Sock Monkey

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Once upon a time my relation with my husband wasn't perfect. In fact we had separated and happened to be maintaining alternate addresses. During that time of evaluation my husband liberated the do it yourself sock monkey kit from our closet.

Yes, that sock monkey the one you see MiniMonkey cuddling with almost didn't exist because we weren't able to talk about our problems. So back to our winter of discontent. I was alone and he was alone and monkey was parts to be assembled in a box.

It came to be that he spent a few nights stitching a monkey. While I slept alone and so did he. I don't remember what I did besides work and sleep during those dark days.Come Christmas he brought me a monkey that I would of never made for myself. That was when I knew. Sometimes there is good, there is bad, and there is just ugly moments.

Than there is your toddler demanding and cuddling with the monkey of discontent. Monkey might not be happy but we are. So there is your happy ending.

My family

Some people define family as those people that they share genetic make up with. While I have a fantastic family of people who I am luck enough that fate and time has made it so I share genetic make up with. There is another group of people.

These are the people who have become family. Not because they are related via dna but because they have come into my life and they have stuck. Kind of like when you accidentally step in gum and it becomes an addition to your new sneakers. Is it perfect, no. Is it beautiful, no. However thick/thin/happy/craptastic ugly nastiness there the are.

So as i get older the more I value my family who might not always share dna.  These few these faithful  few this bad of brothers we. (ok Shakespeare quote because I value knowledge that has no acknowledged worth. Add it to the list of things I have wasted time on. ). These are the people who show up when I need them. Who laugh when I try to hard with a joke. Because if I am making a joke than I am ok even if things are falling apart around me.  Those who get that I am not a perfect wife/mother/daughter/friend. Those folks who love me regardless.

This blog is dedicated to those who have stuck by me and encouraged me. We aren't perfect but sometimes a simple check in even though its been a decade or so since we last had shenanigans or snacks. Sometimes its a text, or a phone call out of the blue. It's the affirmation that I am here and you are there but there are the ties that bind.

How grateful am I for these ties. Ties of kinship and ties that have been forged due to shared experiences. I love you all even though I grump and there is distance. I often don't pick up the phone because that's what I do for a living but when I get a message or my phone rings or an email notification pops I feel the love and it feels like home. 

#Sunday Confessions #inthecar

older photo of the Minimonkey looking fabulous in the car seat

In the car is for us means different for us than most people. I don't drive the truth of the matter is I could and probably should. My sister in law asked me the other day why I don't and it's because a long time ago I had a car accident that shock that shook my confidence.  Later I moved to the Portland metro area after many adventures and paying for a vehicle with insurance and parking or being able to afford housing  was a choice I had to make. The choice I made was selfishly being able to afford to live alone and use public transit.

The nice part is in the car means someone else is driving (ie the hubs). That is our big time of the week usually to talk about what is going on. What we need to do and what steps we need take. Sometimes in the car means a trip for togo and eating on the way to/from work. Or it can mean an in van dance party in the drive thru at dutch brothers while they blast their tunes.

Sometimes in the car means leaning over the carseat and nursing. It has also meant pumping and flashing an innocent Jiffy Lube clerk (see previous blog post).

 It has also meant laughter and jokes with the bigs on the way home or to grandma's house. Sometimes its silly stops for ice cream. Or telling fart jokes. Or even just traveling in grump fashion after the end of a long weekend. We do a lot of talking in the car because well its not like we are going anywhere else. The truth is we do a lot in the car and it's ok because at least we are doing it together. 

Take your child to work day

The MiniMonkey ensuring we are working from home not the office.

Working quietly while being photo bombed, damn celebrities popping up in the office.

So yesterday was take your child to work day. While I think that it's great that littles have an opportunity to go to the office and see what mom and dad do to bring in a paycheck. I face a different kind of life. For us its a bigger deal when I don't have to take my child to work because that means its a day off for me and Minimonkey. My boss is amazing since the arrival of his monkeyness I have been able to adjust to a schedule where I work from home during the week and go to the office during the weekend. That means I never pay for daycare. It also means if I am working during the week the Minimonkey is working. So every work from home day is take my child to work day.

What that also means is my home office is designed not for my comfort but for his comfort. In homage to take your child to work day I finally got the dvd player set up (thank you husband). There are multiple nap spaces for him. I constantly have to make sure that I prepare for him to work with me. That means cycling toys and now dvds. Sometimes it means nursing him while taking and dispatching calls. Other times it means laughing and being force fed snacks between calls (Minimonkey is an amazing intern: how many other people get fed snacks like an emperor?). Or it can mean reading him stories a page at a time between calls. Worst case it can mean comforting a small person who wants to be done working and doesn't understand why mommy can't just be done talking to strangers.

