It's just grass

 

I go through phases where I feel like the grass is greener on the other side.

Jealously gets the best of me.

Maybe it's my lazy heart pining for a better work ethic.

Maybe it's my jealous heart wanting what others have.

Lately it's been about wanting success.

 

Success can be measured in many ways.  Job life, home life, married life.  What looks like a perfect life may be a mirage.  A mere image of the truth.  This doesn't ever make me feel any better.

 

With the exception of a seasonal job, I stay home.  It's been close to six years since the hubbs and I made that decision.  Dare I say that if I would have returned to the workforce we may have more to show for it.  Newer cars.  A home with fancier furnishings.  Coach bags.  Disney vacations.  Instead we have a carpet that once was cream.  We have couches with years of wear and tear.  I have faded sweatshirts that are older than Mackenzie, and one good pair of heels for any wedding, funeral, or job interview that may spring up.  The Hubbs has suits with dusty shoulders in the closet.  One good pair of work shoes.  Fancy button up shirts that rarely see the light of day. 

 

And for the most part I'm ok with all of this.

 

But sometimes I wonder how to meaure our success.

 

Sometimes I feel like we have nothing to show of success.

 

I don't get a yearly bonus.  If I have 2 happy children at the end of the year, there is no exotic vacation awarded for my productivity and development of said kids.  I don't get a plaque for years served as mother in charge.  I don't get a "good job" from my bosses.

 

Or do I?

 

How can you measure the success of a mother?  By " I love you"s?  By a kindergartner who passes a spelling test or knows 110 sight words?  Is my success only measured my loads of laundry done?  How does one measure their success when it's wrapped up in the success of others?  Is my success measured by the success of my environment?  The dirty dishes, the laundry piles, and the kiddo still in pajamas must be the pressing signs of falling down on this job.  Or maybe not.

 

What if I just measured success on the daily challenges?

Could I still be successful if I ignored the toy disaster in the living room?

Could I be successful with a grilled cheese and sliced apple dinner?

Could I still be a success if I just smiled and ignored the chores?

Can you measure success based on what you have cultivated?

What if the greatest success in this family is the carpet that once was cream, or the couch thats lumpy and tattered?

Could the greatest successes be the worn clothes, the bags under our eyes, and the children who still insist on climbing into our beds and nestling in our hearts?

Is it possible to measure success in things, people, emotions that can't really be measured?

 

Perhaps success can't be measured in material things.  Maybe success can be meaured in emotions, memories, people.  Success in love.  Success in family.  Success in living.

 

I've said from the beginning, some days I'm just not cut out for this job.  Some days I'm selfish and want what I want and want it all for myself.  Other days I'm quite happy doing the job of mommy.  Today I think I'm selfish.  I don't want to go to the grocery store.  I don't want to plan dinner.  I don't want to put away my laundry, and Mac's laundry, and Caitlin's laundry.  Today I want to write.  I want to read.  I want to be.

 

But this is my job.  I'm Mom.  I may not get a monetary bonus.  I may not be a jet setter, or a trend setter.  I am, however, the humble employee of two little people who actually love me.  I may not have millions to show for it, but I do have two.  Two little girls who think I'm perfect, even though I'm not.  How's that for job security?   

 

Comparison in life is a given.  We are always looking over the fence to see what the neighbors have.  My hubbs is constantly comparing the yards of our neighbors, worried about our grass.  How our grass and yard must look to the neighbors.  Just like I compare what my successes or lack there of looks to the outside world. 

 

Sometimes greener grass isn't better grass.

 

It's just grass.

 

