So. Proud.

She works hard for the money.

And yes, I did take time to video this even though my baby was crying in the car.  I'm pretty much an awesome mom.

Perfect Home = Perfect Family?

Is a perfect home the measure of a perfect parent?  Does a messy house = failing to provide for my family?  How did I even come to have this standard of success?

As much as I am constantly trying to battle the perception that my size determines much of my worth, I have come to realize that I am constantly coming up short when I continue to measure my worth as a mom by the perfection of my house.  Basically, I am lazy.  I own it.  I would rather relax than mop, rather cuddle with my wee ones than dust and rather nap than fold laundry.  Yes, clutter and unfolded laundry makes me crazy, but when Elliott says from the couch, "Mommy, will you sit wif me?," I briefly weighed my options and found those three year-old cuddles won the prize.

I'm not sure how I fell into the trap of measuring my ability to be a grown-up by the status of my laundry baskets, but I'm trying to cut myself a break.  Instead of choosing to ignore chores and then feel overwhelming guilt and disappointment in myself over what is left undone, I am vowing to try and accept this as a phase of particular busyness, when the moments of a full-time working mom devoting full attention to child-raising are precious and certainly more important than a perfectly decorated house, cleaning up Laundry Table (yes, this matches Laundry Chair at my sister's house) and even folding the never ending river of laundry.

I have to tackle this challenge.  To be real with myself and with my family.  It seems certain to me that it is incongruent to match my ability to parent with my ability to keep a tidy home.  Love & tidiness aren't hopelessly intertwined, right?  I can only bet that my children would rather live in a cluttered home with parents who choose to let chores go undone in order to give them more time, rather than parents always focused on the appearance of a home.  Maybe this is finding ways to endorse my laziness & procrastination. But maybe, just maybe, this is allowing myself to own the challenges of having a full-time job outside the home along with the hardest, most important job around--Mom, while still trying to carve time for relaxation, a marriage and a wee bit of social life.

Now where's that remote?. . . .

A Day at the Park & Slight* Parenting Fail

Spring has sprung here in Texas.  It is a time of possibilities, time to get outside before it's too blooming hot to leave the a/c.  We took advantage by visiting Trinity Park--perhaps the best park in Fort Worth.  I have to admit it was spur of the moment and my poor Brook-Brook went without a nap until around 3:30.  We're quite lucky that she's an easy-going baby.  If we had tried this with Ell at the same age, I'm afraid there would be hell to pay.  We fed ducks, played on the massive playground, ate a picnic lunch and rode the train.

Precious girl, chillin' under a tree.

Time with Daddy.

Turns out that with three year olds, you have to plan ahead for potty breaks. Parenting fail.  In a moment of extremely slight panic, we decided Ell could pick a tree.  Unfortunately this was in sync with the train going by his chosen tree.  We encouraged pee-stalling by trying to get him to wave to the train.  Somehow those instructions got jumbled in his head.  Before we knew it, Ell had dropped his drawers and was waving at train passengers enthusiastically.  I looked on in stupefied humor. . . by the time I could eek out that Chris needed to help, we heard the squeals of laughter from the train cars and Chris was doubled over in laughter. Good news.  Elliott never caught on that this might be a bit inappropriate.