In case you hadn't noticed, this isn't exactly a typical mom blog. Why? Because most of the blogs I've seen that are specifically geared toward parenting are about reviews, giveaways, new crafts to try and how to organize a mudroom.
It's not that I'm against those things. I read my fair share of parenting-oriented posts and enjoy them. I keep hoping that if I see enough crafts in pictures that a magical crafting fairy will swoop down and give my children the kind of fine motor and glitter glue experiences they don't often get from me*. The thing is, I'm more of the stress-induced twitching, bad word-mumbling, underachieving kind of parent. Always have been, always will be - as much as I've fought against it. There's no time to stencil personalized cubbies in a mudroom if I'm this busy yelling, right? It's not like I'm a great multitasker.
Oh, how I wish I could paint a pretty picture for people who happen to stumble upon this blog looking for advice, support, or a primer on becoming more serene parents. How I wish they could read a post I've written and take away something encouraging, enlightening, uplifting. About the most I can do is shine a bright light upon my mediocre parenting skills in hopes that readers can leave feeling a lot better about themselves.
But every now and then, I do something seriously mom-ish; something I'm proud of because it could have been read about on a blog from those other moms who are actually good at this shit. Today was a great example.
I mentioned in a previous post about how I whined and batted my eyelashes into a brand new Nikon SLR camera for Mother's Day. This has been, by far, been the best purchase we couldn't afford in years. I've been snapping far more pictures lately. My little gremlins are fast, but this camera is usually faster. And the battery life is incredible; it goes longer than a bad porn movie that should have ended several encounters ago and you're all like, "How is this thing still on?"
(I'd talk about how big it is too, but after comparing it to a porn movie I really have nowhere to go but down. You can't back-peddle into the waters of appropriateness after making sexual comparisons. It's bad form.)
Anyway, I stuffed the big, hard camera into my soft, open, pink purse and took the youngest fighting furies to the library. I made them borrow books because that's what good moms do, and then rewarded them by borrowing some movies and taking them into the nearby mall to buy them junk food to eat when they watch said movies. (See? Mediocrity: it's how I roll.)
As we were walking through the parking lot, my mommy instincts kicked in (like a tigress, I tell you) and I snapped some pictures:
And oh my good lawd, are they gorgeous or what? I mean, seriously. Good job on the procreation, me!
Um, I mean us. I think my husband was involved in the process a little.
These boys may end up slightly dysfunctional from all those times I've locked myself in my room and screamed into a pillow, but I'm hoping the good looks make up for it a bit.
* I just need to say that - by pure coincidence - I had to stop writing this post halfway through and help Spawnling cut a door into an empty printer box so he could get into his "rocket ship."**
** I just need to say that Spawnling insisted that the door didn't have to be that big because it's "just for decoration," and then the minute I was done he burst into tears and wailed about how he couldn't possibly fit through that door because it's too small, and why didn't I cut it bigger, and now he's going to need a new box. We have no other boxes because I'm not a mover nor an eBay addict. Serious problem. The way he wanted the door meant I couldn't cut it any bigger without ruining the whole thing. Thankfully, Gutsy saved the day by contorting himself through the door and into the "rocket ship" and Spawn followed suit as he wiped his tears away. Crisis averted.***
*** I just need to say that this is why I don't do a lot of crafts with my kids.
It's not that I'm against those things. I read my fair share of parenting-oriented posts and enjoy them. I keep hoping that if I see enough crafts in pictures that a magical crafting fairy will swoop down and give my children the kind of fine motor and glitter glue experiences they don't often get from me*. The thing is, I'm more of the stress-induced twitching, bad word-mumbling, underachieving kind of parent. Always have been, always will be - as much as I've fought against it. There's no time to stencil personalized cubbies in a mudroom if I'm this busy yelling, right? It's not like I'm a great multitasker.
Oh, how I wish I could paint a pretty picture for people who happen to stumble upon this blog looking for advice, support, or a primer on becoming more serene parents. How I wish they could read a post I've written and take away something encouraging, enlightening, uplifting. About the most I can do is shine a bright light upon my mediocre parenting skills in hopes that readers can leave feeling a lot better about themselves.
But every now and then, I do something seriously mom-ish; something I'm proud of because it could have been read about on a blog from those other moms who are actually good at this shit. Today was a great example.
I mentioned in a previous post about how I whined and batted my eyelashes into a brand new Nikon SLR camera for Mother's Day. This has been, by far, been the best purchase we couldn't afford in years. I've been snapping far more pictures lately. My little gremlins are fast, but this camera is usually faster. And the battery life is incredible; it goes longer than a bad porn movie that should have ended several encounters ago and you're all like, "How is this thing still on?"
(I'd talk about how big it is too, but after comparing it to a porn movie I really have nowhere to go but down. You can't back-peddle into the waters of appropriateness after making sexual comparisons. It's bad form.)
Anyway, I stuffed the big, hard camera into my soft, open, pink purse and took the youngest fighting furies to the library. I made them borrow books because that's what good moms do, and then rewarded them by borrowing some movies and taking them into the nearby mall to buy them junk food to eat when they watch said movies. (See? Mediocrity: it's how I roll.)
As we were walking through the parking lot, my mommy instincts kicked in (like a tigress, I tell you) and I snapped some pictures:
And oh my good lawd, are they gorgeous or what? I mean, seriously. Good job on the procreation, me!
Um, I mean us. I think my husband was involved in the process a little.
These boys may end up slightly dysfunctional from all those times I've locked myself in my room and screamed into a pillow, but I'm hoping the good looks make up for it a bit.
* I just need to say that - by pure coincidence - I had to stop writing this post halfway through and help Spawnling cut a door into an empty printer box so he could get into his "rocket ship."**
** I just need to say that Spawnling insisted that the door didn't have to be that big because it's "just for decoration," and then the minute I was done he burst into tears and wailed about how he couldn't possibly fit through that door because it's too small, and why didn't I cut it bigger, and now he's going to need a new box. We have no other boxes because I'm not a mover nor an eBay addict. Serious problem. The way he wanted the door meant I couldn't cut it any bigger without ruining the whole thing. Thankfully, Gutsy saved the day by contorting himself through the door and into the "rocket ship" and Spawn followed suit as he wiped his tears away. Crisis averted.***
*** I just need to say that this is why I don't do a lot of crafts with my kids.