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I can’t tell you the exact date I officially met the One, I’ve slept since then. What I can tell you is that it was all Hubby’s doing.

After having a baby, moving states, away from my family to help Hubbys’, and the death of my Papaw. My desire for social interaction was at an all time low. If I could avoid leaving the house for any reason, I did.

Hubby made that all too easy. Being in between jobs, he volunteered to take D too and from kindergarten. Allowing me to stay home and focus on 3 month old A and 3 year old G. My world had become narrowed down to my family.

I’m not a social person to begin with. I find meeting people, making friends, and being in groups of people very stressful. So when Hubby came home one day and basically in one sentence told me he was both going back to work and he’d set it up for D to walk to school with one of her classmates and his mom. I may have had a bit of a panic attack. I considered calling D in sick for the rest of the year.

Hubby reassured me everything would be fine though. “She reminds me a lot of you.” Because unlike me, when he was doing drop off and pick up, he was social.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, I don’t remember much after that. I remember this cute little boy and his cute little mom coming to the front door to get D. I remember how excited she was. She’d only been in school for about a week or two and she already had a new friend who lived just around the corner.

I do remember thinking “I really hope she doesn’t think I’m a helicopter mother.” And “It’s not that I don’t trust you to walk with my kid to school by y’alls selves, but I promised Hubby I’d make an effort, and I have issues with letting go.” What actually came out, “Hi, I’m D’s mom. You can call me Kelli.”

From there we just kinda stuck. Her sense of humor was the same as mine. Her ideas of momming were on level with mine. Truth is, she did remind me a lot of me, maybe just nicer. Not to mention she had really cool hair that I was beyond jealous of and she was brave enough to rock it.

I couldn’t tell you when I realized she was my One. The Mom that got me and didn’t make me feel judged. No matter what came out of my mouth, because I’m pretty sure I stopped censoring myself fairly early. There’s also a good possibility Hubby realized it before me that I had met my soul-mom. I told you it was his fault. All his doing.

I’m super lucky that he set me up with Kristina. I’m thankful everyday she’s in my life. We laugh together and cry together. She’s my friend, my sounding board, my support, and every now and then she gives me the tough love. She lets me lose my shit and helps keep me sane all at the same time. She keeps me grounded.

She’s the friend I didn’t know I needed and I can’t live without. I hope every mom out there gets the chance to find their One, because to me my One is a lifesaver.

I have time, and lots  of it. I have time to check in with C all day long, every day. I have time for B to help her with school and sit and listen about her day and her friends. I have time for D because she likes Mommy and me time, or even just to show me that she can ride her skateboard standing up now. I have time for G who likes to lay together and watch shows or play on electronics, or have serious 4 year old conversations. I have time for A who likes to snuggle and play depending on his mood. I have time for Hubby who sometimes wants to talk or sometimes wants a back rub.

I have time to clean, cook, care and keep up with everything and everyone in my home. Even though sometimes the procrastination is strong within me. I still make the time to do all the things that need doing.

The thing is, I’m the only person I don’t have time for. Well, maybe don’t isn’t the right word, but make is. I have a hard time making time for myself. Like just now, I paused to help the kids get ready for school tomorrow and bed tonight. Then paused again to help Hubby clean off the bed for bed. And I’ll probably stop this again a few more times before I’m finished to give my time to them some more.

Making time for family comes naturally to me. It’s easy and I enjoy it, most of the time.  Unlike making time for me. Which, sometimes feels like it takes a miracle, and with my kids and Hubby in the back of my mind, I might not always enjoy it.

Spare minutes for me, “Me Time”, usually tends to happen after I’ve lost my mind. The “Crazy Mama” needs to be alone for a bit. Then when my time is up, usually signaled by Hubby needing an out or A needing his mama (most of the time one causes the other), I can come back feeling somewhat normal. Whether it’s 10 minutes away or an hour.

However, finding the time to make that happen and to put myself first rarely happens. Only when there is a push or a pop. Hubby tries; he got me a spa day once (it was glorious) and he got me a gift certificate for a hair cut (so … I haven’t used that one, more because I don’t know what I want rather than a time issue). He encourages me to get out, go out, have fun. He encourages me being more than his wife and more than the kids mom.

