Again.

Once again, I find myself with several draft posts & no desire to share them once I reread them.

They’re full of complaints about the three year old who woke me out of a dead [NyQuil!] sleep, then proceeded to whine like it was his job [wait, it isn't, right?] for the rest of that entire day, my husband’s job & how I hate that he has to work when everyone else gets to stay home because of the snow [oh, there was one in addition to this], & blah, blah, blah.

The thing is, I just can’t seem to get into a good blogging groove again. And to be quite honest, a lot of the things I want to write about are not fit for the Internet. Not in a controversial way, in a the-people-who-need-to-know-already-know-and-maybe-not-everyone-needs-to-know way.

I’m barely finding time to read blogs, let alone write my own. But these are a few of the posts that have made me nod & smile & say, “YES, THAT!” in the past week or so.

From Scissortail SILK:

I wanted to whisper to his tender little heart,

“Yes, I will always be your mommy, and you will always be my little boy.

Even when you grow into a big elementary school boy and don’t want me to walk you into your classroom anymore.

Or when it stops being cool to give me a hug goodbye…

As you turn around from the dugout or bench or sidelines and just wish that I would quit cheering so loudly…

I will still be your mommy.

When you find yourself in trouble for the first time, when you make a mistake, when you choose to act in a way that doesn’t show God’s love…

I will still be your mommy then too.

I will still be your mommy when you are picked first or last or choose not to play at all.

When you decide you want to quit or give up and really dislike me when I make you keep going…

As you consider colleges and the future and we pray together about what you should do next,

And when the time comes and you drive away with a truck full of your things and a heart full of hope for the future…

You will still be my little boy, and I will still be your mommy.

And my son, as another girl catches your eye, or breaks your heart, or makes you chase after her…

Or when that girl becomes more than just another girl and you tell me it is love.

When there are rings, and vows and babies and long stretches in between phone calls –

I want you to remember that I will always be your mommy.

Because there are no words that you could say, and nothing you could do that would change my love for you or who you are to me.

I will always be your mommy, and you will always always be my little boy.”

From Kristen Howerton, who writes at Rage Against the Minivan:

I don’t like the feeling of disappointing my kids. But I refuse to give into this holiday overkill. I’m overwhelmed enough as it is. Today I gave all of my kids a bath. We read with each of them for the recommended 20 minutes. We reviewed our math facts. We practiced guitar. We sat together at the table and ate a meal that was NOT procured at a drive-thru.  We played outside. Most days, I’m struggling to achieve all these things. I can’t have these haphazard, once-monthly overblown holidays take over my life.  I can go big for Christmas and Easter. That’s all I can handle.

But I can’t do this alone. Fellow parents… teachers… sunday school workers… I beseech you. BRING IT DOWN A NOTCH.  Ya’ll are setting up expectations that I just can’t maintain. Wouldn’t we all be just a little happier if we returned to the slacker days of store-bought valentines and kit-dyed eggs and JUST WEARING A GREEN SHIRT AND CALLING IT A DAY?

For the sake of overwhelmed parents like me, I beg you. Stop the madness.

From  Baby Rabies:

Oh hey there! I’m back from a little break I didn’t intend on taking. Technically, it was spring break here last week. We didn’t have anything big planned. I thought I’d blog a little. Obviously I grossly miscalculated what a butt-kicking 3 kids full time without Scott here would be.

His work trips are always perfectly timed.

Per usual, the weeks without him start out great. I have a PLAN. And I ATTACK. And I clean the house before bed.

Then as the week progresses, I lose hope, give up, and just sit in bed after the kids go to sleep, catching up on this season of Parenthood while the dirty dishes grow yogurt.

And finally, from Diana Wrote:

When we pray for God to shape and mold us, we are the clay, we give our lives to Him, do what you will with us – do we mean it? Is faith real if it’s only when we get what we want?

What if you give your life to Christ and your world crashes in? 

I don’t know. But I do know this – I’d rather have walked this rough path with my Savior than walked an easier one alone.

Why We Don’t Celebrate Valentine’s Day

As I said in my last post, M & I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.

