She Says "Don't Carpe Diem." I Agree

Today I read a blog post that a fellow triplet mom linked on Facebook. It was an epiphany for me, the kind of thing that had me laughing, nodding and saying, "Yes! Exactly!" It was a post that banished some myths and abolished some of my mommy guilt.

I want you to hop over to Momastery and read Glennon's post titled, "Don't Carpe Diem." She says it all far better than I can.

I appreciate Glennon's honest perspective that this parenting gig is hard work, and it's just not reality to enjoy every moment of every day. Like today, for example, when kids didn't nap and Candy Land became a full contact sport. But it is possible to enjoy some moments of every day. In fact, it's almost impossible not to.

Thanks, Glennon, for voicing the honest truth that so many of us live.

Christy

© Trippin' Mama 2011

The Dress-up Dilemma

If you've been reading the blog for any length of time, you know that we are big on pretending and dressing up around here.

My boys think nothing of wearing Amelia's princess dress-up clothes or even her everyday clothes and tights.

Lately, Alex has developed an obsession with a new blue knit dress Amelia got. It has ruffles around the bottom and he calls it his "Dora dress."

He's worn it every day for almost a week, and even fought with his sister over whose turn it was to wear it.

So the other day Alex was in that dress before breakfast. We were getting ready to go to the Y and he asked me if he could wear his dress. I hesitated.

That night at supper I posed the question to Jeff. "Would you let Alex wear his blue dress to the Y?" I waited for his answer before I would tell him how I had handled the situation.

Jeff thought about it a bit, and then said, "He's three. He can wear whatever he wants. It doesn't mean anything."

I thought that was very liberated of him, and I agreed 100 percent.

Which is why I told Alex he couldn't wear his dress to the Y.

Yep, that's right. I said "No."

I didn't explain my answer to Alex, but the reason I said no is because I was afraid that someone would look at him and say, "You're a boy. You shouldn't be wearing a dress."

And I didn't want anyone to take that away from him.

Alex is three, and he should have the joy of playing dress up without worrying about what others think.

How about you? What would you have done?

© Trippin' Mama 2011

Writer's Workshop: Things You Wish You Could Say

This week's prompt: List 10 things you wish you could say to strangers who share unsolicited advice about your parenting skills.


10. Let me know when you're teaching your next parenting class and I'll be there.

9. Are you real, or are you just another voice in my head?

8. You think this is a temper tantrum? I'll show you a temper tantrum!

7. That advice and $3.75 will buy me a latte at Starbucks. And I could really use the caffeine.

6. Really? Why couldn't you just be like everyone else and pretend this meltdown isn't happening?

5. I know you think that you are doing me a favor by sharing your thoughts. Believe me when I tell you that I am doing you a favor by not sharing my mine.

4. When you've successfully raised your triplets, you get back to me.
3. (Sing-song, with fingers in my ears) I'm not lis-ten-ing!

2.  AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!

1. Thank you for that unsolicited advice. I'll consider it later while I have a glass of wine and let my children run naked in the yard.

Inspired by:

© Trippin' Mama 2011

How Parenting Is Like the Olympics

When the sound of a puking child broke the silence last night I executed some Olympic medal-worthy moves to go to her aid.

Seriously, I could have competed on the snowboard halfpipe with my moves. I launched myself from a prone to position to fully upright and across the room without touching the floor. Then I upped the degree of difficulty by pulling on a robe as I flew down the hall. Extra points for being unable to see because I didn't have my glasses on.

Eat my powder Shaun White!

Except for the fact that there are no medals or big endorsement deals, parenting is just like the Olympics.

Ever tried to answer a child's difficult question without really answering it? I give you ice dancing.

Navigated your playroom at breakneck speed to prevent further disaster or harm to a child? Slalom.

Sped through the day's schedule dodging tantrums and meltdowns at every turn? Why, downhill skiing, of course!

Felt that your days go around and around, endlessly the same? Speed skating it is!

Clearly I'm caught up in the Winter Games, but there are lots of Summer Games events that parents could compete in, too.

Child in danger? 100-yard dash, baby. Depending on the circumstances, you might even break a record!

Your child’s first day of school, first day with a driver's license, first date? Well, I don't know about you, but I'm thinking my stomach will feel like I'm about to dive off the 10-meter platform.

Juggling everyone's schedules and needs? Sounds like the balance beam to me.

I just hope Amelia keeps this bug to herself, or I'll be doing the decathalon around here. And I'm pretty sure I haven't trained enough to compete.

How about you? What's your favorite Parenting Olympic event?

© Trippin' Mama 2010

And Then There Was One

As I write this, Sam is still up. He's been a bit under the weather, so he's allowed.

We were up at 1:30 a.m. with both Sam and Isaac. It's unusual to get up with either of them, let alone both! Isaac had a dirty diaper and went right back to sleep as soon as he was changed.

But Sam, well, turns out Sam was the source of the smell in the nursery, not Isaac. He apparently threw up sometime after we put him to bed. His pajamas and blankets were prefectly clean, but that lion's mane of red hair was absolutely mattted down. ICK! I washed his hair twice and still didn't get all of the smell out, but apparently the smell didn't bother him since he slept in it for about five hours. Another couple scrubs today finally took care of it.

Luckily, thanks to the best piece of advice I received when I was expecting my first baby, Sam's crib was double sheeted. So we removed the top sheet and mattress pad and the bed was ready for him again.

You know, no one tells you when you decide to become parents that you're signing up for midnight vomiting sessions and blowout diapers.

Maybe that's for the best.

Because if anyone really knew all the gross things they were letting themselves in for, the future of the human race might be in serious jeopardy.