Indulge me?

Ok.  I'm super nervous to be doing this!  However, I've been reading Tina Fey's book (slowly but surely) and there is a part in which she talks about writing sketch comedy.  Here is the quote that I just can't shake:

"You have to let people see what you wrote.  It will never be perfect, but perfect is overrated.  Perfect is boring on live TV".

Obviously, I have been letting people read my writing.  Duh, I'm blogging and then I post my link to Facebook, then I stalk people to make sure they are reading it.  So what am I so super nervous about? The WRITING CONTEST. 

I'm going to enter 3 this summer.  Every year I read the winner in a magazine, and think, I could write just as well at this person.  I have a funny, or important, or emotional story to tell.  Without fail, every year I talk myself out of it.  I get nervous, like I'm totally sweating right now, and I talk myself out of it.  I tell myself that I'm just some novice.  That what I write is of vague importance.  That I'm super boring, but have this super ego who thinks she's funny and witty and clever.  And before I know what hit me, I talk myself out of entering.

Not this time.  I started this blog for a reason.  I love to write.  I have always loved to write.  So I took a chance and started this blog.  I have some great readers and HOPE to build this blog into a book or a job. 

So I'm taking a chance and I want YOU all to help.  I'm going to post below, in a different font, my first entry.  It's a blogging contest for Real Simple Magazine, and it can only be 300 words.  From my previous rambling you know this was a HUGE challenge for me.  The theme is someone you are surprised to be friends with.  The person I picked may surprise you because we have known each other for years.  Our friendship however, our closeness, is something just a few years old.  I'm surprised because it developed with such ease and it feels like it's always been this way. 

So please read, and then please CRITIQUE.  Seriously, the good, bad and the ugly!  I'm counting on you guys.  Otherwise I'm just going to talk myself out of it, and continue to hide behind my blog. 

Happy Blogging,
Megan

A life without Krysten?

I wouldn't make it.

In a life filled with challenges and doubt.  She surprised me with a friendship that erased all doubt.

She is younger, but wiser.

She has faith that I cannot measure.

She made me a believer;  in myself, in motherhood, and in friendship.

She was my game changer!  She set my idea of motherhood ablaze.

We bonded over poopy diapers, creative ways to occupy a toddler (Oreos), and Grey's Anatomy.

When I had lost myself.  Drowning in self doubt.  Isolated by motherhood.  She said, You don't have to love it.  You just have to love your baby.

We recently had the most amazing conversation via text message.  At 11 o'clock at night.  While I was co-sleeping with my one year old.  I have no idea what she was doing, other than cracking me up. 

I can call her, anytime, just to complain.  She listens, lets me get it all out, and then reminds me I could have quints.

She has never judged me or the kind of mother I am.  Which is so refreshing.  In a world driven by expert parenting books and "know it all" Mommas, it's nice to have someone on my side.

 What 3 things would I bring on a deserted isle?  Big Sunglasses, Starbucks, Krysten.  She would bring her Nook, Vodka, and peanut M&Ms.  It would be that simple. 

She didn't bat an eye when I needed her most.  Has anyone dropped everything for you?  It took one call, one question, one prayer.  All answered.

She has influenced the most important part of my life by being the type of friend most claim to be.

Krysten is exactly who she says she is, no more, no less.   

And that is no surprise.

Absolute Funk!

I must confess that I am in an Absolute Funk!  For the last 2 weeks I have been Angry Mommy, Pissed off Mommy, Screaming Mommy, Tired Mommy, Irritated Mommy, and my favorite Bitchy Mommy.  I can't for the life of me shake it.  I have no idea why.  It's like everything in my life, driving on the street, shopping in Target, or working at my favorite Starbucks has me acting like a crazy person.

Ok here are a few of the things that have been driving me bonkers.  First and foremost my 4 year old.  I love her to pieces, but she is her mothers daughter.  Since she turned for she has been in a constant state of PMS and so have I.  A few days ago she woke up whining and crying.  I heard her going on and on, in the whining voice that I absolutely LOVE (sarcasm!), about how awful it was that she couldn't eat cake pops for breakfast.  Mind you, she hadn't even asked or even gotten out of bed.  It was seriously not even 8 am.  I knew it was going to be a long day!

Another thing that has been driving me up the wall is the fact that my one year old has taken to screaming when she is not being held, carried, coddled, or cuddled.  So pretty much all the time.  She has this scream that sounds like Thomas the Tank engine's whistle on steroids.  It's like nails on a chalk board.  I try and try to placate with anything else in the world, but nothing works.  She just wants me to hold her.  So last week she had Oreos before breakfast so I could cook breakfast.  Orange Soda in the afternoon so I could do the dishes that were now covering the sideboard.  Chocolate chips at 5:30 so I could try in vain to make one dinner everyone would eat.

So you're probably thinking I have the worst behaved kids in the universe.  Yeah, I'm thinking that too.  I'm so frustrated because I feel like I've lost control.  Lost my grip on parenting reality.  When did they turn into little monsters and when did I turn into bitch of the year.  I swear all I have done for 2 weeks is yell at them.  WHY ARE WE CRYING?  WHAT ARE YOU SCREAMING ABOUT?  WHY CAN'T YOU JUST EAT THESE OREOS?  Not my Momma Best if you know what I mean.

How do I break this cycle?  I have no idea.  I've been trying to TIME OUT, instead of yelling.  It's not working that great.  When Caitlin turns on the whining, I ask her 3 times to stop, if it continues TIME OUT.  It's a start, right?  With Mac, I have not idea.  She doesn't even understand how to use a straw properly, will she really understand the mechanics of time out?

And now for the biggest reason for my FUNK... I'm so sad and guilt ridden that I'm taking this funk out on my kiddos.  It's not their fault that I'm tired and frustrated.  Ok, so they cause some of it, but I know there are lots of moms who don't lash out at the kids.  I'm in a funk, because I want a little sliver of time for myself.  I want to blog more.  I have 3 writing contests I want to enter, but my concentration is zilch!  I have a new Kindle sitting there, laughing at me, because I haven't had the chance to enjoy it.  I have piles and piles of laundry, that is clean, but certainly not put away.  I have a sink of endless dishes.  So no, I won't have anytime to myself.  Oh and I almost forgot, I have kids that need some serious behavior boot camp.  Looks like my husband should have just saved that Kindle for Christmas, since that's the earliest it's going to get used.

Say a prayer for me my dear readers.  That I can whip these girls into shape.  That I can whip myself into shape.  I'm in a FUNK.  It sucks.  I don't want to be Mean Mommy.  It's the worst title ever.  I don't even want to be Worlds Greatest Mommy.  I just want to be Mommy.  Who loves the kids no matter how much they whine, who can sometimes sneak away to pee (alone), and who can take the heat!  I want to be myself again...

Here's to a fresh start, freshly dyed roots, and hopefully a Trenta Black tea in my future.  Also I'm leaving the Kindle in the bathroom, sure I'm in the shower (ha ha).  Oh, and I got to blog.  All in 30 minutes or less.  It's not a cure for this funk, but it's a start!

Happy Blogging,
Megan

Desperate Housewife

I'm a desperate housewife.  Every day.  Consistently.  It doesn't take much for one to become a desperate housewife.  It's not as glamorous as it sounds.  There are no hot lawn boys.  There are no nannies.  There are no personal chefs.  No my friends, in my neighborhood, the desperate housewives are desperate for other things...

I'm desperate for a minute.  To myself, by myself, in other words alone.  Did I mention I want to spend time alone?  Lately I can't even pee alone.  You know what I'm talking about.  There is not one spare minute where I'm not up to my eyeballs in parenting.  So please pretty please a moment to pee, breathe, eat, sigh, read one stinking line of a book???

I'm desperate for my own housewife.  Yes, that's right.  I want a housewife at my own disposal.  I hate housework.  I loathe housework.  My house is constantly messy.  Dr. Seuss in the pantry.  My Little Ponies on the kitchen table.  As we speak a doll stroller next to me at the computer.  Oh yes, I did pick all of these items today and put them in their places.  Somehow, the oozed back into the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and computer desk.  Where is my housewife when I need her?

I'm desperate for one good night's sleep.  Just one.  Where I can sleep uninterrupted and wake up on my own.  I don't want to hear crying babies.  I don't want my 4 year old alarm clock to start whining on why we can't have chocolate cake for breakfast.  I want to go to sleep, IN MY BED, and wake up when I want. 

