The Coup D'Maman

I've been overthrown by a pair of 13 year old identical twin girls.  On Sundays we go to church and we are NEVER on time, (it's not my fault, it's my 6 kids' fault, and my husband who takes longer to get ready than I do!)  Well, apparently my twins had had enough.  This morning I was abruptly awakened at 7:45 (church starts at 9:00, so I generally try to sleep until 8:25).   My twin girls literally jumped on my bed and yelled, "It's time to get up, we're NOT going to be late to church this morning!"  I moaned like a California sea lion and told them (ok lied), I would get up...in a minute.

Ten minutes later they came in again, this time fully annoyed, and said, "I can't believe you're not up yet, we are leaving in twenty minutes."  I replied, "I can't believe you're so bossy!"  Apparently, today was the day they decided to take a page out of my own parenting book and feed it to me for breakfast without sugar on it or anything!  I crawled out of bed, cleared the sleep out of my eyes and proceeded to get ready. My daughter came up a third time, and said, "Oh good, you're up." Am I really that irresponsible that I need to be checked on three times to make sure I'm out of bed?   I mean, I have kept six kids alive up to this point, which should count for something! 

The New Dictators 

I walked downstairs and my daughter handed me a bowl of eggs with toast, "Here's your breakfast, Mom."  I looked around and all my kids were ready, including my Ethiopian kids whose hair has to be tamed by Siegfried & Roy (we have them flown in weekly for the taming).  Everyone was eating scrambled eggs with cheese (or breakfast burritos) and buttered and honeyed toast. I was sure this was the rapture and I had already been caught up in Heaven.  Awakened from my dream by the extreme quiet (like any mom with toddlers knows about), I realized that my kids were all in the car already.  

Screen shot of when we got to church

On the way to church, my daughters encouragingly added that we were going to get to church today at the time we normally leave the house.  Whatever (insert eye roll aimed at my girls)!  When we did arrive at church at 8:49, I drove around the parking lot pretending to look for a parking spot.  Really I was just trying not to be TOO early, I have a reputation to uphold and I was the only person under 65 in the parking lot!  My girls triumphantly skipped toward the front of the church while singing a song about being on time. So apparently, our roles have already reversed!  I thought I would be in adult diapers before they became responsible enough to care for me!  In truth it was the most peaceful drive and Sunday morning ever.  I wasn't yelling at my kids to get ready (they were yelling at me), I didn't have to make breakfast, wipe faces, tie shoes, fix hair, crate the dog, yell some more, get in the car, get back out of the car to get things and kids I forgot, and drive like a mad woman to church (we've already established my award winning driving skills).  I could get used to this new dictatorship! Also... it may be time to confess, that I may be the problem and reason we’re late (or...I could still blame my husband, he was sick in bed and stayed home today). 

Illegal Parking

Our legal system makes my head spin!  Today concludes the saga which began two months ago with the recognition of my amazing third world driving skills (aka, I got two tickets in one week).  I received certificates of recognition so I have proof that my driving skills are award winning.  Two tickets equals 5 points on my driving record, highest points win right!  Except, driving is scored like golf, darn it!  

The first of such recognition occurred as I was late to an orthodontist appointment.  Everyone knows that if you miss those, it's THREE YEARS before they will reschedule you!  I wasn't going to be late, so I was speeding.  I was going 20 over (I know shocking!).  He pulled me over and my main thought was "Crap, now I'm really going to be late."  Now that I'm forty, apparently my crow's feet don't allow me to get out of tickets like in past, but he was gracious and charged me for only going 1-10 over. 

The second was a week or so later, when I "yielded" at a stop sign (there was no one coming!).  I considered having my kids scream at the top of their lungs and as the cop approached I would stick my wrists out the window and say, "Just take me in officer, I could use a good night's sleep, peace and quiet, and a meal served to me which I didn't have to cook. It'll be like a retreat."  However, I settled for the lecture about my bad driving skills and accepted my "certificate".  Darn crow's feet! 

