It's my party and I'll overshare if I want to!

Hosting your own party sucks.  Mother's Day is a perfect example.  I'm a mother but also a daughter, sister and granddaughter. Every May finds me battling with myself over whether or not I should offer to host.  Yes, I realize how selfish this sounds.  I should be counting my blessings, grateful that I have not one but TWO 95 year old grandmothers, my own mother and two sisters in law with whom I can share this special holiday. But the idea of spending Mother's Day morning cleaning my house from top to bottom (even though not one person is going to enter my Master Bedroom closet) screaming at my children to stop playing with, touching or even looking at anything I recently put away, as well as organizing food for approximately 20 people does not sound the least bit Mother's Day'ish.  So, like any true youngest child or middle school student in math class, I avoid making eye contact with anyone in the room and play a little game called "If I can't see them, they can't see me" when the yearly discussion arises.

Could I be a bigger jerk?

I may be a jerk, but I'm a wise jerk because I have not hosted Mother's Day in many many years.

And I'm pleased to say the avoidance tactics continue to work with other holidays as well.  You see, today is...

MY BLOGGY BIRTHDAY!!!

Today I'm 4!!

 

Even Caillou is taking a break from his incessant whining and

futile attempts at hair growth to celebrate with me!

It's my birthday and just like Mother's Day I'm not hosting my party! 

For my bloggy birthday, I'm over at WhenCrazyMeetsExhaustion to do a bit of oversharing!

So head over here now to join the party-I'm-not-hosting!

And just so you have an idea of what you're in for, here's a sample...

"There have been a handful of times in my life when I've heard the phrase, 'Put your knees back by your ears...'"

Sounds like your kind of party, right?

Before I go, I'd like to say a HUGE thank you to those of you who have muddled through the silly and patiently read the overly emotional over the last 4 years. This blog began at midnight on a Thursday as a way for me to feel more normal on this journey of parenting and growing up.  Over time, though, many of you shared that by reading you began to feel more normal as well.  My hope is that over the next however many years we continue to find comfort and camaraderie in this pursuit of normal.

It's been a wild ride, these last 4 years.  Thank you

That's just my normal. 

       

Secret Subject Swap

Welcome to Take Two of May's Secret Subject Swap.  This week 11 brave bloggers created a secret subject for someone else  and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style.  Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

Here are the links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup o' somethin' and check them all out.

Baking In A Tornado
The Insomniac's Dream
Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
The Momisodes
Searching for Sanity
Black Sheep Mom
Moore Organized Mayhem
Daily Dose of Damn
Tiny Steps Mommy
Mom Rants and Comfy Pants

I'm pretty much a one trick pony over here.  Challenges like these are exactly that- challenging.  Narrating my own life with hints of sarcasm and some amateur shots take with my iPhone isn't very difficult.  However, give me an assigned topic, a word limit and, heaven forbid, a due date and all creativity and witty banter vacate the premises.  It took no less than 3 emails from the fabulous Karen over at Baking In A Tornado to convince me to participate.  So... here goes my first attempt at a Secret Subject Swap.

I think it was Divine Intervention I was assigned the topic submitted by my bloggy BFF Penny over at Mom Rants and Comfy Pants. Here's the humdinger I was given:

"The person I'd like to switch places with for 24 hours is _____________ and here's why."

Truthfully, I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to be for 24 hours. See? I told you I was bad with boundaries.  But since there are no "official rules" for this,  I decided to change it up a bit.

So instead of ONE PERSON I'd like to be for 24 hours, I give you SOME of the PEOPLE  I would like to be in a 24 hour time period.

8:00 a.m. EST I would like to wake up in Miami as Kim Kardashian.  Now before you beat me over the head for having such sad sad dreams, hear me out.  There is one and only one reason I want to be KimK: For once in my adult life, I'd like to wake up with a big butt and be famous for it rather than mortified.  OK wait,  there's another reason. I'd like to wake up with my famous fanny and stuff it into designer clothes that were perfectly tailored to fit so I had no idea that my buns were actually not normal and that pants don't "just fit" without some poor seamstress spending hours adding fabric to the rear.

8:17 a.m. EST I'm done being KimK because her family is cray-cray and about to wake up at any moment.  Oh, and she's pregnant with Kanye's baby. Who in their right mind wants to jump on board that crazy train?

12:00 p.m. EST After squeezing my ghetto booty into some white jeans that fit right off the rack *cough cough* and donning my gargantuan sunglasses that I say will hide my face but will really just draw attention to my self-centered being and gathering up my ridiculous entourage, I will hope on a plane (1st class of course, possibly to seats for the booty and baby belly) and head to Washing D.C. where I will suddenly be... Michelle Obama!

As Mrs. Obama I will ride in a sleek limousine to a hair appointment during which I will get the cutest haircut in the United States, complete with bangs.  These bangs will be so bangin' that all newspapers and news stations will talk about them and how fabulous I am.  Oh, for this outing I will be wearing a sleeveless sheath dress that shows off my toned arms which the media will also spend a ridiculous amount of time discussing in addition to my svelte legs and non-KimK ass.

3:30 p.m. EST Taking my fab do, bone crushing biceps and earpiece wearing secret service with me, I will now head to the airport yet again to travel a bit west. Destination: Nashville, Tennessee.  After a 1 hour and 38 minute flight (thank you travelmath.com) I will land in balmy Nashville and exit my first class seat as... Taylor Swift.  I know, I know, Many people find her bubble gum pop music and bobble-head like personality a close second to nails on a chalkboard.  But let's cut to the chase people, the girl is 22  years old and worth $80 million.  Yes, you read that correctly.  She is worth $80,000,000. That's a lot of zeros.  And she dated Jake Gyllenhaal.  Not too shabby at 22.

5:30 p.m. EST I'm going to toss aside my 10 gallon hat and shit-kickers and head back to the airport because it's time for me to head to The Great White North: Canada. I'd like to catch a hockey game, eh.  But I just don't have the time.  I think it was all that time shimmying into my pants and doing bicep curls that made the day slip past me so quickly.  While in The People's Republic of Canukistan I'm pretty much willing to be anyone.  I have heard the people in Canada are the nicest people ever and I want to find out if that's true.  Oh, and I'd like to leave my front door unlocked because I am confident no one will break in, not because my hands were too full to dig around for my keys in the black hole that is my purse. Oh, and I might grab some prescription drugs because according to all my junk mail Canada is "the place" to buy Viagra.  Who knew?

8:30 p.m. PST Leaving the land of maple syrup is difficult because who doesn't want to live among and be one of the nicest people ever, right? But I'm limited on time so it's time to move on.  Luckily, I've traveled southwest and gained a few hours, arriving in my hometown- San Diego, California.  In my remaining time I would like to be 2 more people.  First, I would like to be my mother.  The idea of loving my kids with the subjective objectivity of a grandmother sounds blissful.  To see their quirks and flaws and gifts and talents with the wisdom of experience and the patience of a grandmother is priceless.  And let's not forget that my mom is one of the wisest women I know.

11:30 p.m. PST The day has come to a close.  I'm tired because unlike Taylor Swift, I'm not 22, I am not a hipster and traveling across North America is tough on this bodacious booty.  It's time to snuggle into my Pottery Barn twin-sized bed that is encased in Avengers sheets, snuggle my blankie that I have affectionately named "My Wife," stick my hand down the front of my boxers and head off to dreamland as... My 6 year old son.

8:00 a.m. PST Oh who are we kidding? I'm me again and there is no way on God's green earth anyone in this house is going to let me sleep 'til 8:00 a.m.  Reality calls.

Well Mom Rants and Comfy Pants, I hope I did ya proud.

At the end of the day, a famous fanny, bangn' bangs, lots of cash and some maple syrup can't beat the life I have. I'm happy to be home and just be ME.
That's just my normal.

Spike and I have come to a mutually beneficial agreement...

I'm not quite sure if I should be flattered that so many of you have inquired about Spike in recent weeks or slightly affronted that you seem to care more about him them me...? But as the title states, Spike and I have come to a mutually beneficial agreement regarding our relationship. Well, he thinks it's beneficial.  I kind of feel like I got the short end of the stick, but he had better legal representation that I did.  So I guess that's to be expected.

I am happy to report there have been no fires, no emotional or psychological meltdowns as a result of trapping oneself in the pantry (Well, for him at least) nor has the toaster been dragged across our home as of late.  I am disappointed to inform you, however, that there have been a number of trash digging and lunch box shredding shenanigans.

That being said, I believe Spike and I have turned a corner.  It has not been an easy road for us.  But I was confident that because we are both intelligent people (well, one of us is anyway) an agreement was not an impossibility. Although he's not nearly as bright as I am - don't tell him that as he's kind of sensitive- I knew that after a lengthy and rational discussion that at times would be infused with some growling and barking we could reach an understanding about how things were going to go around here.  I'm pleased to announce we were successful.

Spike and I have come to an agreement...

Yes, let's discuss the way things are run around here.
I have some input I think you'd find quite valuable.