I'm desperate for a day off.  A mental health day if you will.  A day to read a book, watch a TrueBlood marathon, sleep the day away, and blog.  A day to save my sanity.  I want a day to do what I want to do, and not have to think about anyone else but me.  Sound selfish?  Sure it does.  So what, I'm desperate.

I'm desperate for a makeover.  I want to be on "What not To Wear".  I want someone to tell me what a SAHM of two, looks like.  It's sure doesn't look like the ladies of Wisteria Lane.  I'm desperate for a chance to look glamorous again.  To look human again.  Last time I checked pop-tarts, spit-up, and cheerios were not all the rage at Fashion Week.

I'm desperate for more time to spend on this blog.  More hours in the day.  A laptop perhaps.  I'm desperate to be good at being a mom.  Desperate to be semi-good at being a house wife.  Desperate to be my best self.

I'm a desperate housewife, who is grateful to have things to be desperate about.  Thankful that one day I'll get those moments alone.  Those days to myself.  The good night's sleep.  One day I'll miss being a desperate housewife.  Especially since I'll have to find new things to complain about...

Happy Blogging,

Megan

The 5th of July

What a let down right.  After all of the celebrating we do for America, we have to get up the next day and carry on.  Status quo.  Yuck!

Our 4th was packed with family and fun.  Swimming and ice cream and baseball.  Totally AMERICAN!  It was great.  The girls and I were in the pool ALL day.  Of course it was the only place to be beside the 108 degree plus patio. 

Keep swimming!  I couldn't get her out of her.  NOT EVEN WITH SODA BRIBES!!

Hello.  Happy 4th!  I'm a flag waving Crutchfield. 

Look at my two happy little girls.  I begged and bribed them to get out of the water!  Soda? No. Ice cream? No.  Fireworks? OK!

Ice cream + sparklers = Happy Caitlin

I have no idea what these flashy things are, but they sure are cool!

No longer scared of the "fire"

Great day.  Great party.  Great 4th.  What is really special about the 4th is that it truly is a measurement of growth.  This is my 11th year celebrating the 4th with John.  Yes, ELEVENTH!!  I feel old and blessed at the same time.  We've come a long way baby.  From skinny dipping and booze bashes to sparklers and ice cream cones and princess pools.  Even though my hard partying days are mostly behind me, I have new reasons to celebrate every year.  This year Caitlin LOVED the fireworks, instead of crying like the past years.  This year Mackenzie stayed in the pool all day!  Added plus - she didn't burn.  If you've seen her then you know she is the whitest quarter Mexican around. 

So today is a rehab day.  A day to let my kids wear pajamas until 4pm.  A day to lay around an watch the Fresh Beats, Yo Gabba Gabba, and Good Luck Charlie all day.  To nurse my holiday hangover all day.  And since I don't drink anymore, it's saying something that I feel like I fell into a vat of vodka.

Hope you had a great 4th.  Hope you were as American as you could be.  Did you have a great 5th as well, or are you a little let down like me?  Oh well, next year!

Ready for the show!

Happy Blogging,
Megan

Ladybugs and Buzz Lightyear

The only things my daughter requested for her 4th birthday.  I love her unorthodox choices.  On the one hand we wanted a ladybug dress and ladybug tiara.  Then she reminded me that she still wanted "Bud-Lightyear".  It cracks me up!  The real story is in the blood, sweat, and tears that were shed in making this 4th birthday possible...

I'm human, and yes, I make mistakes.  Lots of them to be exact.  What sounds like an excellent idea at the time, turns into a Mommy Melt-down of EPIC proportions.  I love to set myself up for small failures.  They are never deal breakers or earth shatter-ers.  They do however break my heart and make me feel dumb. 

This year I decided that a small family get away would be perfect for us in the week leading up to Caitlin's 4th birthday.  In addition I felt that I should MAKE Caitlin a ladybug dress. 

The dress!! It got a little stretched out.

The matching flip-flops

Yes, you read that correctly MAKE A DRESS... You can clearly see where this is going.  I also planned on making a ladybug cake and ladybug cupcakes, which I researched extensively online.  The party for 4 year olds and under would be fantastic, with a LIVE ladybug hunt, coloring, and pizza, the birthday girl's request.  This was the plan as we headed to Monterey, CA.

Upon our return and Father's Day, I was set for my week of PARTY PLANNING.  This included shopping for party supplies; starting and finishing a dress; playroom reorganization; and cake decorating.  You will notice that the list does not include SHOPPING FOR A BIRTHDAY GIFT.  More on that story later...