Before kids that was easy. I have never been a crazy party animal or anything, but I knew how to let go of the day. Go out with friends and just be Kelli. Even after C and B came along I’d still go out and have a good time. Be Kelli and not Mom or Wife.

Somewhere along the lines though, I kinda forgot about myself and my time. Somewhere everyone else’s needs became priority. Not to be mistaken for “more important”. Simply, just being Mom and Wife became more of my personality.

Making sure I’m keeping up with C, and that B doesn’t feel left out, and D gets her time, all while G knows I’m there for her too, and A, well he’s happy as long as he’s with me. Not to mention Hubby and I need time to touch base in a kid free zone. Those things became more of who I am.

Sure, I’ve always known that if I take time to myself they will still know I love them and I’m there for them. It’s just something that got lost in the day-to-day shuffle. The mix of C having a teenage crisis, B needs a ride to a friends, does D have a lunch or does she need money?, Oh wait! where are G’s shoes? -because she hates wearing them so finding them before we go anywhere is important.- Who’s got A? Does he need clothes, a diaper, shoes, food? Hubby are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?

Maybe Finding a spare minute now kind of feels like I’m finding me again. Learning that outside of the Mom and Wife hats there’s still “Just Kelli” in this mix and that’s a good thing.

I did a thing! I am absolutely ON FIRE! I rocked it out like nobody’s business! Okay, okay, okay. Maybe it seems a little bit over the top. All I did today was four loads of laundry, dishes, cleaned my appliances, vacuumed the whole house, cleaned all of the bathrooms, went and donated plasma, also picked up my sons prescription and showered.

I know what you’re thinking. Who cares? I just so happen to have an answer for you. I do. I care. So you know what? I’m patting myself on my back. No one else will. As a woman, in her thirties, I grew up being trained.

Being trained to take care of every person, take care of the house, take care of the animals, take care of the appointments. Take care, take care, take care. Let’s not forget, that now I also have a job and it’s still there. All the things that need care. All the little voices saying “Don’t forget to pull the roast out for dinner.” “Don’t forget to take Seven to see the eye Dr. on Thursday.” “Don’t forget that fourteen has a book she needs you to pick up from the library on Friday.” As though my children are in my head. “Look at me” “pay attention to me”.

When my children do chores they demand payment. Who does that? Did I get paid as a child? Sure, in room and board. Do they pay me? Sadly, no, they don’t. Luckily they accept all forms of payment. Cash, card, check, and Sugar. You’d be surprised how quickly things get done when I have baked goods.

When Boyfriend does a thing, he throws his arms up as if he just took home the gold medal for loading the dishwasher. He says “I did a thing!”. Then turns around and waits for a simple courtesy such as “Thank you babe” or “Good Job! I really appreciate that”. It’s okay to laugh. He’s the one that pointed it out.

I don’t get the gold stars. No cookies for me. I’m lucky to get a hug for running in circles for my family. “The Life of Mom” is what I call it. I don’t do these things because I enjoy them, I do them because they need to be done. It’s hard working and watching things slip, but no one wants to come home and do it all. So I happily do these things for my family.

It’s okay mama. You did a thing! Even if it’s one thing and not all of the things. I am proud of you. I want to take the time to thank you for doing those dishes. Thank you for vacuuming. Thank you for running those errands. If I could give you a cookie or a gold star, I absolutely would.

Thank you for being you!

I’m a craft-type mom. I enjoy decorating my house for almost every holiday by taking my best friends kids for a little while and crafting with them. Last year, my house was Halloween ready in just under 3 hours. I had feet of Corn, Popsicle stick Scarecrows, Cut out ghosts with cotton balls glued on, finger-painted Indian Corn, and my personal favorite, painted monster candle holders. The little’s had a great time and the big’s patiently helped them, while anticipating the spider webs and the Mummy door they would later be doing.

Our children are getting older and I have noticed that a lot of the crafts we do are seemingly dull to them. Their feet are too big for “Feet of Corn”, the ghosts made from glue and cotton balls are too easy, and the Popsicle stick scarecrow’s only carry enough weight to be fun one or two times. This means that my craft nights are becoming DIY nights. That is a lot of pressure for this mom.