So everyday is take my Minimonkey to work day and I am grateful for it. It can be rough. It can mean being a human jungle gym. It can also mean being asked by a doctor if I have a cat or monkey in my office. BUT the best part is Minimonkey has never gone to daycare. He gets to be my unpaid intern (well when I say unpaid I'm not factoring in mom guilt purchases like dvds, new books, toys, etc. anything that will help him be amused enough for mommy to work and him to be entertained and safe). It lets me bring home a paycheck and in his own way he contributes to our success.

Easter

Happy Easter to you all first off.

Once again it's that time of year where I miss having a big family around. A casual family. A comfortable family. Not having to get dressed up with a matching hair bow kind of family. The kind of family where you can all get together for Easter lunch in lounge wear. That it didn't matter so much what we were eating as we were together. True there were some traditions like the now great uncles sharing their Pepsi and Mt Dew. Yet there was never a set menu of ham, lamb, or roast beast. No one argued about who was bringing or making what. Or maybe they did and we just never saw it being children.

I think my happiest Easter memory was sitting with my cousins after dinner and having the post dinner candy feast and comparison. I remember when the Starburst jelly beans were new and same with the Lifesavers brand. Of course you had to try them all and than combine the different flavors. Than of course tell everyone what flavors you had combined and that they had to try it. I still get excited when I see them on the shelf ever year. They are also in the Bigs Easter basket because well tradition and happy memories.

Ok so far this blog post is sounding like a commercial for sugary snacks. What it really boils down to is that we had these really great moments of happy. It wasn't a super extravagant day but it was a good day. We spent it with people that we loved or at least liked and were related to.  A lot of the happiest moments of my childhood I look back and they weren't wearing fancy outfits or eating gourmet food. Instead it is the time spent with family. It's hard to live across the country especially during the holidays. True I do have my own family now and while it's little and good the Minimonkey will never know the joys of being part of the cousin herd because that's not  how our life is. He also has to deal with the fact that his siblings are older and will be leaving the nest while he's still little. It's time to figure out new traditions and be grateful for the memories.

Oh no I neglected you and Easter prep

I know it's been a while since there was a shiny new blog post here. No excuses folks other than life happened. To deal with life I kind of took a vacation from writing anything more pressing than homework and grocery lists. I was lacking the time, energy, and ability at the end of the day to put thoughts into non run on sentences or format them in a logical way. However we are past that period of crazy. Moving forward to spring and summer and next semester.

In other neglected things. I have neglected to find the Mini an Easter plush bunny. When I was little it was the highlight of the basket (besides the candy). It seemed like there was always something perfect about the bunny each year. If it was just the color or shape or even a unique ribbon it was always special. Now I have reached almost zero hour. Where shipping is extremely expensive and not really an option. I have combed the shelves and still nothing. I thought I found THE BUNNY but it was too small. I thought I found another but it was too fancy. I want to find something that is more than just adequate when really what does it matter? He will be just as happy with a good enough bunny for years to come and doesn't need to know how many didn't make the cut and led to mommy feeling inadequate as a toy selector.

I am not Mrs Cleaver

I have to admit even though it wasn't my home life I always thought being a good mom meant that you were like Mrs. Cleaver or those other 1950's television housewives. You know the stereotype I mean. Where mom is at home all day, she cooks, she cleans, she looks effortlessly put together even when the kiddo gets caught sneaking in the middle of the night. She has her husband a cocktail and his slippers ready when he comes walking through the door. We never see her have a melt down or shot tequila out of the bottle because she is burn out and just can't handle it. No she is the picture of perfect wife and mother.

That standard of mothering perfection is something I am no longer going to hold myself up to. Will the house be kept clean, yes! However we live here. We are home a lot because it's also my office for 4 days of the week. That means there may be plates in the sink, the rug might need a vacuum, and sometimes the house might even look like I have gone with a shabby chic ozian winged monkey attack theme. It's ok that doesn't make me a bad mother that makes me a mother who needs to clean and who could maybe use some help.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks! They happen it's true. However they might not always be perfect multicourse meal. Some nights they could be salad, main, and desert offerings. Other nights it could be pizza out of a box or chicken out of a bucket. It's a good thing I am just snobby/lazy enough to get the organics to you produce box delivered so even if I am a horrible mother we can ward off scurvy with some fruit and vegetables. End of the day I have still gotten everyone fed. Why can't we just call that a win even if it wasn't a 100% organic free range dinner.

My life is not the life of a 1950's housewife so the standard can't be the same. I work outside of the home, I am a student, as well as wife and mother. If I could put the 80 some hours a week I spend on those pursuits into home making than maybe my husband would have me meeting him at the door with a perfectly shaken martini and his slippers. The truth is though the hubs is a perfectly capable human being who could shake his own damn martini if he wanted one. If anyone needs me I will be out lowering the bar for mothers everywhere.