This week, many moms on other blogs I read have posted about “keeping it real” by sharing that sometimes they have days that are less than idyllic. This would be reassuring if 99% of their other posts didn’t include fantastic photography, model homes, foreign travel, philanthropic kids, thriving “hobby businesses”…you know, perfection. If I didn’t know any better I’d assume that the rest of the world’s families live straight out of the Anthropologie catalog.
Today I don’t have any photos of our Paris “philanthropacation” where the kids and I toured The Louvre in between fundraisers for French orphans, so sorry in advance if you were here looking for that kind of thing. It’s business as usual over here. Some days are great, some days are not.
Waiting for the kindergarten bus.
After my pointed email to the teacher, Kellan’s behavior has either done a 180 or the school has decided that what I don’t know won’t kill me. Either choice is fine by me. Ignorance = bliss. Truth.
After Kellan leaves every afternoon, Larissa and I are left to our own devices. One day I took her on a bike ride to the park (mostly because the alternative was staying home to face my disarrayed kitchen/living room).
Larissa’s response to my offer was about as enthusiastic as if I’d invited her to attend a tax reform seminar. When we arrived at the park, I had to pry her out of the bike trailer. She took one look around and immediately demanded to be taken home. I forced her to swing and then told her we weren’t leaving until she went down the slide four times. It was super-fun. This trip taught me a valuable lesson about parental guilt: it’s not worth it. My kid clearly does NOT feel deprived because I am not frolicking in the afternoon sun with her. In fact, she’s irritated because by attempting to do so I am taking away from the crucial time she needs to practice being Angelina Jolie.
Just killing time until her Ethiopian baby is ready.
This leaves me with much more time to entertain myself.
Weston had his turn with allergy testing.
Postive! For just about everything.
Things have been borderline terrible with Weston over the last few months. I am desperately trying to find a new set of doctors to take a look at him in hopes that we can update his diagnoses and attempt to start a different course of treatment and/or medication. I really feel for this kid. Part of me really gets how his head works because I suspect it’s a lot like mine, but part of me is so very lost because I don’t have any answers for how to help him. Imagine playing “hot potato” with an activated hand grenade and that’s pretty much how it feels to be Weston’s mom. I never know what’s going to set him off and I never know what it’ll take to calm him down.
Tonight’s beautiful baseball sky.
I thought that life would be a little easier since Hayden and Eliza quit soccer this fall. Fat chance. Eliza has replaced soccer with Crossfit and gymnastics. Hayden is still full-time at tennis. Weston remained in soccer and added fall baseball. Truth be told, I love watching my kids play….unless it’s 48 degrees out and I’m wrapped up like this. In mid-September.
This is the lower half. My upper half was wearing a winter coat. WINTER. COAT.
Weston pitched. It did not go well. Like I said…sometimes he’s okay. Sometimes he’s not.
The “wind-up”. Literally.
Weston is competitive. Anxious. Intense. One pebble tumbles down the hill and the next thing you know…avalanche. On a positive note, somehow we managed to drive home without drama. Somehow I said all the right things - or didn’t say them. Somehow Weston was able to let a bit of it go. Sometimes I catch a break.
Afterwards, I went home and relaxed by whipping out a few of these: