Anatomy of a birthday party

2 cute boys, age 7 and 9
1 mom, 1 dad (divorced)
1 stepdad, stepsister, and stepaunts and uncles
1 ex-almost-stepmom, with ex-almost-stepbrothers and stepsisters
A smattering of other friends and children, to include an uncle (who was in prison), an ex-boyfriend's mom, and a college roommate

Who knew life would ever be so complex?

Getting back into it

I know! I'm so hit and miss with this blogging thing! So I'm trying something new- an app for my iPhone so I can blog on the go, wherever I am. I'm also going to not stress so much about writing long posts. I intimidate myself with my own expectations- and then I usually just stop. So this post is trying this new app out (complete with quick picture upload!) and re-engaging with my blog. Because so much really is happening around the Rock House! Especially now that a new addition is on the way!


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Baby Shoes

I was cleaning out the boys' closets the other day, and I found their stash of baby shoes.

Scuffed toes, shredded shoe laces, and worn out heels-- shoes that helped them learn to walk, to run, to play.

I carefully held each pair and was flooded with memories of chubby little baby boy legs and feet, and I looked over at the boys and wondered where all of that has gone. 

So quickly, they have grown into elementary school boys, with knobby knees and ankles and thin faces.

So quickly, they don't quite need me like they used to.  I think that is the hardest change to acknowledge.

I am glad to see them growing, thriving, but I feel the loss of their babyhood, their chubby cheeks, the garbled chatter, the need for just mommy.  I miss the wonder I had at them, a new parent, taking in all of their first moments.

For a while, I felt as if that wonder was gone, but each day I am learning to see the joy and wonder that comes with this age.

The way they learn to have friends or to not have friends, to get their feelings hurt, to see who really cares.

The way they learn to be a part of fads (silly bands, anyone?).  

The way they experiment with their sense of humor and sarcasm.

The way they pretend to be grown up but still fret over missing blankets until we find them.

The way they curl up at night with their stuffed animals.

The way they blow me kisses and hugs when I tell them goodbye.

The way they cuddle with me on the couch when we watch movies.

I sighed and packed their baby shoes away again, wistful for the past, thinking that sometimes these ages seem like a new way of life for us all.  

Then I saw Pacey's blanket that he left beside me when he was looking at his baby shoes.  

Maybe it really isn't that different after all.

Me, in a six-word nutshell

Hanging out with Making Things Up and Six Word Fridays!

Me? Well, I'm just a girl.
A mom, a wife, a friend.
Usually waiting for life to begin.
Trying to remember to jump in.
Embrace, register the moment and live.

Not Mom of the Year

Head over to the Mommyologist or Life Without Pink to see the details of this one.  What a great contest to participate in and topic to blog about!

I'm not mom of the year.
I cannot hide my humanness from my boys.

My anger, my sadness, my frustration--
I wear openly and publicly.
Raw and unbridled.
They see me.
Cry when I've had enough.
Yell when my short limit is reached.

Sometimes what they have to say invades my very core, my naturally quiet being.
I tune out stories of Pokemon and Bakugan.
I hold my tongue so I don't bitingly say,
"I really don't care, buddy!"

I'm selfish.
I crave quiet.
Often their daddy weekends are a beacon of light.
That seemingly endless stretch of 48 hours.
Belonging to me alone.
And then.
Then I feel guilty for that honest, raw desire.
The intrinsic need we all have for center and selves.

I used to be on a quest to be the perfect mother, mom of the year.
But I forgot that mothers are human too.
Not June Cleaver with a pressed dress, shiny pearls, a plastic smile.
The TV ideal that has skewed women's vision of motherhood.
The ideal that has made us afraid to own our emotions, so instead we guiltily sequester them away.
We rage. We cry. We feel.
To the very depths of ourselves.
And these little parts of us watch.
And learn from our humanness.

I don't always have fresh baked cookies waiting.
I've been known to skip baths here and there.
And sometimes I let DS time stretch a little too long.
But I love my boys.
In the most human, not mom of the year way I can.

How Kids Survive

I'm playing along with Supah Mommy today with my first Post It Note Tuesday post!



Somehow I'm curious how kids survive to adulthood when parents are involved.  And I'm simply talking about the regular, loving, but sometimes very stupid parents, like myself. One day, I will look back at all of this, get past the guilt, and laugh.  Wait.  I think I already am...  Anyways, to the boy-os--  Hopefully, when you talk about all this in therapy one day, you will remember these heartfelt apologies.

And yet Pacey seems to have a great appetite and enjoys food.  Except for carrots... I'm sure there's no connection.

Even so, Gage's hearing appears to be fine.  Except when he doesn't want to listen.

Oops. I think this is probably the most embarrassing mommy moment; however, Gage's manual dexterity doesn't seem to have suffered.  His DS playing is still up to par.

I blame the nurse who distracted me.  And it only required one band-aid, which made our location synchronistically fortunate.

Totally a result of too little sleep.  And most of the time they had a hat on anyways.  So it's all good.

I'm not sure why the empathy didn't kick in automatically here.  It was pretty funny.  And he has a hard head. (All of the carrier head-banging training apparently has paid off ...)

One Pizza, One Pool, One Family

Alternatively titled-- Blending Families for Dummies (a book that we obviously need)

Last week I blogged about the challenges that a blended family faces, and one of the issues that we have come up against in the past is spending time together-- just the five of us-- doing something that we can all enjoy.  It may sound simple, but really it isn't.  Trust me.  Here's why:

1.  The age gap between the boy-os and the princess is just enough so that they have absolutely nothing in common.  Unavoidable.
2. I share joint custody of the boy-os with their father, so they are only here roughly half the time.  Unavoidable.
3. The princess is a teenager.  That equals friends, a boyfriend, a job, a team sport, and lots of time in her bedroom.  Understandable.
4. The princess periodically spends time at her mom's house.  Unavoidable.
5. Asian husband and I can sometimes be selfish with our time together-- being newly married and all.  Understandable, but can probably be adjusted.

That is not a recipe for easy family bonding.  It is actually the exact recipe for an authentic surface family feel.  Co-existing in the same house, but not really bonding.  We didn't have the luxury of years of baby and toddlerhood to spend together and work through the kinks of children.  We have been thrown into the mix late in the game, after each of us had spent several years of raising our kids on our own.  We are a bit rusty with the kind of work it takes to be a family.  And by that I mean a for-real family, not just a group of people living under one roof.  I used to scoff at the number of failed second marriages that involved two sets of children, but now that I've experienced the reality, I understand it and have a great respect for it.  Because it is a crap ton of work.  A. Crap. Ton. Of. Work. And if you don't pay attention, it can easily crumble right before your eyes.

Luckily, Asian husband and I instituted a plan of action to assist us in this family bonding endeavor.  I call it the "do whatever we can whenever we can" plan or DWWCWWC.  It can be pronounced dee-wick-wick, which makes it fun to say and by extension fun to execute.  This very intricate and detailed plan requires a lot of forethought and careful organizing to ensure everything goes well.  You should take notes.

1. Target a time when all of the family has intentions of being home and available.
2. Make plans.

You can see why it has taken us about two years to come up with it. I will pause while you recover from great awe.

This weekend we had ice cream at the local fro-yo place (which I guess would be frozen yogurt, not ice cream, but whatever), had lunch at the local pizzeria, and crashed a relative's community pool with an extra pool pass.  (I was convinced that the Russian lifeguards were on to the fact that we were impostors, but for the sake of the dee-wick-wick plan, I was willing to take the chance.)

They all smiled. At the same time. And no one had a finger up his nose (Gage) or in his mouth (Pacey).