Happy Place!

There’s a place where everyone goes to feel safe. I have been thinking about my safe place for a while. It’s not an actual place. It’s imaginary. It’s a beautiful colorful, lighted place where I can sit and think. My thoughts are clear as day, and they are just as twisted, and just as complicated as I like them to be. Nothing around me is in a straight line.

Who likes things to be neat and straight anyway? There is so much more fun to be had when stuff is going ON. Everything is clear but its in circles. For example: there are clouds, however, they are rainbow-colored. One can sit for days, and try to decipher how the heck did that happen. That is a good kind of complicated. Can the sun be purple? Sure it can. It is where you go to think about where anything is possible. Sounds a lot like Dr. Suess’ world. Might just be. We read a lot of those books in this house.


I let my kids borrow from it sometimes when they can’t figure out which way to turn or their nights are darker than usual. Everyone needs some rays of purple sunshine every now, and again. Today I’m letting more than just my kids borrow my happy place. There are many reasons for it. Sometimes you see things very clearly. Sometimes things aren’t clear at all. Sometimes things are the good kind of complicated, and that good kind of complicated can bring out the crazy kind of frustrations that makes you say…uhmm…maybe I need to find more than one happy place.

We are packing up, moving out yet again. Going to different, “uniquer”, always scarier pastures. This time the kids are aware of this change and they are not moving along smoothly. Change comes with life; unfortunately they are too young to understand that. Unlike our happy places, every new place we move to doesn’t feel safe. It only has a purple sun without the beautiful rays coming out of it.

Share your happy places with me. Tell me how you help your kids settle with moving to a new place. They are young but at any age kids are perceptive and never ready for a big change. Leaving their school, friends, and only life they have known. Never fun, never easy, and the people making them leave all this behind…EVIL!

Im Not A Terrible Mom

I’m not a terrible mom y’all. I’m one of those people who judge. Yes, that is the end of that sentence. I judge too much. I can pretend that it’s not true, that in my heart I don’t think, ”how can you let your child get hurt in the face three times in a row? Why didn’t you think to move the chair from that spot after the first time she bumped her head THIS hard on that thing” when you tell me she keeps bumping into the chair you have in your living room. Every time she walks in she just bangs right into it. I might have laughed and said, that’s so cute because of shes still wobbly and is still learning to walk, but…not what I’m thinking. I wish I was better than that.

Here’s the thing though; I do that with myself as well. I judge myself even more harshly. Maybe in many cases, I will see where you are coming from. Maybe I will understand that you can’t keep rearranging the furniture. That your daughter needs to see it, and eventually, she will. After all, how many things can she bang into? Are you going to remove every obstacle from in front of her?

I get it. When it comes to myself, I don’t always, get it. I am my harshest critic. Then something happens. I tell my kid it’s time for bed, his 5 minutes of play is over, he can’t read another book and he tells me that I’m a bad mom. There are that judgment and terrible doubt. Maybe if you were listening to a bit more carefully, and gave him more warnings he would be better prepared. The annoying little weeds of doubts. I’m not doing it right.

Then we see things. I’ve talked about it before. I know I’ve done this before. That’s the problem with us humans. Especially with creatures like mothers, once or twice is never enough. We are so full of self-doubt and negative emotion for ourselves that we need all the help we can get in this department.

The world turns on us every minute, second if it can. We turn on each other. We are always, ALWAYS ready to tell each other that there is a better way to do what we are doing with the beings we love the most in this world. When we get told we might be messing up our most loved possessions…well nothing messes us up more than that.

Until…UNTIL they tell you that we are getting it right. Also that we are 20 years younger than we actually are.

Only in moments like those I give myself a break and realize that I’m not terrible and my kid doesn’t think so either. Really, at the end of the day what does it matter what a few acquaintances or even people around me think. They are not my child’s mother. They are not in the trenches with me. They can never understand the nights spent holding them protecting them from the thunder and lightning. They can never understand the joy and pain of watching them take the first step but then letting them bump into that chair to learn that there will be objects, go around. Or stop and read the room. But my child gets it. They may tell me at the moment that they don’t like me or hate me even, but they get me.

For real.

Lets Play Catch!

A thought came to me the other day: Why do only dads play catch? I mean it’s nice that it’s a thing. However, why is it a thing only between sons, and fathers? I don’t have a daughter but what if I had one? What if that was a thing we did? Also, I have two sons, and we play catch all the time. Why isn’t that glorified? When they grow up and tell their children stories about what they did with their parents, would throwing the ball around with me or going outside and splashing in water mean less than it does with their father because I’m a woman? Will the stories have less meaning? Time spent is time spent, right? Sometimes they cook with their dad. Does that mean less because he’s a dude? That’s still heard of but the other stuff with mom, oh no. No, no. No. No. We don’t do that. We can’t ever do that.

The other day my son said to me, let’s do something fun. “Let’s play catch”, as I said that I was surprised at my own thought process. The thing was we play all the time. We just had not defined what we were doing. Up until that moment I don’t think I had called it this. I don’t remember calling it anything. Why was it so weird to me that I , a mother, a FEMALE, was going to play “catch”? I think I watch too many movies and tv shows. You would think this problem, and the other one would not be related. In this scenario, they sort of are.

Have you noticed what moms are usually doing with the children when it comes to having fun? Most likely, nothing. If they ever ARE doing something, it’s cooking or just lazily tickling them on the couch. Maybe, drawing or coloring. I know, I also complain A LOT about my kids. Along with that, I do have fun with them. When we play, more likely then not we are doing something rough and crazy, because…well…that’s who those boys are. So, that is what I’m required to do as their mom with them. Those are the stories they will have. The stories that start with, “remember the time we made brownies with mom will be fewer, and far between” compared with, “remember when we were trying to jump from the sofa onto the bed and we pretending she’s the lava that we cant land on but you landed on her head? Haha, fun! Or the time she was the evil lion and I was the kitten that was running away from her and to save my life I licked her. She was so annoyed.” Yeah because HOW DOES LICKING A LION SAVE A KITTEN’S LIFE? That got away from me. I apologize. You get the picture.

How many TV shows, movies will show you that? Because moms are home. When kids are around and this is what they’re into, this is what the kind of play they will demand. We don’t have a choice. We can’t drag them into the kitchen for an organized kitchen day. Or a sit-down puzzle making. They can’t wait for a certain parent to come home to start their imagination and games. They grab whoever is available.

There is some truth to the idea that mothers play less than fathers probably, but there are some solid reasons for it. We might get into that some other day. Today, I wanted to talk about this issue.

Today I wanted to let all of the ball catchers out there to know that women can catch and throw as needed. Whether we want to or need to is a separate question and is entirely up to us.