5 points on my driving record would triple my insurance, so I decided to go see the judge.  I went in the day after Christmas, there were only 4 crazy people who showed up to court that day (we've already established my sanity in previous posts).  I was called up first.  I was asked how I wanted to plea.  "Guilty" I said semi-quietly amid snickers in the courtroom. Who comes to traffic court and says their guilty? At least plea "No Contest."   The judge looked at me and smiled, "Are you sure?"  I told him I was sure, but I wanted to go to traffic school so I wouldn't have the points on my record. He said I had to plea "Not Guilty" and talk to the District Attorney for that.  I asked him what I was supposed to say to the district attorney when I'm NOT "Not Guilty".  He laughed and said, "You're 'Not Guilty,' I say so, come back on the 7th of January and talk to the District Attorney."  I walked out while the rest of the people in court gave me smiles and thumbs up, like I had just won the lottery. A friend later said, "Did you feel like Jesus was declaring you not guilty"  Ha! 

Illegal Parking

So, this morning was the day.  I had to meet with the District Attorney.  He calls my name and says, "So, you pleaded 'Not Guilty' to these two tickets” I told him I had pleaded both guilty, and, to clarify, NOT "not guilty", but the judge pleaded on my behalf "Not Guilty" and said I needed to talk to the District Attorney about the points.  He laughed and I proceded to tell him my story about yielding instead of stopping, speeding to the ortho appt. and that my 3 years as a missionary in Guatemala didn't help my ability to obey traffic rules.  In the end, he told me I was the first the first person in all his years as a District Attorney who admitted guilt and he changed my failure to stop at a stop sign to illegal parking which is zero points on my record.  

I learned a $240 lesson, obey traffic rules... and be honest!  I also learned that when I pick up my kids' friends and my kids tell them "You'll like my mom's driving, she drives fast."  I shouldn't be proud of that (although I kind-of was because I liked being the 'cool' fast driving mom).  Maybe I should change professions and go into race car driving. 

The First Step is Admitting...

I have a problem!  Growing up with a recovering alcoholic mom and stepdad, I heard numerous times, "The first step is admitting you have a problem."  Well, here it is... I secretly (well not so secretly now) hope my kids forget to do their chore so I can impose another task on them which is something I've been procrastinating doing or plain don't want to do.  There, it's out there.  Figuring out a chore system that mobilizes 6 children of differing ages has made me fantasize about relocating to Bali and living in a beach hut on a daily basis! 

This year I thought I came up with a system that works to my benefit.  If I have to remind my kids to do their chore more than one time, I impose another (less fun) chore.  I've explained to them in my best "I'm doing this for your good" tone, that if I have to remind them to do their chore more than once, that is more work for me; therefore, I will be forced to impose additional chores.  I mean, seriously, I have to answer to God for how well I've trained these precious ones (ok, that may not be my only motive). 

Baking Pantry

The other day, two of my kids had forgotten to do their chore after I had reminded them the customary one time.  I secretly gave myself a high five in my head for being so clever and straightened my face to make sure I looked disappointed at their poor memory.  My 14 year old sighed, "Oh man, what do I have to do?"  I told him he had a choice (choice always softens the blow and makes me seem extra generous), he could organize my baking pantry (yes, I have a baking pantry, I'm still in recovery not recovered) or the hallway closet.  He chose the baking pantry which left the hallway closet to my 13 year old daughter.  I literally had to walk away to keep them from seeing me do a little happy dance.  

Hall Closet

My game closet needs reorganizing, the regular pantry could use some help, the baseboards needs vacuuming, the stairs need vacuuming and there are two other closets that I've been pretending don't exist!  Here's to hoping I have forgetful kids today :)

Head Staples

Yep, it's what it sounds like.  I had just gotten out of the shower when my youngest son Kaiyin assaulted me about having cookies (I may be being slightly melodramatic).  Allowing my ADHD kid to have sugar plus red and yellow die was not going to fit in with my schedule that day, and if you know anyone with ADHD you KNOW what I'm talking about.  He skipped off downstairs which should have been my clue that he wasn't interested in what my schedule looked like that day.  I heard a crash followed by blood curdling scream followed by stomping upstairs in my direction.  

My friend asked me later that day if I was panicked. Ummmm... I wouldn't say panicked, more like ticked off!  In typical recovering supermom fashion, I preceded to lecture my 5 year old about sneaking cookies off the top shelf when I specifically told him he couldn't have cookies.  Also, I let him know I didn't have time to go to the doctor to get his bleeding head fixed up!  Now before you call social services on me, I did get ice and put enough pressure on it to stop the bleeding.  Now came the decision I dreaded.  Who would do the best job stitching up my son, urgent care (which everyone knows is the antithesis of urgent) or my pediatrician.   Well to be honest, the "best job" wasn't my only factor in my decision making process.  Realistically, I was trying to figure out who would be the quickest.