Now it’s Scarecrow/Snowman made out of Pallets, Turning my front door into a monster, and using Pinterest to find a Fun idea about wreathes or homemade-decorations. It’s hard for me to keep up with all of these new ideas. Lets face it, I am in fact a creative person. I can turn wooden letters into super-hero logos, I can turn crayons into wreathes, and when it comes to Fuse Beads I am a Queen. Yet, as our children get older, I find myself completely at a loss of talent. Have you ever seen that show Nailed It! ? I feel like a contestant on that show every single time my children choose a new fancy craft.

This year, Fourteen-year-old wants to make a pallet decoration. I’m positive that she and I can make it together but I wonder if I will be able to accommodate the time needed for such a project. Seven-year-old wants to make, I directly quote, “Scary Epic Ghosts that float around the house!” Can you picture the face I am making over that idea? I bet you can, it’s probably the same face you’re making. Nine-year-old is pretty easy to work with. He just shows up to the party ready to have fun, and that is okay.

I know I am the crafty mom. I know that my family sometimes grumbles at me because I have another craft I want to do. It’s perfectly okay that some times I voluntell them into doing crafts with me. To me, this is quality time, time we spend together doing messy things, creating memories, and loving each other. I feel blessed because Fourteen-year-old wants to spend time with me, Nine-year-old simply enjoys making messes, and Seven-year-old is as creative as it gets. Even my partner will semi-willingly participate because deep down he knows how important these memories will be.

This year, I have a feeling that our crafts are going to be more extravagant, more time-consuming, and even messier. I’m okay with it. Do you know what I say? I say “Bring on the memories!”.  I am going to make that weird scarecrow pallet decoration with Fourteen-year-old , those “Scary-Epic Floating Ghosts” for Seven-year-old,  and I will find a DIY wreath that my family and I can make together. It’s a great time for us. It speaks about the kind of family we are. Fun-loving. I hope that you and your family have a thing too.

 

Here’s hoping for the best.

Fifteen. . .That’s how old my second oldest child is today and it doesn’t seem like it’s been that long. Even with three more kids behind her, it feels like she should still be in elementary school. Not eighth grade.

Yes for those of y’all doing the math, she’s in eighth grade. Again. It seems to be a stumbling block that her and her older sister both hit. She moved states, then we moved from place to place and then she switched schools -twice-. This last year has been rough on her. I’m not trying to make excuses for her. As her mom, as a mom, I try to figure out where things could have been better if maybe one thing would have been different

The cards dealt were definitely not in her favor.  I have asked myself multiple times, as her mother, “What could I do to help her?” “How could I have made things go differently for her?”  But she was fourteen, and it wasn’t about me. Truth is, this isn’t on me. And no amount of could’ve, should’ve, would’ve will change that she dropped the ball.

I let her know that I was there to offer any and all of the support that I could. All she needed to do was ask. I let her know that school and passing grades are her responsibility and  if there is anything I could do, I would go to bat for her.

I try to teach my kids to advocate for themselves, but to also know that they can come to me and that I will always advocate for them. I can only do so much though. As they get older and start venturing out and away I want them to be able to stand up for themselves no matter what the situation. Yet, I struggle with my own feelings of protectiveness

as their mother. I’m not a control freak or anything, well maybe a little, but wanting to do it “right” and wanting them to be able to do it on their own is a struggle.

So this year, she’s doing eighth grade again. Home-school. It’s online public home-school. It’s basically the same as regular school. She has a bit more freedom on when and how her lessons get done. She has to be more responsible for herself and her school work. I check in with her everyday. Making sure she’s not struggling, and if she is, ask her what she needs to do to fix it.  Secretly though, I also check in with the school to make sure she is where she says she is. Actually, it’s not a secret. If I see her grades are dipping, you bet she’s hearing about it and we’re figuring out what she needs to do to correct it.

At fifteen I don’t expect her to be perfect. No one is ,no matter what their age. However, I do expect her to be learning  that she’s getting older and more things in her life fall to her to take care of.  Less and less of them fall to me, even though I’ll always be there for her no matter what’s going on.

I’m that Sports Mom. My oldest is a Volleyball player and a Soccer Player. My youngest is very much so into Football, Flag football for right now. My nine-year-old isn’t old enough for sports in his Charter School but I can guarantee that as soon as he starts Fifth grade next year. The first thing he will sign up for is going to be Track. I have been blessed with active children. Always running around and practicing whatever sport they are feeling at that moment. That being said, I would like to take a minute to get very real about what being a Sports mom is like.

Fourteen-year-old has practices every day, Monday through Friday. She has games on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Seven-year-old has Football practices every Thursday and games on Monday nights and Sundays. Nine-year-old doesn’t have a sports schedule yet, but we are a Football family so we have standing plans every Sunday. Every Sunday during Football Season we go to a close friends home and watch Football which, naturally, he is a huge fan of.

I will be the first person to admit, I do not know a lot about sports. However, it’s amazing how quickly you learn about the sport that your child is playing. For example, until the beginning of Volleyball season at school, the only thing I knew about the sport was that there are two teams and two rounds unless, of course,  there is a tie breaker round. Now I am fully aware of the zones and positions which are played, the rules for serving,  and that communication is key when you have a group of girls all running to the center to hit the ball. At the beginning of Flag football, I was under the impression that it is exactly the same as Tackle Football. Wrong, I was incredibly wrong. Flag Football has shorter quarters. The points are different, flags must be a particular length and have their own set of regulations, and children bounce around from position to position.

I fully encourage my children to do their best and try their hardest. “Things not worked for have no value”, I tell them. I’m a sports mom through and through. I may not watch all of the other flag football games in the area, or stay during a tournament and watch the games that my daughter is not playing in. Honestly,  I’m a little bit obnoxious when I do watch my children’s games. I coach them while they play. It has nothing to do with the coaches ability to teach and guide my children through their sporting adventures. It’s a right that I have as their parent. Obviously, I try not to step on toes but it may not come across that way. How are my children going to be the best version of themselves if I can not encourage that? How can I help and support their sports if I can not watch for areas of improvement? How will we know what needs to be brought to their attention if we have no clue what is going on?

If you happen to be at one of my daughters Volleyball games, you will hear me. “Communicate Ladies!”, “Watch your zones!”,  and of course “Use your words! Call it!”. At son’s Flag Football games, it is the same thing. “Arms up! Don’t guard your flags!”, “Go forward, don’t juke as much!” and  then also,”FLAG GUARDING, FLAG GUARDING!”. I also get angry when I feel like the referees aren’t doing the job they are supposed to be doing. I get it that my child’s team doesn’t deserve to win unless they work hard and can prove that they are winners. However, if I see that the ball was clearly out and the referee is giving the point to the team that hit it out, I’m going to say something. I’m going to say something and that is definitely A-Okay. If we are at son’s Football game and the referee doesn’t call flag guarding, you bet-your-bippy I’m going to call out to him. Now, I don’t want you to blindly think that I just call the referee out when it suits my child’s team. I make the call whenever I see it. I don’t want my children thinking that they can get away with not playing fairly in sports, or life. Playing in sports provides a lot of life lessons for them. Good Sportsmanship, maintaining good grades, hard work and diligence provide great rewards and don’t even get me started on the structure that sports provide for my family.

Sometimes the schedules clash drastically. While this is undesirable, we are prepared.  My partner and I have to divide and conquer. He goes to Volleyball, I go to Football. We send each other pictures and texts about the game that we each are missing. We have a huge calendar that is up on our wall littered with post-it notes about who has a game on which day. We have to plan ahead of time to ensure that we know which one of us is taking which child to what game, what to make for dinner, and sometimes even what time we will all meet back up and where. No matter where we are though, we always celebrate our wins and talk about our losses.

During the school year our house is a crazy zone of sports and learning. We always take the time to encourage our children and support them through their adventures in their respective sports. We also encourage our children to encourage and support their siblings. We make time to attend the events together. Cheer as a family, schedule non-sports related appointments around the sports schedule to make sure we as a family are available to cheer them on. Our life is very hectic and crazy, especially with sports. I wouldn’t have it any other way though. My children are growing up with lessons. Knowing they can not only accomplish their goals, but they are growing up supporting each other while they do accomplish them.  We’re doing it right.