see what's happening here

The Mother/Father Double Standard

  It's real. Just like the boy/girl or man/woman double standard. Anthropologists and sociologist will say that it's a learned behavior but I beg to differ. The Mother/Father double standard is real. As evidenced by my Sunday.   Yesterday, I did the unthinkable, the unimaginable. I set out to take a nap, on the couch while children and Hubbs were in the living room.  The hubbs was watching TV, and the kiddos were playing with whatever they had dragged out of their rooms.  For whatever reason (caffeine hangover), I was exhausted.  Like struggling to keep my eyes open, so I looked at the hubbs and said, "Wake me in 20 minutes".    Yeah right.   Caitlin played beauty shop on my exposed head.  Mackenzie asked me for a drink twice.  And my final wake up call in the span of let's say 15 minutes was Mac sneezing in my face.  Now, I know what you are thinking.  Dad must have been out.  Doing yard work, or washing the car.  No.  Oh, no.  Dad was sitting less than a foot away in the recliner, switching between the Daytona 500 and How it's Made.  I guess to the children that I bore, that made him invisible.   So I got up.  Complained, uttered some choice words (that were prefaced with "mother") under my breath, and started the laundry.  I will admit openly that I was mad.  Furious even.  First because why do I even tease myself with the idea of a nap, but secondly, because my husband has been know to nap in the recliner, uninterrupted while the kids ensue chaos on the world otherwise known as our living room.   They don't bother him in that recliner. Not one bit. Not to ask for a drink, Not to ask for a snack. Not to sneeze in his face.   Which got me thinking.   What the hell is it with this Mother/Father Double Standard?   The Hubbs can up and leave the house, anytime of day or night, and the kiddos wave bye like it's just  par for the course.  Yesterday, I declared that I was going to the grocery store.  Insert 10 minutes of whining and squawking,  followed by wardrobe changes for two princesses who hadn't had their hair combed since Saturday afternoon.  Seriously, the husband can kiss them goodbye and they are as cool as cucumbers.  I put on shoes and they think I'm moving to Alaska.  Don't even ask me what happens when they notice I'm wearing mascara, or have done my eyebrows.    I've also noticed that it doesn't matter what I'm doing, the kids identify me as the only "capable" parent in this house.  I'm not saying that the hubbs isn't capable, he is, sometimes better than I, but the kids act like he's not even here.  I can't tell you how many times I've been unloading groceries, been in the middle of making dinner (with chicken hands!), or say changing a dirty diaper, and someone is asking me for a drink, a snack, or to put her Barbies shoes back on.  All while the hubbs is just feet away, sitting there like one of the 275 toys in the living room.  Uh, hello, I'm not the only parent here, correct?   The Mother/Father double standard in a cramp in my ass.  I try to remind my girls that Daddy is a very capable parent, made obvious by his outside the home job.  I've also reminded them that they can ask Daddy for drinks, snacks, and American Doll wardrobe changes.  But with all the reminding in the world, I'm still yelling from the sink that's full of dishes, "can you please get these kids XYZ before this knife I'm washing goes rogue on your behind".   So, yes.  I'm on a slight tirade because I didn't get a nap yesterday, but seriously, this has to be happening in other homes.  Please tell me I'm not the only one.  I love these kiddos, I really do, but sometimes, I want to share the work load.  I know for a fact that I'm not the only adult in this house that can get a sippy of juice, microwave chicken nuggets, or dress a Barbie.  I know.  I've seen it.   So why do my kids rarely call on their dad to do things?    The Hubbs says they do it because they love me.   Then why won't they let me take a nap?  

It's ok, I'm out of ideas {It's ok/InstaFriday}

  I just wrote 864 words on motherhood and not having it all. It's not ready yet. So since I'm out of ideas, I'm going to link up with some bloggy peeps. It's Ok Thursday, a day late, and InstaFriday. I know totally obligatory post, but I got to write something. Even if it's crap. (that's my new motivation by the way, writing something, anything, even if it's crap)   Here it goes.   It's ok that I quarantined my husband to our bedroom for a full 27 hours because he had a stomach bug.  It's ok that I Lysol'd everything in that room and adjoining bathroom within an inch of it's shelf life.  It's ok that I Lysol'd and Clorox wiped the all our living areas, including light switches, keyboards, and door knobs.  It's ok that I considered throwing away 3 books that had been near the scene of the crime.  It's ok that I have prayed every hour since Tuesday morning at 2:54 that me and the girls do not get sick.  It's ok right?  

 

It's ok that this is what my house looks like daily, although this was Wednesday.  The Wednesday in which I was freaked out and worried that we would all be getting the sickies.  This is my view from the couch taking a much needed snooze, that was very short lived, while these too destroyed the living room.  It's also ok that this picture is in black and white as not to reveal the disgusting carpet stains on our grey carpet. 

It's ok that said carpet used to be cream.

 

 

It's ok that this kid wore red sweats and this Wall-E shirt to the grocery store on Sunday while her sister wore a fancy dress.  It's ok that she kind of looked like a boy.  It's ok that she looked a little trashy.  And it's ok that I thought she did justice to this ensemble when she picked out a bologna and American cheese lunchable.  It's ok that I'm the mom that lets her eat that kind of crap.

 

 

It's ok that this is how we spend most of our mornings.  It's ok that I was trying to clean every surface in my house while wearing rabbit ears (not shown).  It's ok that I gave her 2 Oreos after snapping this picture because I was so happy she let me!

 

 

It's ok to take pictures of a sleeping toddler who you are waking up and asking if they are sleeping.  It's ok that we kept laughing and giggling that Mac would continue to flutter her eyes and say "No mommy".  It's ok that instead of letting her sleep, I immediately grabbed my camera to put it on Instagram.

