MNMS & Caffiene

I'm not a super mom.

Before I had kids, I always imagined I would be a mom with patience, I would be mild tempered, try to talk to and reason with my children instead of raising my voice. Obviously I was clueless. I try my best to start every day like Mary Poppins. You know, sweet, fun, full of lyrical delight.....but then.....my kids happen.

Last week I spent THREE days cleaning my house, for a home appraisal. I even cleaned that one part of my house that all the junk gravitates towards.....well, ok....i threw all the junk in my van.....but my house was SPOTLESS.

It was 30 minutes before the home appraiser was to show....and my kids thought now would be a great time to dump out all the toys they never want to play with, EVER. Then just like confetti, my youngest throws the entire bag of goldfish crackers onto the floor, and starts to stomp on them.  So it's 9:30 am and just like that my Mary Poppins attitude has turned into Miss. Trunchbull from the movie Matilda. I lay the guilt on about how they can undo in 1 minute what took me 3 days to complete.  I'm sending little butts to time out like I was born to do it. With one arm I'm whipping toys into the corner, while my other arm is pushing the vacuum to suck up brutally crushed goldfish crackers....all while yelling in my momma bear voice that this man is going to be here in 30 minutes...

In the midst of this chaos, there is a knock on the door. I open it to see the home appraiser, standing there, smiling ear to ear. He states that he knows he is early so if I need more time to get prepared he can wait on the porch. I take him up on the offer. Secretly I'm cursing my thin walls and praying he won't call CPS on my butt for overhearing the wreckage of what I like to call my "Parenting Style."

I brush the goldfish dust off my daughter and prop them all up on the couch. I bribe them each with their own bowl of mnms to sit there, not move, and breathe only when needed, the whole time this guy is in our house.

At the end of the appraisal, the man points at my kids still sitting on the couch with their almost empty mnm bowls and tells me, "I miss those days, they were the most fun at that age. Mine are all grown, and boy does it go fast."

I can't help but stare at their chocolate faces, and the pile of toys in the corner, and think that man is right. Because in a little bit, even after getting my wrath, they will come running to me to kiss a boo boo. They will want me to hear their stories, and show me their paintings. They will wrap their little arms around me and tell me they love me. Right now, they are mine, and I am theirs. It won't be long and I'll be sharing them with this world. Soon when I punish them, they will hide in their rooms, or avoid me for days. Fixing their problems won't be as easy as a kiss, and they will rather share their stories with their friends than with their mom. I'm sure at some point, they will stop telling me they love me at every chance. Soon these long days, are going to just be chapters in a book of years that went by too fast.

But, tomorrow at 9:31am, I guarantee the appearance, attitude, and energy of Miss.Trunchbull will be present. Because yes, I will miss these days, but I also miss my sanity when I'm vacuuming up my floor for the 32nd time in one morning.

You're not going to find a super mom here. I'm a novice. Most days, I'm just trying to do what it takes to survive until bed time. Sometimes, that means a bowl full of chocolate for the kids at breakfast and too much caffeine for me. Occasionally it's a reminder from a complete stranger to cherish my kids, while they're still mine.