 

 

As I sat there, just watching my seven-year-old play. His occupational therapist was setting up his “Safe Zone”. This week, just the same as last, we are focusing on him being able to wear underwear and sitting on the toilet. Yes, I already know what you’re thinking. I too have had those thoughts. He’s seven-years-old. How does he not wear underwear? If he doesn’t sit on the toilet what does he do? Is he aware that wearing underwear in today’s butt-showing, saggy-pants society is just as important as caffeine for moms all around the word?

Truth is, he has special needs. We have spent the better part of two years catering to his Sensory Processing Disorder, ADHD, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Mentally, he can not handle the sense of feeling while sitting down. His body pushes adrenaline through his system until he spirals out of control into a meltdown that is sure to last for weeks. It sounds like a tough situation and it is. He has a very busy and structured life. School, Occupational Therapy, Talk therapy, Flag Football, Regular check ups with his pediatrician, and of course the goings on of his siblings.

I’m not telling you about my seven-year-old because he wants or needs your pity. I’m telling you so you know mama. You know that you are not in any way alone on this journey. I am right here with you, holding your hand. I celebrate the success with you. I celebrate the days that he willingly puts on a pair of underwear. Knowing full well that he dislikes the feeling of the fabric up against his skin. I celebrate the days that he bathes and the screaming is not loud enough for my neighbors to contact social services. I too, cry at night sometimes after he has gone to bed because he has spiraled into a horrific meltdown that I can not possibly begin to understand or even help him with.

I am every mom who has a child. My fears and worries are the same as yours. I stress out and I worry. I worry that I am failing at giving him the tools that he needs to put his best foot forward. I worry that the schedule that he keeps will only impede in his development and impact him negatively. I also worry that I, as his mother, am only making his situation worse. Is he a happy child if he can’t pick up on social cues? Does he suffer because he can’t have the same amount of screen time as his friends or siblings? No, he does not. I, like you, am doing my best for my son.

You see, his rules are different. His screen time is severely limited. Not because I am that mom, the one who has issues with children watching Television or playing Video Games. Instead, it’s because he becomes a monster. His little system gets overstimulated and he spirals out of control and panics because he has absolutely no idea what is happening. He and I do more hands-on activities. He loves crafts, drawing, math and reading. He enjoys playing outside on his scooter, or borrowing his brothers roller skates. We have family game night. Just because he loves it that much, let me mention that he loves math… again. He can sit, by sit what I really mean is run in circles, for hours working on multiplication and division problems.

For those of you that aren’t aware, life with a child who has special needs is not that different from life with your typical child. For example: My fourteen-year-old comes home and does her homework right away. She argues because we force her to spend time with her brothers. My nine-year-old will come home and do everything in his power to avoid doing homework, including spend time with his family. With my seven-year-old the fight is very similar. We argue that he can not sit at the table and do his division while we eat.

We are not alone. Every time I feel overwhelmed, I think of the army of people who help me everyday. The army of people who my son has standing behind him. Great grandma, Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Second Cousins, Parents, Siblings, Teachers, Therapists, Pediatrician and the list goes on. Every Child needs an army. As parents, we need one too. I am a part of your army.

Take a breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’ve got this. Count your success’. It’s okay if he didn’t sit on the toilet today, he tried and succeeded yesterday. That’s success. It’s okay that he didn’t wear underwear today because he wore it yesterday and underwear is over-rated. That’s success. It’s okay that he is mad at you for not allowing his long division all over your dinner, he loves learning and you should be proud. He doesn’t make eye contact with you and that is okay. He still tells you about his day at school and that is a success.

You, Mom, should not worry. I know that falls on deaf ears. I’m a mom too, and it’s my job to worry. I simply wish that you remember that you are loving, caring, and flexible. You are not alone, I hope that you take the moment you need to re-center yourself and re-evaluate your current position on your parenting choices. To celebrate your wins. I know, I will celebrate them with you.