For the Love of Sweatpants

I always swore I would never become that mom. The one running errands with her screaming kids, her hair tied back and disheveled, donning sweatpants and a wrinkled and/or stained over-sized t-shirt. She looked more the unlikely survivor of a hurricane then a simple housewife and mother. It really couldn't be that hard to ditch the sweatpants and put herself together, could it?

And then I had my own kids.

I enthusiastically kept up appearances for the first few months, (after the first few weeks) of my first daughter. I took the time, when I could find it, to shower, do my hair, carefully apply my makeup. I forced myself into whatever decent clothes I had that still fit and proudly set out. I was a mother and I was put together. You couldn't dare tell me I had let myself go, I would never let it get to that.

But of course, it did. It always does.

The months passed and days dragged. My once nice, if bigger then I would have liked, clothes were now covered in spit up, baby food, and a couple mysterious splotches I would try never to determine. Nicely done hair had been pulled just a few too many times. Was there even a point to putting on makeup?

Nothing to Wear?

The days upon days of baby life had finally taken their toll on me. I gave up, and was fairly happy about it. Of course when I ever did make it out sans kids it was a hellish experience of trying to find something half decent to wear that wasn't also covered in horrifying globs. Remembering how to do my makeup and hair again seemed like a long lost art; but considering I was home most of the time anyway, it was a small price to pay for the daily comfort and relaxed morning routine I was now accustomed to.

The poor, poor man. I do feel bad about the woman he had to come home to. But, I suppose he loves me through thick and thin, (put together or a complete mess.) It couldn't have been too bad, he's still here.

This living for pure comfort lasted a while, well into the pregnancy and birth of my second daughter. Eventually the lack of any self confidence started to get to me, more then the effort of putting myself together ever did.

So I made a change. I had to.

Working out helped immensely, I had to work on losing the lingering baby fat, for me. How are you ever supposed to feel good about yourself when everything in your closet is either too small circa pre-pregnancy, or baggy, unflattering maternity clothes. I knew the sweatpants had to go, but I had to get there first.

Well with time I've gotten there and I feel so much better. Though, I'm still having a tough time ditching the sweatpants altogether - for an entirely different reason. It's not because I feel fat and lazy and can't be bothered to get ready in the morning anymore. Now it's because the kids are insane and their idea of fun is hanging off of any loose piece of clothing they can get their hands on. I do it to save my good clothes.

These kids are messy and just a little insane, (as I'm sure they all are.)When I finally do risk it and put on something nice when I'm home, I practically have a nonstop panic attack anticipating their tiny grubby fingers and faces touching me. Gross. I have few decent clothes, something about pregnancy changing my body, I don't know. I don't want the few decent things I have to be chocolate and peanut butter and tear stained.

I have gotten passed wearing sweatpants everywhere and managed to care about my appearance again. I think that's a healthy place to be. But I doubt I'll ever give them up entirely. I guess I'll always have a love affair with sweatpants. There's nothing quite as comfortable as lounging with those over-sized, insanely comfortable worn down pants.

Loving the Little Things

Happy Monday everyone.

I've looked back on the last month and realized I haven't been keeping up on my promises at all. Not even a little bit, it seems. I think all my best intentions to post so often were outweighed by the chaos of getting into a new routine of working. It happens to the best of us, right?
So I'm not going to make any big promises today, because frankly, I'm tired of breaking them. I got a little blog burnout and don't want that to happen again.

Today I figured I'd share some of the things that make me happy, because I'm in a great mood (for a Monday) and decided to spread the joy.

It's Always the Little Things

• The quiet moments when the girls are playing so nicely together, usually up until they notice I'm watching. 
• A really great cup of coffee in the morning.
• Adorable baby kisses from C
• "Tiny big hugs" from A. (Her words)
• Still managing to gain some readers here in all the time I've basically disappeared. (love you all)
• Walking in to a clean home after work.
• A running in to the room in the morning telling me, "Surprise! I found you mommy!" Maybe she thinks I'm hiding the whole time I'm at work. 
• Being told by 'non-wasted' customers I'm serving how beautiful they think I am. I wouldn't call myself vain, but after having two kids it definitely doesn't hurt to hear once in a while. By someone other then the man. 
• Receiving a package in the mail, expected or not. Everything is so digital, I hardly ever receive any real mail anymore. 
• Impromptu date nights: sitting outside on a warm evening with the man splitting a bottle of wine. 