1.  Spike is not a well-behaved dog.  He is simply well-managed.  If I do my part (close all doors, clean and put away all dirty dishes and remove from the counters any and all food, anything that resembles food, stores food or touched food at any time) Spike will stay out of trouble.

2. Spike will not be left outside alone ever again.  Ever.

Go ahead, leave me alone in the backyard when you go out.
I dare you.

3. Spike can not control his shedding; therefore I can no longer complain about having to vacuum every single day of my life.

4. Everybody poops.  Unfortunately, Spike can not do it in a toilet or a littler box or directly on the pooper scooper.  This means I must clean it up without complaint.  See #3 if there's any confusion.

5. The window seat and couch in the living room belong to Spike. No one else is ever allowed to sit there.  To ensure that no one sits there, Spike has left a 3 inch layer of dog hair on both surfaces.

See this couch? It's mine.
Any questions?
6. Spike will spoon with The Hubs and demand ear rubbing for the first 6 minutes after the lights are turned off.  If I want spooning or rubbing of any kind, I must wait my turn.

Excuse me.  This is my snuggle time.
Wait your turn, please.

7.  Any dishes left in the sink are consider an hors d'ourves and will be treated as such.  Bon appetite!

8. Spike strives to live a healthy lifestyle.  This includes an adequate intake of water.  (Plus, licking all those dishes clean makes a dog thirsty, right?) Therefore he will drink water any time he likes and if there is a 5 foot trail of water from his bowl across the entire kitchen that is just an unpleasant side effect of choosing to live a health conscious lifestyle and I must wipe it up without complaint.

9. Spike loves our family.  He loves our home.  He loves our yard- unless he is left alone in the yard, of course. This love inspires him to pee on every surface of our yard including but not limited to the BBQ (when he's not turning it on and causing fires), the trampoline regardless of whether or not a child is jumping on it, any and all kid toys he can reach and if he's feeling particularly sassy, the patio furniture.

10. Spike's love is not simply shown by marking our yard or cleaning our dishes.  He feels that his love is best appreciated if we think of him at all times.  Hence, the fact that he leaves layers upon layers of his hair on our clothing at all times.  The darker the fabric the better.

In exchange for all the compromising, accepting and clean up I am expected to do, Spike has agree to do the following:
1. Nothing

All in all, I think our agreement is pretty much summed up in one simple phrase:
I am Spike's bitch.
That's just my normal.

Ask me again why I torment you when you're not home.
I dare you.

Dress it up any way you like...
I own you, woman.

I pity the fool who doesn't love his mutha!

I pity the fool who doesn't love his mutha!

The interwebs are full of talk about Mother's Day this week. I hadn't planned on joining in the conversation.  Personally, I find M Day tough to navigate. 

First of all, there are 3 generations of mothers in my family. Both of my grandmothers will be turning 95 in the next few months and live approximately 25 minutes away. My own mother also lives in town.  Toss in two sisters in law and their mothers, sisters and aunts and grandmas  (all living within a 20 mile radius) and that's a lot of mothers to juggle. 

It goes a little something like this: My husband wants to serve me.  I want to serve my mother.  My mother wants to serve her mother and her daughter/daughters in law who in turn want to serve their mothers and grandmothers and aunts and sisters in law.  It's like servant overload!

Then there's a whole 'nother layer I find hard to talk about.  You see, every year The Hubs approaches me in the beginning of May with the following question:
"Babe, what would you like to do for Mother's Day?"

It seems like an innocent question.  And could he be more sweet for wanting to make my day special?  But it really isn't an innocent question because I just can't bring myself to answer honestly.  Know why? Because what kind of gigantic a-hole would I be if admitted that the thing I want for Mother's Day is to not be a mother for just one day? 

Before you tar and feather me. Know this: I love being a Mom.  More importantly, I love being a mom to my awesome kids. They are amazing and funny and make me a better person than I could ever be on my own.  What I mean is that I don't want to do any of the things that go along with being a mom. 

For one day I don't want to think about what anyone is wearing. I don't want to remind them to bring a jacket (then spend 15 minutes trying to find the jacket) or casually suggest shorts because a beenie and snow jacket might be cute but not appropriate on a Spring day in Southern California. I don't want to make anyone a meal.  Better yet, I don't want to think at all about what my kids are eating.  I don't want to think about sugar, or fiber or what they already ate or will eat later. And I certainly don't want to clean it up. I don't want to tell anyone to leave their brother alone or to keep their hands to themselves or to use kind words.  I don't want to make sure teeth have been adequately brushed, faces have been washed, beds have been made, buns have been wiped, toilets have been flushed, backpacks have been put away or whether or not the dog has been fed.  For one day, I want to be responsible for no one.  And if I'm going to be totally and completely honest: I don't even want to be responsible for myself.

