the electric sockets nor did she give it to her baby sister who would have been all too happy to have a breakfast of copper with Abraham Lincoln.  No, she picked it up, brought it to me and said "no money in the mouth, Mami."  What a genius!!!!  Yes, I realize that is a basic skill that you could train most monkeys to do (in sign language of course as they cannot vocalize like we do), but to me it was brilliance at its best.

I put it to you that this 23-month-old wonder holds more intelligence than most adults I have come across in my (yeah, I'm not going there with a real #) years on this planet.  I contend that all parents out there of these amazing little creatures we call "toddlers" should just give up and realize that their children, too, are comprised of pure genius. They are wonderful and absolutely amazing little knowledge leeches that I find myself in complete awe of numerous times throughout my day.

She knows, 8, now 9, now 10, now 15 different colors. She is adding to her vocabulary at a rate any grown linguistic major would be jealous of.  As an adult, I have had a practice of  always thanking God for something I have learned throughout the day. Each night I sit, often TRYING very diligently to think of something new that I have added to my knowledge base.  She is adding items so rapidly that the pictures of her brain's synapses look like the sky on the 4th of July. She is putting together multiple complex ideas that are new to her and then applying them in unison successfully throughout her day.  Not to mention doing all of this while also dealing with the fact that she has absolutely no say whatsoever in what goes on EVER in her life (with the rare exception of the few times that I might actually give in to one of her demands that she "Watch Bear Potty right NOOOOOOWWWWWW!")

Imagine with me, for a moment, that you were sitting at your desk, working on a very important project that is due in just a few moments and you still have several tasks to do to complete it (this is what my genius is doing when she is stacking her blocks one on top of the other ever so gently as she utilizes her newly learned dexterity and digit control).   Now imagine your boss comes up and scoots your chair out from under you, flings you under his/her arm leaving behind your project, your briefcase and every chance you have of finishing your project.  Your boss, tosses you in to the car, buckles you and then informs you that you are going to be riding along while he/she goes grocery shopping, drops a letter off at the post office and then eats at a restaurant that has absolutely nothing you particularly care for at it.  OH.... and your boss wants you to ride along and be a part of all of this without complaint.  Yeah.... I don't think so.  But my little genius, for the most part, is happy to comply with things such as this as I tear her work apart to clean up and head out for my day of errands. She has coping skills beyond that of anything I can imagine (because if my boss did that to me I am pretty sure I would end up behind bars before the day was over.)


It is good to take a moment and look at our kids and appreciate them for all they do and who they really are.  I appreciate that my little lady is going through changes and a rate more rapid than she will ever at any other time in her life.  I appreciate (and am quite frankly a little jealous) that she is learning something new every few seconds and that she is using that knowledge (for the most part) for good.  I love the fact that she is becoming a very capable young lady at the ripe old age of 23 months and I certainly adore the fact that she is, indeed, a genius!!!

Now if you will excuse me... I have to go rescue my genius who has her giant head stuck in the arm of her sweater :)

So... I am new to blogging.  I am not sure how all of this goes, but I am going to give it a try.  I am still completely certain what this blog is for.  It is for me, for sure, to release some of the mess in my head that comes with the everyday life of a full-time working woman and a full-time mother of three: J (girl 23 months) A (boy 10 years) and B (girl six months).  Hopefully, it will find its way to you and serve some purpose in your life.  I am fully aware and even accepting that this said purpose may be to make you laugh (with or more correctly AT me at times), allow you a venue to judge me or maybe even help you out at times.  I hope some of you enjoy this adventure with me... Cheers to happy blogging!