We met in a restaurant. When we were dating, we both worked in restaurants. He has since gone back to working in restaurants while I hold down the fort at [right now] three jobs. Valentine’s Day never fit into our schedule, to be perfectly honest. We celebrated once, with a date to see Hitch in the theater.

I have never been a flowers kind of girl. He does bring me flowers on occasion, but I honestly don’t like roses. I prefer daisies or wildflowers. I like chocolate, but M doesn’t need a special day to buy it for me. [Really, M. You can buy me chocolate whenever you want. I won't disown you for it.] And let’s be real . . . this is an historically accurate presentation of what happened to Saint Valentine. [Disclaimer: a friend of mine made this last year, so it was kind of cool seeing it on social media again this year.]

Happy (historically accurate) Valentine’s Day!

When we moved to Delaware, I wasn’t a baseball fan. I quietly read while M soaked in being able to watch the Phillies play without needing to go a sports bar. I have my husband’s desire to watch the sport & Chase Utley’s rear end to thank for my love of baseball. [I am nothing if not honest.] I went to my first game in August of 2005 & I haven’t looked back.

Like I said, M works in a restaurant. It was a given once he got back in to that life that we would never be able to spend February 14 together, and truly, I don’t care. I think that’s the year he finally came up with the idea to celebrate Pitchers & Catchers Report Day. And I love it. We usually buy each other a some kind of a card, tear out the mushy stuff inside [if it's a Valentine's card], then write a quip about baseball. In 2012, he bought me a sympathy card that said, “With deepest sympathy” on the front. The inside read, “To the other teams in baseball.” That was probably the year I bought him a baseball shaped birthday card & crossed out the happy birthday to write something about baseball inside of it.

We are weird. We know it & embrace it.

This year, we celebrated a day early. I got him tickets to see Alton Brown. He bought me a Disney Infinity character that Butter thanked ME for buying for HIM.

I still rocked out cards for Butter’s class. Their party is tomorrow, I think, thanks to the snow.

Happy Baseball season everyone!

The Struggle Redux

The struggle to not complain when my husband has to work nights, weekends, holidays, and even in inclement weather is real.

My name is Trinity, and I am a restaurant widow.

Please don’t think I’m about to complain about not being able to celebrate Valentine’s Day with my husband. The truth is, he & I celebrated Valentine’s Day exactly once [we saw Hitch in theaters a few months after I moved in with him] & quickly realized it’s not a holiday for us. I don’t care about candy & flowers, & I think he mostly just appreciates that I don’t care about candy & flowers. We celebrate Pitchers & Catchers Report Day [incidentally, that's today], but that’s a story for another blog post.

But I do get a little miffed when the weather sucks, everyone else is home, a state of emergency has been declared, the mall is closed, & the National Guard has been called out & M still has to go in to work.

Gee, can you guess what happened today?

I was thrilled when the restaurant broadcast a message via their scheduling system that they’d be closed for lunch, & pretty excited that M said he didn’t have a “big” station tonight, so he thought he would be able to stay home if they opened for dinner. They opened at five & he was called in after spending 2.5 hours shoveling our driveway.

So I flipped out a little. Okay, a lot. Look, I love my husband, but this kind of thing never really bothered me before we had children. The last time we had a bad winter, he was the assistant GM at a restaurant & had to go in because the GM lived in New Jersey. I threw a fit then, too. What I’m saying is I worry about his safety.

For the record, I told him to go in tonight after I freaked out. It’s a short month & we have a lot of bills. [Remember The Leak?] Only after I maybe yelled a lot while he was on the phone with his boss. And only after he told me that, out of 25 people on the schedule tonight, four had agreed to come in.

The roads were clear when he went in. I was more worried about what it’s doing now [thunder snow!] & what it’s supposed to do as the hour gets later. He dropped me a text when he got there, then again a little while ago. Apparently they got slammed with people. Which is good for us, I suppose. I just wish he didn’t have to be on the road, which is going to get worse as the night goes on, with other people. Because when it comes down to it, it’s not that I don’t trust his ability to drive. I just don’t trust anyone else on the road.

If your spouse had to work during this storm, how did you handle it?

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