I recently started a trip, and several people have asked me “oh how long are you on vacation?”
No no. When you take five small kids with you it’s not a vacation. It’s just moving the circus from one location to another. 
Category: Story Time
Pictures are deceiving
I have a love/hate relationship with social media. I enjoy keeping up with my friends on the other side of the world. I like seeing pictures of my cousin and her kids who are too far to visit more than once a year. My heart is warmed every time I see a need shared and a community overwhelmingly respond.
See, those are all great things, and I try to remember those when I’m so mad I could spit. Do you remember in “Meet the Mitchell’s” where I said I have a low tolerance for insincerity and dishonesty? Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but a lot of the content people post or share can easily fall into one of those two categories.
For example, the mom who posts a picture looking into the back yard as she watches her kids play, while casually displaying both her lemonade and her perfectly pedicured toes. Whereas, I am sure the picture is accurate from one perspective, but what is not seen are last night’s dinner dishes on the table behind her, or the t-shirt she has on is covered in spit up, crackers, and someone else’s snot, or her unwashed hair, in a messy bun, and dark circles under her eyes. But, if you were just innocently flipping through pictures on your news feed, you would assume that her life is so much more put together than your own.
Another conversation from within the Yukon
“Ok, who put the lizard in my truck?!?”
…Not a sentence I ever wanted to say as I drove down the road. Or ever, for that matter.
It was Duchess who, in her sweet 5-year-old voice, had called to me from the third row, “Mom, there is a dead lizard over here.” The next few minutes were a chaotic bundle of boys trying to strain their necks to see, and those who were too far away begging their sister to describe, in detail, what she saw (based on her descriptions, I determined that whatever it was that she saw was indeed dead).
I interrupted the excitement with a repeat of my question, “WHO PUT A LIZARD IN THE TRUCK???” Silence fell over the voices, and it was unclear if it was because of innocence or a fear of self-incrimination.
Thankfully, we were close to our destination where I was able to investigate for myself. The “dead lizard” was, in fact, two very dead, dried up salamanders in a cup holder next to the third row.
How does that even happen?
As of yet, no one has taken responsibility for the demise of said “lizards.”
The good news is I believe I have found the source of the smell in my truck.
Gray Hair
It is ironic to me that after years of having a highly stressful, fast paced job, that it would be now, while I’m “living a life of luxury” as a Stay At Home Mom, that I start to get gray hair.
Figures.
It’s funny, I thought I would be more upset to find gray hair in the sea of my dishwater blond head, but I wasn’t.
I have been told by friends, who know my family well, that the reason I don’t really dread going gray is because the women in my family do it so beautifully. As my mother and aunts’ have aged, their hair has turned a beautiful shade of white. There is no other way to describe it, there is no gray that’s noticeable, but still hints of the red or blond that it was originally. It is, physically, a very beautiful look.
Things I get to say as a parent
As a parent, you have the unique opportunity to guide a young person through life into adulthood. Teaching them along the way the things they should or should not do. We get to say things like, “don’t eat off the floor” and “ go brush your teeth.” These are of the norm.
But, sometimes you get to form and speak sentences that you just have to stop and giggle over.
Like, here are some of the things I have said in the last week:
“ Please, do not lick the baby.”
“Good job putting on your shoes, but you need two of the same shoe.”
“Yes, you have to wear pants to school.”
“You have to take off the dirty underwear before you put on the clean ones.”
But, so far this week my favorite happen tonight.
“Hey. HEY! Yes you! Turn that off. No leaf blowers in the house.”
I wish I was making some of this up.
Conversations from within the Yukon
You may be wondering why I chose the name Batman for my third son. Well, he does love Batman, and he does likes to pretend to be Batman. But, what really did it for me was when he was about two years old.
One day, I was driving the kids to school, and from the back of the truck I hear Edison call to me:
“Hey Mom, I have decided that when I grow up I want to be an artist, because I love art class.”
I responded with something affirming and encouraging to his dream of being an artist (Now, two years later, he is wavering between an artist and a plumber… can’t make this stuff up, people).
My first born, The General, then announced that he is going to build furniture for a living and started to describe his building procedures and the tools required.