The ladybug dress was created in pieces.  With the help of my grandma, we did the bulk of the work on Monday, and finished the dress on Friday.  My mom came over and thank the Lord, both kids were good while we reorganized Caitlin's room and the playroom.  It looked great.  I cheated on Friday and had my Mom's cleaning lady come over.  We were looking good.  I was getting a little stressed on Friday afternoon, as my thread kept breaking as I was trying to finish said dress.  A little more stressed as the clock said 5:00pm, and I still hadn't started the cakes or SHOPPED FOR A GIFT.  Are you beginning to see the theme???

By 6:00 on Friday evening I was ready to rock and roll.  I got my second wind and was ready to tackle Toys R Us and the 3 boxes of cake mix with frosting.  I wasn't even worried about the decorating.  I was focused on SHOPPING.  Buzz Lightyear here I come!!!

Let me say that if you ever see a woman, without make-up, covered in her kids dinner and quite possibly lunch and breakfast, standing in an aisle in Toys R Us CRYING, please have sympathy on her.  She is most likely having a nervous breakdown, because the store is OUT of the only thing her child requested for her birthday .  A child who has had to spend the last year in 2nd place to her new little sister.  A child who sweetly asks you to play my little ponies in the middle of a diaper blow out.  Who begs for coloring time while you make 3 different breakfasts.  Who always, without fail, is hungry while her sister is napping. 

So, here I was, crying my eyes out in Toys R Us.  I was so optimistic!  I was going to be home by 6:30 at the latest, the cupcakes and the cake would be cooling just as it was time to put both kiddos in the bath... BEST LAID PLANS... Seriously I think God was laughing at this one.  It was like an episode of the Middle!!

Here I was in the middle of TrUs.  Crying, because while I did the ladybug thing.  There was the possibility that I was not going to deliver Buzz.  I called my sister in law, who responded "Who is Buzz Lightyear?".  I said a prayer and ran, YES, ran to my car and hit it to Target.

If I was ever in doubt about the power of Target, I am now a believer!  There on the bottom shelf was not one, but 3 BUZZs.  Now for the tears of Joy.

I got home at almost 7.  So the kids didn't get a bath until 8, while one cake was still baking.  No big deal.  This is Mamma Megs at her finest!  I never did get the live ladybugs to hunt.  We had a play-doh bugs instead.  The kids played and ate and laughed.  The adults had fun watching and catching up.  I was complimented on both the cake and the dress.  My friend Eric commented that I was turning into Holly Hobby.  How crafty!



The Cake!



The cupcakes... It's no cake boss!  But they ate them.



Was it perfect?  No.  Did Caitlin love it?  YES.  At the end of the day this is the real reason why I pushed so hard.  Why I tried in vain to go the extra mile.  It's also because anyone who  is near me can smell the GUILT wafting off of me like cheap perfume. 

Year 3 was not the best for Caitlin and I.  It was full of fights and tears, time outs and make ups, anger and frustration.  Poor Caitlin!  All she has heard in the last year is "In a minute" and "After I (feed, change, burp, rock, deal with) your sister.  Talk about the back burner.  I swear I wasn't home 5 minutes and I was already swimming in guilt.  I cried numerous times when I had to tell her No.  No I can't play ponies, watch Max and Ruby, draw and color, just about anything.  She could feel the difference and see the difference.  There were days that I longed to be able to give her the one on one attention she deserved.  As always, she is a survivor.  For this birthday, I felt such survival deserved the very best of everything. 

I'm still suffering a birthday celebration hangover, and not the kind of my college years.  I'm still finding play-doh bits.  I still have some dishes to be washed.  Whatever.  Did I decorate the best ladybug cake?  Not even close.  Is the home made ladybug dress going to last one wash?  Probably not.  Like I said before, Caitlin is happy.  I did my Momma thing and she did her birthday girl thing. 

As for Mr. "Bud-Lightyear".  He was a hit!  Not only did she thank me twice at the party.  She thanked me again with my good night kiss.  In her little whisper as she hugged my neck, in that crazy insane way that only your child can master, "Thank you for my Bud-Lightyear Mommy.  It's all I ever wanted". 

Worth every ounce of blood, sweat and tears!

Happy Blogging,

Megan