I called my pediatrician first, she said it would take an hour and half to get him in... bummer!  I had to take my chances with urgent care.  I called to see how busy it was and she said there were only four people waiting.  Perfect!  I rushed over to urgent care after guilting my 14 year old into coming with me to hold ice on Kaiyin's head by reminding him he had been through this 3 times (don't judge) and by the time I got there, there were only 2 people ahead of me.  SCORE!  The lady at the front desk made a comment about me being pretty calm.  She didn't know I'd done this stitches thing 5 times in heads alone and two in fingers!  

I knew I had made the right decision, until an hour and half went by and I was kicking myself for not going to the pediatrician.  Thinking I could still rectify it, I called them to see if I could still get in and ditch the NOT urgent care.  While on hold, they of course called my name.  Dilemma... I hung up with my pediatrician and asked the nurse how much longer it was going to be.  She said he'd be right in, which everyone knows is code for 30 more minutes!  By the time the doctor entered the room, my 14 year old had whined 14 times about how he knew he shouldn't have come, he was starving to death and the first words out my 5 year old’s mouth to the doctor were, "my mom's mad"  I'm surprised he didn't call social services on me at that point!  

By the time we got finished, Kaiyin had 7 shiny staples in his head and was calling himself the "Real Iron Man" because he didn't cry one tear and had metal in his head.  He finished the experience by high fiving the doctor while jumping off the medical table. Clearly he is a superhero.  When it was all said and done, he looked at me with his sweet smile and big brown eyes and asked, "Are you still mad at me m om?"  As my heart melted I answered, "Yes! Don't steal anymore cookies."  

Confessions of a Recovering Supermom Intro

Yesterday as I was on my way to the mattress store to ask the manager if  my six kids and I could jump on mattresses (part of the inspiring idea I had at 1:00 pm to allow my kids to choose 14 "free" ideas in honor of the last day of 2014), I casually mentioned I may be crazy.  My oldest son who is 14, coincidentally, chimed in, "of course you're crazy, everyone thinks you're crazy".  I guess that's why when I asked to buy the key lime pie truffle at See's candy earlier that day with my six kids in tow, the man behind the counter handed it to me slowly and just said, "Here, you deserve this!"

Anyhoo, I won't go into a long introduction into who I am, but when I had 3 kids, I definitely knew I was a supermom and everyone else knew it too.  My house was perfectly clean, my kids were well behaved and smart, dinner had 5 parts: a protein, a fruit, a vegetable, a starch, and a decoration (don't judge), and I always had my hair in a ponytail which everyone knows is the hairstyle of moms in action.  I had an outline in my head of the book on parenting I was going to write.  I knew it would be so inspiring that people all over the world would send me letters of success on how my amazing parenting advice had catapulted their children to become the presidents of companies and countries!

Then, my husband and I moved out of country to become missionaries in Guatemala.  The first week I pulled my sheets off on Thursday to wash them, because that's what supermoms do on Thursdays.  I vigorously began washing all 4 sets of sheet in the pila (a hand washing device because we didn't have a washing machine) and then ringing them out to dry.  Four days later, the sheets were still not dry and the locals informed me that it was too humid for the sheets to dry in the shade!  That was my first realization that being a supermom may not be my destiny.  After three years on the mission field I remember asking a close friend, "How long is too long to go between sheet washing?"  My reformation had begun.

I live back in the States now and have three adopted kids in addition to twin girls and another son.  I have one son from Guatemala and a son and daughter from Ethiopia.  My youngest son has ADHD, which pretty much has cured me from my supermom ways!  I had three kids turn thirteen this year so I have four teenagers out of my six kids, which could be why people say I'm crazy.   I'm a recovering supermom who is on a journey of discovering I can't and don't have to be a perfect mom.  I am learning to love and laugh (ok scream and cry too) at myself in all circumstances even when I'm asked if I run a daycare three times in one day.  This blog is the beginning of my confessions as a recovering supermom.