These are just a few of the things I live for. Feel free to share yours, I'd love to hear them. I can add listening to the little things that make you happy to my list.

xo.

My Cooking Shame

Remember when I said I could cook? Apparently I wasn't entirely honest.
I can cook, sometimes. I can make some really great meals with proper practice.

Mashed potatoes are never a part of those meals.

I have ruined mashed potatoes more then anyone ever should. I'm not even sure how I do it, somehow they just turn out wrong, every single time. It's sort of my housewife shame. Lucky for me, the man isn't a fan of mashed potatoes. But honestly, how am I ever going to host a proper holiday family dinner if I can't make a decent serving of mashed potatoes? It's embarrassing, really.

My lack of ability hasn't stopped me from trying though.  Every once in a while I try to convince myself it's in my head and that I can't really be that bad. I'm always wrong. They turn out lumpy, thick, dry, salty, and my personal favourite, soupy. I was going to post pictures of a few of my failures, but I didn't want to put you through that.

I thought getting a food processor would help. When I opened the box at Christmas my first thought was "now I can make creamy, tasty mashed potatoes!" Again, I was wrong.

I think it's my curse.

People get cursed like that, right? Maybe because I am such an amazing cook when it comes to practically everything else I had to be gimped at something. You know, to keep it fair. (I'm not at all sarcastic or anything)

I'd love to hear about your cooking shame. Is there one meal or side or dessert or whatever that you fail at, every single time you try to make it? Please share so that I can ease my housewife guilt a little bit.

Write a post and share the link to my facebook page. Or simply leave a comment and tell us a little about your failures at cooking. You know we all love to hear about other peoples mistakes. Besides, I shared mine with you. ;)

Almost Potty Trained and a Road Trip

I've boasted a bit about potty training success. It's much more exciting then anyone without kids may realize; it's liberating.

Though sometimes, just when you think you've completely succeeded, that little trickle of golden shame will jerk you rapidly back to reality. It's not over yet.

A couple months ago we took a drive up to Toronto to visit family for the day. The girls were super excited to spend the day with the other kids playing and eating and drinking as much as they wanted. At least A was, I'm sure C would have been too, if she knew what was going on.

I'm not going to bore you with our family's eventful Easter lunch, other then to say everyone had such a great time. Then it was time to leave. We packed up our goodies and leftovers and children, encouraged and pleaded for final trips to the potty (with no success), and headed on our two hour long drive.

I'm sure you can see where this is going.

We made it most of the way home without a hitch. A little whining and screaming from the animals in the back, but nothing we aren't familiar with. Then it happened. A told us she had to potty, NOW, and there was no stopping her. Before we could utter an objection she was soaked and a new familiar smell filled the car. There goes our potty training bragging rights.

The way I saw it, we had three options: let her sit in it til we got home, pull over, strip her down and sneak her half naked self up to the apartment when we made it, or find the nearest department store and buy some new clothes, towels etc and clean her up completely.
Well unfortunately for her and our senses it was way past their bedtime and we couldn't really figure out where any stores were. Besides, home was less than a half an hour away.

I hate to admit it but we went with the first option. Why yes, we can be horrible parents, from time to time. What would you have done? It was actually kind of freezing out, so pulling over and stripping her down seemed less humane then letting her sit in it for the half an hour.

We may have been speeding a bit, either to get her cleaned up or escape the smell, you decide.
Thankfully, we didn't get pulled over. But I figured if we had, we would have had the our child just pissed herself excuse. I think we could have gotten away with it. Maybe.

Thankfully, we didn't have to worry about that. What we did have to worry about was our horrible parenting, (because we obviously felt horrible) and how the hell to get the pee smell out of her car seat. Have you ever had to take one of those things apart? What a nightmare.

But after a quick bath and load of laundry we all survived the experience. We also learned to be a little more prepared. I don't care how great your child is at using the potty, don't forget to bring a change of clothes, some towels and maybe even a small potty for any length of drive. You never know when all that juice is going to want to make a quick escape.