Okayest Mom’s Okayest Wish List

The Okayest Family

The Okayest Family

Okayest Mom is easy to please. I don’t have unrealistic expectations for Mother’s Day, or for any other day. Okayest Mom doesn’t know how to dream big. Therefore, I’m not asking for what I really want (which we all know is sleeping in and a day alone so I can binge-watch Netflix). Nope. Gotta get my head outta the clouds. If anyone asks me what I want for Mother’s Day, I’m gonna give them this Okayest Wish List.

To have a day where someone does not clock me in the jaw with their shoe, fist, head, or monster truck

To eat a meal without showing my partially chewed food while I yell, “Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

Not to hit my head on the van door

Not to step on a Transformer while I leap over the baby gate like a Olympian hurdler

Not only to go to the bathroom with the door closed (duh!), but also to go to the bathroom without anyone outside the bathroom experiencing Grievous Bodily Harm

To put away a little bit of laundry

To be on time to something

Not to get sweaty during the day

Not to experience the Tri-Cry (all children simlul-crying)

To sleep in until 7:00 AM – nothing outrageous like 7:15 AM or anything

To have no one poop (Yeah, you heard me. So what if that’s not healthy? They poop too.dang.much.)

Not to fix a meal ten minutes too late (No matter when I fix it, it’s ten minutes too late.)

To remain seated during most of my meal (I wouldn’t want to get greedy and expect that I would never have to get up…)

Not to allow any of my fears for my children’s well-being to escalate into unreasonable proportions in my mind

Not to get a headache

To see more smiles than tears

There. So reasonable. So okayest. We got this. What’s on your wish list this year, dear readers?

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Mother’s Day is a complicated holiday for many of us, whether because of a loss of a child, or of a mother, or of a dream. While I am infinitely grateful for my hard-to-acquire and super-precious children, I have not forgotten how this holiday used to be one of the hardest days of the year for me. I have not forgotten you! Last year I posted one of my personal favorites, Mother’s Day Can Sometimes Feel Like a Bruise. I hope you like it too.

Mother’s Day Can Sometimes Feel Like a Bruise

Like many of you, my feelings about Mother’s Day are a little complex. Despite the fact that I have those chubby toddler arms (x6) around my neck, there are still “tender feelings – the way a bruise is tender” (to quote a sensitive leader of my church). My heart goes out to all of you for whom this day may feel a bit like a bruise.  My heart goes out to all of you who have lost a mother, or have adopted this year, or have placed a baby for adoption, or have experienced miscarriage, or have lost a full-grown child, or have chosen not to parent, or biology has chosen not to allow you to parent.

I think of my son’s birthmother today, on Mother’s Day. To say that I am thankful for her is an understatement. My heart hurts for her, and my soul is filled with love for her. I wonder if she is thinking of him. I hope she knows I am thinking of her.

Melissa and MomI think of my own mother today, on Mother’s Day. I am completely thankful for and in love with my own mother, who raised me well and taught me everything I know about parenting (well, almost… she didn’t know much about twins). She is a wonderful grandmother to my children. And, during my miscarriages and infertility treatments, she used to skip church with me on Mother’s Day to hike in the woods, so that I wouldn’t cry when they passed out flowers to the mothers in the congregation.

I think of my mother-in-law today, on Mother’s Day. She raised my favorite man. She gave me the gifts of teaching her son to hug perfectly and to listen well and to notice everything. She gives me every Tuesday morning off from motherhood while she plays with her grandbabies. I hope I can offer my future daughters-in-law even a fraction of those gifts.

I’m so lucky to have these women in my life, who have loved us and are still here with us to wrap their arms around us to literally hold us up. I am so lucky to have my three sons here on earth with me, to wrap their fat arms around my neck, to literally hold me down.

And yet, I miss the ones I have lost.

And yet, I think of you, the ones who might be hurting today. I am thinking of you women who, like me, have tender feelings for one reason or another. You are loved! I have not forgotten this wound, which is now just a tender bruise, and I have not forgotten you.

 

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Sorry I posted this *after* Mother’s Day. I am just Okayest, after all.

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Notes:

“While we tend to equate motherhood solely with maternity, in the Lord’s language, the word mother has layers of meaning. Of all the words they could have chosen to define her role and her essence, both God the Father and Adam called Eve “the mother of all living”- and they did so before she ever bore a child.” -Sheri L. Dew, “Are We Not All Mothers?”, LDS General Conference, October 2001

This blog post says it better than I can: http://www.messymiddle.com/2012/05/10/an-open-letter-to-pastors-a-non-mom-speaks-about-mothers-day/

 

 

Passive-Aggressive Fake Letter to The Jerk Who Tried to Run My Van Off the Road

Tired of reading passive-aggressive “letters” to people/things who will never see them on facebook? Me too. However, since I couldn’t exactly engage in road rage with small children in the car, there’s this:

Dear Person Who Tried to Run My Van Full of Children Off the Road,

Yes, I drive a beige minivan. Yes, I look boring on the outside. Yes, it looks like you can push me around because I am trying to merge in a beige boring minivan while you don’t move over. And, then, yes, after not letting me merge, you can slow down and pull up to my side and try to sideswipe me so that I end up in the shoulder. You’re right, you can push me around and I’m not going to do anything about it. I’m not going to tailgate you afterward. I’m not going to give you the finger. I’m not even going to murmur a curse word inside my van.

Not to worry. I may be driving a minivan right now, but the racecar in my garage will eat your little tin can for breakfast. Its 626hp engine will find you in a dark alley and make you cry. Also, the husband who built it will make you cry some more. Did you go down to AutoZone and buy some little stickers and some pretend accents to try to make your car look a little tough? Wow. Good for you. Why don’t you come back when you get some real racing components and we can have a little chat? Did you try to make your car sound a little louder but now it just sounds like someone talking through his nose? Whoops. Why don’t you come back when your car can really clear its throat? Our racecar can set off every car alarm it passes. I hope it doesn’t scare you, poor little thing.

I have FOUR carseats in that minivan. You also had four people in your tin can. They were laughing and having a great time at our expense. I can assure you that none of my passengers felt the same.

Something you better learn, you little whipper-snapper, is that you can’t judge a mom by her minivan. I’m coming for you.

Sincerely, The Mom in the Beige Minivan