Again, I added something encouraging and affirming about his vocational goals.
Duchess then told us all about how she is going to be a princess when she grows up. Her brothers were not impressed with her choice and proceeded to point out the error of her decision. However, she was not deterred and continued to describe, in detail, the different dresses she will wear.
After five minutes or so of highly animated conversation, the truck fell quiet.
I smiled to myself about how fun it was to hear their dreams, when from behind me, in a slow, deep, husky voice, I heard my two year old say:
“I be Batman.”
Seriously, you can’t make this kind of thing up.
Questions not worth asking.
So, the other day my 3 year old came to me and started begging for a snack. Well, I was in the middle of making dinner so I didn’t want him to have a “real” snack at that moment, but he wouldn’t leave me alone and there was at least one other child screaming, so I gave in and cut him off a chunk of the cheese I was using for dinner and told him to go play.
Two more rounds of Cheerios for the baby later, my hungry little boy comes back to me, and this time with the long hard plastic tube from my vacuum cleaner.
As he hands it to me, he said, “Mama, my cheese stuck in the wacuum, you get it out?”
Now, did I scold the boy for losing his snack?
No.
Did I ask why in the world he was playing with my vacuum?
No.
Did I even pretend this was out of the ordinary?
No.
I just took the tube, and told him to go wash up for dinner.
Some questions just aren’t worth asking.
For Real, It’s Not Magic
A few years ago, I took a class from a woman at our church on how to make bread. It was just a 15 or 20 of us sitting in the back corner of the gym on a Saturday morning, but it really was a turning point for me and my outlook on much of how I run my home.
Janette was in her late 60’s, her family had been member of our church since before anyone could remember. Her and her husband raised 5 sons who were all happily married with children of their own and all living within 30 miles of home. I first meet her early in my college career, she hosted a Sunday lunch after church that was open to anyone. There were usually 3-4 of her son’s and their families, anywhere from 2-20 college kids and anyone else who looked lost and hungry after church. Because of these lunches, which I should point out is one of the only ways I survived college, her cooking skills were known far and wide. Especially her homemade rolls and homemade jelly that was served with every meal.
It. Was. Amazing.
So when I heard that she was teaching how to make those amazing rolls I had to go, even if I never got it right I had to at least try. As we were getting set up a few of the woman were laughingly doubting their potential bread making skills. (I was one of them for sure) She stopped us and said that making bread really was easy, but that for some reason the skill had been elevated to almost celebrity status. She added that lots of woman who know how to do it, want to keep it that way, like they have skill that makes them superior to the rest of us. That they have a domestic magic. It was after that day that I started to wonder if all the mothers around me, who’s lives looks so perfect and put together, were just faking it. Maybe they did not all possess some magic that was out of my reach, maybe it really was just smoke and mirrors.
She is right it really is pretty easy to make your own bread or rolls, I’ll show you sometime.
Because for real, it’s not magic.
Meet the Mitchells
This is us.
I’m really proud of this picture for a few reasons. First is I love all these people with my whole heart. Second, the amount of work it took have this picture taken was intense.
Let me introduce you to the kids first,
“The General”
His name is such because he shares it with two great Generals in American History, AND because he believes he overseas everything about here. I often remind him that he is still a child and does not have the authority to command and issue discipline to his younger siblings. (He is not convinced) His sweet and tender disposition is often over shadowed by his ability to be “all boy” He is fast, loud, active and fearless. (to the point that when he yell’s “hey Mom watch this!” I can feel another hair of mine go grey)
“Edison”
Named because he wants to know how everything works, everything. He asked me questions like “how does a coal factory make power?” and “why is dinner taking so long to cook” and everything in-between. He is my quietest child, content to play alone, but happy to play with others. He is blissfully unaware of social norms, always hungry and can never find his shoes.
A world I don’t understand.
I have 4 sons and I am learning that despite having a brother of my own, and working in a male dominated field for 15 years, I still can be at a loss for words.
The other day, headed into the store, as I’m walking across the parking lot I hear, “Mommy wait a second, my penis is stuck to my leg I gotta fix it!”
What do I do with that?
(I just pretended I didn’t seem him adjust himself in the parking lot)