I am like any gal, who, before actually giving birth to tiny humans, thought that I would have the most insanely awesome spawn ever born that would come out looking like Tom Brady and/or Giselle, smell like baby heaven, and sleep through the night at 7 days old. Fast forward 6 years and I, NO JOKE, get into bed every single night, chuckle to myself, and say, "we made it out alive again." Like, WE MADE IT OUT OF THIS PARTICULAR DAY alive. I am on a day to day survival mode. My kids aren't that cute, one always has a crazy snotty nose, someone usually has issues with their bowel movements on any given day, I can't run a brush through my hair because it is constantly sticky. What happened to us, to me? Lawd, it's life but it's beautiful. I love every dirty french fry they eat and every time I've been barfed on because I do know what it is like to experience loss and pine for a child, and I prayed my heart out and wore my knees out praying for all my beautiful blessings.
BUT THIS IS SO HARD. And the hardest part might just be admitting defeat, and admitting things aren't necessarily as perfect as I thought they may be - point being - I am not the perfect mom I thought I would be. One line I love that I think I heard or read is that I may not be a perfect mom but I am the perfect mom for them. WOAH. yea. And I am. They are mine, and they will annoy the cruddddd out of you, but they won't annoy me as much. Because I made them, that's why. Anyway, I have gotten off track, which is easy to do when your husband is away on a business trip looking at potential NFL draft picks and you are eating your favorite jalapeno chips and the diet coke you probably shouldn't have because it for sure is terrible for you, but gosh it burns so good in my throat.
This blog initially started because I went to Build a Bear for the first time with my children and I blacked out and spent their entire college tuition in 20 minutes. But before I get to that, I am going to tell you a couple other things that I said I would never do with my kids and I have SO DONE.
Give my children fast food
This one makes me giggle hard. I, as a young mom, was horrified that anyone would ever feed their beautiful child that satan food filled with preservatives and (gasp, throw up, gag) trans fat. HOW COULD YOU. Are you that lazy that you don't have sliced peppers, tiny cheese and ultra filtered smart water on you at all times? You are poisoning your child and I am just so sad. Fast forward a few years, and my son's favorite cheeseburger is from Carl's Jr. As in, he has had a LOT of cheeseburgers and knows what he likes and what he doesn't. Just recently we were at Target (duh), and he was overtired begging me in a very loud voice "Can I PLEAAAAASE just go to dinner at Carl's! I felt like every mom was hitting me with those judgy eyes as my son presumably begged to go to dinner at some creepy guy's house named Carl while I looked at every single Cat and Jack item in Target and pondered how much I could spend and still make rent. When we lived in Ohio I discovered a McDonald's that had an enclosed play area that sounded an alarm if they exited, so it actually became our second home. We got to know every worker by name, and we called it the "far away Mcdonald's" because it was actually about 14 minutes away. Yet I drove to it, often, because of said enclosed area, where I could close my eyes for 7 seconds and eat an ice cream cone in peace. Towards the end of our time in Ohio our children were given free chocolate milk at this place because they knew us so well, and I am pretty sure the employees thought we were very sad people. Also, side note, my third child had a french fry at 5 months old. Mike drop.
Allow my children to watch electronics I read many articles that talked about the importance of never placing your children in front of a tv. I read them, and I dully noted them. And then I had a child, and I gained 49 pounds, and it stuck to my body like putting on pleather pants with lotion on, and I gently placed my kid in front of sesame street in a bouncer so I could run on the treadmill next to him cursing said 38 pounds that remained after I pushed him out. I also claimed when my first was a baby that I would never be that family allowing Ipads at restaurants, but fast forward a few years and if I want anything that doesn't resemble actual tiny people not revolting in a Mexican restaurant, it's best I let these little people do a few snap chats while I shove some queso in my mouth and guzzle a
Be off any sort of schedule This one actually makes me belly laugh as I type it. Our first child had pretty severe reflux and spent the better part of his first year vomiting 10-30 times a day anywhere and everywhere, so I did attempt to get him on some sort of schedule when he wasn't projectile puking or screaming. After that it has honestly been pure anarchy. I mean honestly every day it's a miracle we are all alive let alone napping on a schedule. My third baby nurses on demand which means I have breastfed her pushing around a Target cart while my 6 year old begs for dinner at Carl's and my 4 year old jumps through every square slowly and cries if I want to go too fast for him to not hit every square. And that life doesn't exactly fit in with 2 naps a day for an infant. Luckily, this third baby is one cool chick, and pretty much just rolls with the punches. She has probably taken more naps in her carseat in Target than her actual crib but I am afraid to actually count and compare. I'm sure I'll pay for it when she is 13.
