I was reflecting recently on how much can happen before the “work” part of one’s day even begins. In my case, by the time I sit down at my 9am meeting, I may have…
- – Finished the Wordle. Or not finished the Wordle, but spent 15 minutes convincing myself the answer must be some esoteric proper noun that sneaked into the master list.
- – Completed my morning workout. Sometimes that also involves…
…turning on the subtitles and reading the instructor’s cues because I’m being scolded by one of my sons that it’s “too noisy!” as he watches cartoons nearby, and I don’t want to unclip to close the door between rooms.
…watching helplessly as I spot one of the boys amble over to a cache of sweets left on the basement bar and go ham on sugar first thing in the morning, because I don’t want to unclip to intercept him.
…getting a Nest cam notification that there’s motion in one of the rooms, and the thumbnail shows my 3-year-old’s bare bottom flash past the screen… a sign he has taken his morning potty break and may unwittingly but urgently be in need of assistance wiping… in which case I do indeed frantically unclip and noisily slide on my bike shoes all the way through the house to give him a hand. - – Showered and thrown my hair into a wet top knot as per my “signature look” for almost 5 years now.
- – Fed 4 children breakfast (they can already easily consume a loaf of cinnamon toast and carton of strawberries between them… please send help for the teenage years).
- – Changed the 2 youngest out of night diapers and into clothes.
- – Stripped a bed and started a load of laundry after someone wet the bed. OR stripped a child and started a disinfecting effort after someone wet… the floor.
- – Loaded 4 boys into the car, including motivational praise, thinly veiled threats, and pretty intense negotiations regarding the fact that a favorite dump truck toy may join us for the ride, but may not go all the way into school.
- – Loaded 4 boys out of the car, in the rain, with only one umbrella, on a day when we had to park unusually far from the daycare entrance. Because the middle bros are evidently related to the Wicked Witch (must be their father’s side of the family) and at risk of melting in the rain, they walked under the umbrella, J sprinted inside leaving all of his school supplies in the car for me to fumble with as I carried C clumsily in with both of us getting drenched. But because my signature look is a wet top knot to start the day, no one noticed except that C looked like he had recently gone surfing.
- – Driven a 50 minute commute.
- – Budgeted time to use the restroom because no matter which combinations of the above events happened that morning, I have already been up for 3.5 hours and am 3 cups of coffee deep by 8:58AM.
Related: another one of my favorite ways to start the day // it’s manageable provided you have not been affected by this contagious affliction.
THE “IN OFFICE AND ON BRAND” EDITION
*****
After an article was passed around mentioning the unearthing of a Mastodon skeleton in an unexpected place:
Me: did you know that the Mastodon is our state fossil?
Co-worker 1: …no? How do you know that?? You have a fun fact for everything. I feel like you must have a running notepad of facts that you want to keep track of.
Me: funny you should say that… I started a new book and it’s taking me forever to read because I keep pausing to take notes on all the interesting facts. *laughs and shows her my Google Keep app’s top sticky note*
*****
Not more than 20 minutes later in a separate meeting:
Co-worker 2: this word, ‘galvanize…’ this sounds like a word you would use.
Me: really?
Co-worker 2: yes, you always use these specific, long words. I’m going to start keeping a running doc of all the long words you use.
Me: oh my gosh, that’s too funny. But really, I do love using just the right word for just the right occasion. It’s so satisfying.
Co-worker 2: I’m sure! I bet you have a mental list of all your favorite words…
Me: funny you should say that…
With the 3 older bros at varied heights, with varied ability to accurately aim, and varied amounts of experience practicing… suffice it to say I offer an “at your own risk” warning if someone who stopped by unexpectedly asks to use the restroom. But even if we have advanced notice of company, it’s difficult to know that a recently cleaned bathroom will remain clean because… well, a lot can happen in a few moments without parental supervision in our home.
We were at a party at our neighbors’ house when the mom (of 3 boys) made an admission that I found beyond brilliant and therefore cite as my 7th parenting hack:
After you’ve cleaned the downstairs bathroom, lock the door from the outside so that your children – by process of elimination (no pun intended) – have to go upstairs and use their own bathroom instead. Just before guests arrive, unlock the downstairs bathroom door.
Hack #7: They Can’t Make a Mess of the Bathroom if They Can’t *GET* to the Bathroom.
wine from a can and
poker with kix-based antes.
adulting is fun.
There are few ways I prefer to spend a day than slathered up in sunscreen, basking in the sun’s warmth, and watching my kids unintentionally accrue deceptively high volumes of sand in their hair and bathing suits as they happily play. Something about the tranquility of the water, the inability to multi-task with something “productive,” the resignation to the mess as such a small price to pay for so much joy…
Some people bring books, or beach chairs, or headphones to the beach; signs of quiet stillness. Others bring coolers filled with libations, equipment for a sand volleyball game, devices to photograph those sun-kissed moments; signs of social livelihood.
For this life stage, my beach scene must-haves:
1. Snacks: Twizzlers, classic potato chips, and an ice-cold Coke, poured over a massive, brightly colored [plastic] glass of ice (thank my grandma for this one — she drank Coke like this year-round, but this image will forever remind me of warm weather and vacations with her). Food pyramid be damned; there is nothing quite like junk food snacking while spending extended periods in the water.