 

  It's ok that this is me trying to take a picture without this girl knowing.  Suddenly she doesn't want to have her picture taken at a moments notice.  It's ok I guess, but mommy really likes blogging about Mac's little moments.  It's ok that I'm supposed to be watching her sister dance, but all I can do is watch this one climb on this desk.    It's ok that the majority of these pictures are of Mac.  It's ok because I've got plenty of time before Caitlin is going to read this blog and realize the majority of these pictures are of Mackenzie.  It's ok because I will remind Caitlin that she has a baby book and Mackenzie does not.  It's ok that Mac's baby book isn't done, right?  It's ok that it's almost been three years?   It's ok that this post may or may not make me look like a horrible mother. It's ok because I don't believe in such things anymore.   Horrible mothers are like Big Foot. Someone always thinks they see one, but it's more their imagination.       Linking up here   And here

Just for the Halibut {Resolutions In Motion}

  I can't believe that this is the last Resolutions in Motions post. Has it really been six weeks and six recipes? I guess it has, because the announcement of the link up at Megan's place was a total surprise.   This week it's fish, just for the Halibut... Get it? Jokes aside, I have always had a fear of cooking fish. It just seemed too hard. I was always worried that I'd burn it and my house would forever smell of burnt fish. I worried that I wouldn't cook it right and we'd all get food poisoning! So since this was a resolutions challenge, I thought the best way to cap six weeks of new recipes was to go out on a limb and face my biggest cooking fears. FISH.  

The before picture.  I promise there is fish under there!

    Thanks to Parents Magazine, and a recipe from their June 2010 issue, I felt that I was in a good place to try and make some fish.  In parchment pockets. Yes, parchment paper pockets. Like a big girl.   Ingredients: 4- 2.5 oz white fish fillets (like halibut) 16 stalks of asparagus trimmed 8 small carrots halved lengthwise 1/2 tsp garlic herb seasoning (like Mrs. Dash) 4 thin orange slices, halved 1 roll of parchment (approx 4 12" pieces)   Preheat your oven to 400.  Cut your parchment into 4, 12" pieces and fold those in half.  Assemble your packets with 4 stalks of asparagus, 4 carrots and 1 portion of fillet on the crease side of the parchment.  Sprinkle with olive oil and seasoning.  Top with the orange slices.  Fold the paper over your fish and veggies and then fold up the sides to make a pocket.  Make sure it's wrapped up nicely, and then arrange on a baking sheet.  Bake for approx 12 minutes.  Check for doneness, fish should flake and veggies should be tender, but not soft.  When done, remove from parchment, plate, and enjoy.  Makes 4 servings.   *** I searched for the original recipe on Parents.com and Google. This link was the closest I could come up with. The link will also take you to an ebook available for purchase. I'm not blogging for Parents Magazine or the ebook. Just to be clear.  

The after.  Yum!

    Cooking notes:  I used about 5 oz of halibut, which I halved into 2 parchment packets.  I added the veggies and orange slices accordingly.  Since the fish was a larger portion I cooked it for 20 minutes total.  It was delicious, but I think that was because I had actually made fish.  Fish that was edible!   Joining Resolutions in Motion was a great start to the new year.  I'm hoping to keep it up, and still try one new recipe a week for the new year.  I pin tons of recipes.  I'm always cutting them out of magazines, but then I get too overwhelmed to try a single one.  Then when I do, I plan to cook a new recipe every day, and when one doesn't come out right, I quit.  I get discouraged, and resign myself to the fact that I'll never be a domestic goddess.  It doesn't have to be that way.  Start small, with just a single goal, and you may end your journey with baked fish in parchement, just for the halibut.     Linking up here!

 

Wore {Vday Room Mom; pinned it, wore it}

  I've said many times before, I will never be a fashion blogger. As much as I love fashion and clothes, fashion bloggers need to be serious. More serious than iPhone pictures taken in your bathroom. I'm learning, and I'm going out on a limb from time to time. I'm also, thanks to Pinterest, happily shopping my closet. Here's some Valentine's Day, Pinned it Wore it!   I knew I was going to need something comfortable and casual for Valentine's Day. I had a date with 27 of the cutest kindergartners around. This is my chapter in room mom style. What to wear when you have to be on your feet, serving rice krispie treats, or from time to time sitting cris cross apple sauce.   Here is the Pin.  

source

 

I thought the stripes with the red was fantastic.  Plus anytime I can wear my favorite jeans is a win for me.  While I liked the shoes, I know better.  I can't wear anything but a wedge since the girls have been born.  Believe me I tried, and those shoes up there are ankle breakers in my book.  Yet, I wasn't phased.  I knew I could take the basic elements of this idea and apply it to stuff I had in my closet.   Now for the Wore It.  

   Striped tank with a black layering tank under it.  Red boyfriend cardigan from Target.  Seriously they are the most comfortable sweaters of all time!  Jeans by American Eagle (the Artist), and of course red Toms.  It was comfortable and festive.  I was able to help pass out Valentines.  I was able to sit at mini desks and help with heart graphs.  I was even able to go home, relax, put my feet up, and then go out to Panera with the family.  All in a days work, right mamas?   If you'd like to see the other hundred things I pin and never wear you can here!