Curse my children under my breath Alright this one is sort of a joke but not really sorry. Anyone that actually knows me knows that I feel my husband, my children, and my family are the biggest blessings from God and I am beyond thankful for them every day. But you also know I may say "gosh darn you little bugger" (or something to that affect) under my breathe a few thousand hundred times a day because this momming things is REALLY REALLY HARD. It is really hard to say that you little people are going to come before me every second of every day, and I am going to handle it all, and be happy. Sometimes, when they're blasting fart after fart on the fart noise machine the Easter Bunny gave them at 6:17 a.m., things become real, and mama may mutter something to herself. Ain't no shame in my game. Then I have the coffee, and I go on a short run, and I am a lot nicer. Sorta.
So speaking of cursing under my breath, the real reason this blog post started is Build a Bear. Y'all why did I not invent this. My kids LOVE stuffed animals. They really love getting stuffed animals at thrift stores like Goodwill which of course THRILLS me to bring those sacks of fleas into my house. Their second favorite place would probably be to get them in claw machines, particularly ones that cost 2 dollars and are actually impossible to win at. But forget those places because we are actually never doing anything else, ever, besides Build a Bear. It's over. Build a Bear has won their hearts and that is actually all we will probably ever talk about until we all die.
I had never been to this place, the Disneyworld of stuffed animals if you will. I had my amazing sisters visiting for the week, who were insanely wonderful to my kids and spoiled them with attention for 7 days straight. We wanted to wander the mall, and we kept dangling the store as a carrot to them so that we could wander through Paper Source and Anthropologie. I figured we would walk in, I would force them to pick the smallest one available, and we would be out of there in 20 minutes and $30 bucks later. I have never been more wrong in my life.
I had purposely avoided this store because I had heard it was pricey, and my kids already have one zillion (flea infested) stuffed animals. Now we are sucked in to the magic that is Build a Bear and I have to commend them. The second we walked in, I was busy making sure that the baby wasn't pulling down an enormous display of shoes for the stuffed animals while a Build a Bear employee whisked away my eager boys to build the most expensive stuffed animal that was ever made.
Smartly, Build a Bear charges you for every single item you pick as you build the dang animal. So if you ask a small child, do you want your stuffed animal to have a voice? Do you want it to have a heart? Do you want it to have a smell? What do you think they're going to say? HELL YES LADY! This is the best day of my life, I'm usually picking one-eyed snakes at Goodwill that are mysteriously missing half their stuffing and smell like an Indian restaurant. Don't know how I got here but let's turn this mother out!
So while I was pulling a used hairbrush that my baby somehow found in the corner of the store out of her mouth, my children were adding hearts, smells, and sounds to their stuffed animals, and I was slowly losing our retirement fund. I am not even sure what exactly happened between the time we walked in the store and I checked out because I actually think there was a period I blacked out, but my children somehow weaseled ridiculous plastic outfits, sunglasses for their bears, birth certificates for them, boxes that are their homes and they have been sleeping in, and also the said noises, smells and some heartbeat or something. My oldest really wanted a motorcycle for his Pokemon stuffed thing but I had come to by that point and declined the motorcycle for the Build a Bear. I realized at that point that these Build a Bears were living better than me. I was in dirty workout clothes with unwashed hair, and I don't think I brushed my teeth, and these build a bears were in shiny new clothes and accessories, staring me down and mocking all my no fast food dreams of years past.
The point of this post is first of all, Build a Bear you are to kids what Target is to moms and Vegas is to my husband. Once you're in, you actually black out and have no idea what is happening until check out. Money is no object and all things are needed. I commend you ability to create this store and truly wish I would have created the stuffing machine and all the ideas, because you're a beautiful genius. I love to be reminded that making plans with kids is laughable. My kids have since been OBSESSED with their bears, putting them to bed at night and talking about them and all their hopes and dreams for life. One big topic has been how they are their dad, their sister Emma Claire is their shared mom, and I am the grandma. We will talk about how creepy that is another day.
Bottom line is, as a parent, I am going to say that I am never gonna do so much stuff. But when push comes to shove, I will be so thrilled if I get out of this crazy ride alive and my kids aren't horrible people. I just want them to love Jesus, love each other, and do something slightly productive in the world, more importantly, that they love. And also, be kind. I think it would be nice if they liked endorphins and travel and found a wonderful person to share their life with but I am just working on not saying Poop in every sentence right now. I will always remember that day in Build a Bear when their eyes were lit with a fire that all kids should have when they actually are choosing a stuffed animal that isn't from Goodwill, but built with every single thing chosen by their loves at that moment. I love you my little monsters and all the crazy energy you bring to our (very messy) house.
If you are a new mom, and you are telling yourself that you are never going to feed your child a french fry, go off their nap schedule, or venture into Build a Bear, I suggest you take a good long look at reality and check yourself, because parenthood is french fries and Bears on roller skates baby. If you are a fellow mom who has been Build a Bear taken, I hope that sparkly purple cat your child made entertains them until they move out of the house to become a doctor and take care of you forever.
xoxo Big Mama
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