2. A cute beach bag, even if I’m only just stepping a few feet from our patio. I secretly coveted these Peloton Mom cult-followed Bogg Bags, and these reclaimed sail bags, but fortunately my mom intercepted me before I over-spent and made me this darling mesh-bottomed bag featuring the Lake Michigan fan favorite and state stone, the Petoskey!
3. Sun coverage for the fairest skinned of us. Long-sleeved rash shirts for the older bros (dual purpose: element protection and less time spent literally wrestling my ticklish children into many more square inches of sunscreen application) and this comically large sun hat for C. At some point it dawned on me that this hat is a bit Handmaid’s-Tale-esque, but if that’s the cost of maximum coverage… praise be.
Related: time at the pool // speaking of Peloton moms…
THE “LIFE WITH BOYS” EDITION
*****
At A’s 3 year well check:
Pediatrician: oh dear, look at all these bruises on you, A! Where did these all come from? *Pauses and, when he doesn’t answer, looks up at me expectantly*
Me (literally starts to laugh out loud): oh I’m sorry, do you actually think I can keep track of this information with four boys??
July 2022
*****
Closing in on 30 minutes of an attempted family photo shoot during which the boys went from various states of jumping to fighting to running around and dragging props across the studio floor:
Photographer: you know what, let’s just… let’s just embrace the motion. Dave, Kel, why don’t you stand in the middle and we’ll have the boys just… um, how about they run in a circle around you??
July 2022
*****
Walking over to a play date at a friend’s house:
Me: please make sure to mind your manners when you’re over there, okay, J? Share toys, take turns, and try to be extra nice to Weston’s little sister. Do you remember her name?
J: um… no.
Me: it’s Cameron. It’s her house, too, so please make sure to include her and be kind if she wants to play with you guys.
J: okay. So… wait. Is she his… little brother? Or big brother?
— July 2022, 7 years old
*****
As I was typing up this post, I received the following Google Opinion Rewards survey prompt. If there was a “1000% yes I have but TBH I have had better” option, I would have selected it from the drop-down menu.
Related: tell me you’re a boy mom without telling me you’re a boy mom // pronoun confusion
We moved into our current home shortly after J was born. In the months that followed, we met the couple that lived two doors down from us, Julie and Joe. We became fast friends, bonding over our similar life stage, easy interactions, and — despite our seemingly collective adult maturity — our mutual enjoyment of vapid reality TV. On Mondays after putting our kids to bed, we would get together, turn on the Bachelor, talk through half of the scenes, and polish off a bottle of wine (or two) over the course of the show.
Unfortunately, Julie and Joe moved a few miles away just before the pandemic began. But fortunately, by this time we had already firmly established our friendship and a mutual understanding that no one seek or share spoilers once the next Bachelor/Bachelorette season began.
In recent years, we started a bet: during episode one, everyone picks their projected winner for the upcoming season. Loser buys dinner. It’s silly, but the text threads trash talking each other’s picks or lamenting one’s own pick blatantly self-sabotaging has been a way to keep the casual conversation virtually alive even during COVID times when we didn’t see much of each other.
All this to say, Julie lost the latest season, and made good on the bet to take us out to dinner. But because Julie does nothing halfway, the night out warrants its own entire post.
First: we went to a charming speakeasy-style basement bar and had dinner and a couple of drinks. Julie encouraged us to have more than one, as a matter of fact, to make the second part of our date extra effective.
We went to a “Pinspiration” site, which essentially involved us agonizing over creating an artistic vision for something meant to be super low-stakes, and then dancing around in a black-lit room splattering paint everywhere while listening to a 2000s throwback playlist. Suffice it to say, the extra drinks were indeed the right call.
The final spot on our tour-de-double-date was a bar that I would’ve sworn was a divey biker hangout (having never been there, of course), but evidently is a thriving, historical gem, known across Michigan for live music, drinks, and family friendly fare (so say Julie and Joe, who bring their kids for lunches).
We called it a night at about 10:30, after one of us unfortunately got an email that they had a last-minute scheduled 8AM C-level client call, and therefore we arranged for our DD (Julie’s dad) to pick us up and cart us all home.
2 observations from this night:
- If “quality time” is my love language, and Julie put that much thought into a “loser treats to dinner” proposition, it’s no wonder she is among my all-time favorite people.
- No matter how professional I may come across to clients or coworkers by virtue of work or title, no matter how adult I may seem or project to my children… it’s humbling to know that I am not so professional or adult that I can’t be found sitting in the backseat of my friend’s dad’s sedan, answering his questions about the night while feeling like a high schooler trying to get away with something.
Drive safe, everyone. And make some solid friends in your adult years. It’ll change your entire experience.
Me, at 6:45am: A, what is all over your face?
A: um… it was ice cream, Mom.
Me: Oh. …did you make a mess?
A, sincerely and without shame: I did, Mom.
^Please note: soup ladle (his “scooper”) and remains of his ice cream cone. Kid commits to the experience, and you have to respect that.
Before anyone fret over my 3-year-old’s decidedly unhealthy breakfast this morning, please note in the background of the photo that he also helped himself to half a “clem” and, of course, an apple that he’ll surely come back to later.
Related: we have been here before // parenting hack: healthy snacks
