my life, guys.

Is it just a husband thing to be ready for any event in a matter of minutes, and then look upon his wife and kids with a “tsk” in his eye…?

I get it. We’re slow. Like, exceptionally slow. We’re the most low maintenance people that you’ll ever meet, we’re just really REALLY slow.

SORRY NOT SORRY. (I’m actually mostly sorry.)

I typically blame it on having to get myself ready, which – let’s be real – doesn’t look like much, but then also having to round the kids up and convince them to wear weather appropriate clothing, preferably forward-facing, and without ketchup on it. It’s no easy task, but I’m often left to it alone while my husband sits in the car.

Yea, his sitting in the car used to drive me crazy, but it’s a flaw I’ve grown to accept because that’s what you do in marriage, I guess. I accept his waiting in the car like we don’t even exist, and he tries really hard to just accept the sound of my coughing fits when I have a cold/flu.

Be still my heart.


Years have taught him, though, that rather than just heading to the car, it’s good social (and marital) etiquette to at least let us know that he’s ready and walking out the door. He actually does one better now and will say things like “guys, get your coats on” or “let’s get in the car.” I mean, he does those things whether your hands are covered in Fudgsicle from Grandma’s house or not, but baby steps. So on Thanksgiving, my son comes running up to me – hands covered in Fudgsicle from Grandma’s house – and whines “Mom, I need to wash my hands but Dad’s making us get ready to leave by saying the weird thing he always says…!”

“Oh my gosh. What’s the weird thing he always says…?”

Embarrassed, and through gritted teeth, my son says “that we need to bounce like Beyoncé…”

And then there’s that.


kids and presidents

This morning, I awoke to the news that Trump had won the presidency and, alongside that, COUNTLESS articles on Facebook titled something along the lines of “What will we tell our children?”

This evening, I read that children as young as 3 were crying because of the election results and that schools had extra staff on hand to help children “deal.”

I dunno about you guys, but I told my children and they were mostly all “oh ok. Hey mom, look at these zombies we’re drawing…”

(No pun intended by them as far as people and elections and zombies go, they’re just super obsessed with Plants vs. Zombies.)

See, they’re not concerned with the future of our country because they’re 8 and 9 years old. And that’s way ok. Now that doesn’t mean that they’re so in their own world that they don’t know about issues, or have ideas and opinions – even ones different than mine – it means that they have their whole adult life to be concerned with these things and they know that. They also know that they will likely experience things that either strengthen those opinions or flip them completely on end.

And that’s ok. As adults, I trust that they will handle it.

But as of right now, no matter the outcome, it was easy to tell them because they’re busy BEING CHILDREN. They’re busy playing Minecraft and soccer and toilet tag with the neighbor kids (don’t ask). It was also easy to tell them because we talk about the human condition on a regular basis – and how a vote one way or house control the other way will never do away with that. But more than that, it was easy to tell them because politicians do not direct their moral compass and celebrities are not their role models.

So, “what will we tell our children?”

I’ll probably just keep telling mine the same thing I always have – they seem to be ok.

ride and/or die.

Marriage, man. It’s like, you think you know who you’re vowing yourself to, but then 9+ years into this thing, you buy a house in the city, and your husband suddenly wants you to become the family that rides around on bikes together.

Now, my kids are a timid bunch of people. They cruise around on their scooters with all the neighbor kids, and are lovingly referred to as the “cute scooter gang” by passersby, but they have yet to even attempt to ride a bike without training wheels. They’re the kind of kids that fall off, get pissed, and then stomp around, yammering on about bikes being stupid.

They are mine, after all.

And as a teenager, I once rode my bike straight into a parked car, but marriage is supposed to be full of compromise I guess, and so I told my husband that I would ride stupid bikes with him, so long as my bike was the kind of bike people would look at and be like “WTF?”

“Mom, I can actually really see you on that bike,” my youngest daughter says of the bright orange and pink Huffy I fell in love with at the store yesterday – the one with the basket on the front and the obnoxious-patterned cup holder on the handlebars. “You could put your coffee in the cup holder and a bag of donuts in the basket…yea, I can really see it.”

It’s like, finally – someone who gets me.

I’ll let you all know if it becomes a reality – for now, I still have no wheels. Of course, I think I may have scared him off the idea completely after suggesting a tandem bicycle built for two.

Something about “crashing” and “yea right, you’d get us both killed,” I dunno.