And I decided this is the year I'm going to make that happen.  I can actually thank my own mom for that.  She called last week to tell me she and my dad were going to Palm Springs for the weekend. "Everyone is on their own this year."  Hallelujah!!

So here's how it went down in our house:
The Hubs: What do you want to do for Mother's Day?
Me: I would like to make no decisions and manage no one from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to bed.  I don't want to decide what anyone wears, what they eat, where they go.  Not even me.  I want to simply be lead around all day at the mercy of everyone else's decisions.
The Hubs: You got it.

I shared this last night on Facebook and several people said they would not like to spend the day at the mercy of everyone else.  It dawned on me that I needed to make sure I was clear about what I meant.  So The Hubs and revisited the conversation again this morning.

Me: I just want to clarify my request for Mother's Day.
The Hubs: You don't want to think at all.  How much clearer can you be?
Me: I want to make sure you understand that when I say "I want you guys to make all the decisions about how I spend the day," I meant I want all your decisions to be based on what you know about ME. I don't want to spend the day doing what you guys want to do.
The Hubs: Do you really think I'm an idiot?
Me: Of course not! (OK, maybe a little bit.)

At this point, it's out of my hands. Personally, I know The Hubs will knock it out of the park.  You see, his love language is gift giving and the man gives the BEST gifts ever- from my first iPhone to a gift card to a spa for me AND a friend because he knows that an entire day spent alone anywhere is like death to me. Now that's a good man who knows his woman!

So my wish for you on this Mother's Day is that you get exactly what YOU want- whether it's a day riding bikes with your family, burnt toast in bed made by your sweet cherubs, an entire UNINTERRUPTED  day spent snuggled in your bed watching Chick Flicks or a Girl's Day with your BFFs and some margaritas.  Because let's be honest, ladies- we love being moms, but it's pretty great to have one day off;)

HOWEVER! Before you head off to spend your perfect Mother's Day, you MUST visit my fab bloggy friend Mom Rants and Comfy Pants. This kick ass Mom wrote a rap for moms everywhere! And if that wasn't awesome enough... She made a video for it!! So go here NOW! 

I told you to visit Mom Rants and Comfy Pants!

Happy Mother's Day!
That's just my normal.

Ending the day with the same amount of people as we began with... Check!

Since becoming a parent, there have been many nights when I lay in bed and recap my day.  I run through the To Do List I created and mentally check off the things I accomplished.  

On a good day, my mental picture looks like this:

1. Kids to School

2. Laundry: Whites

3. Laundry: Darks

4. Clean kitchen

5. Work

6. Workout

7. Pick up kids

8. Homework

9. Flag Football practice

10. Dinner

11. Blog Post

12. Blog Comment responses

13. Facebook responses

14. Put away laundry

15. Twitter follower responses

16. Make To Do List 

I'm like a chore ninja on those days. 

On a less productive day, my mental picture looks like this...

1. Kept everyone alive

These days used to seem so sad to me.  But I''m no newbie parent any longer.  I now know that by setting the bar embarrassingly low, I am guaranteed success! 

Every parent has to admit there are days that just keeping everyone alive is simply as good as it gets.  Between the kids and the spouse, the chores and the job, the groceries, laundry, cleaning, school events, paperwork, field trips, money collections, sports and activities, and just feeding these small people, it's a wonder we can claim that one small victory!

With that in mind, I believe every parent who has ended the day with the same number of people alive and breathing as they began the day is entitled to an award.  Turns out, I'm not the only who believes this. Karen over at Baking in a Tornado and Kristi of Black Sheep Mom finds this seemingly small yet often hard to achieve accomplishment award-worthy as well.  And so they created... 

And they were kind enough to award me with this awesomeness! 

As the winner I am supposed to write a post that begins with the following:

I didn't kill ____________ today.  (It does not have to be a person.  It can be an appliance, a business, or anything else I choose.)

So here it goes...

Like most parents, I have given my children chores for 4 reasons:

1. Giving them free money at the end of the week ticks me off because based on the amount of work I do to take care of them, they should be handing me cash.  Chores make me feel like they earned some of it.
2. I am less likely to feel as if I should pull a pen from behind my ear and start writing down their orders when they ask me to feed them because they've at least emptied the dishwasher.
3. It's supposed to take some of the burden off of me and make my life easier.
4. It's good for them.  Life lessons blah, blah, blah.

I would say #1, #3, and #4 are reasonable and attainable.  #3 simply makes me laugh and is the basis of this post.  

I didn't kill DS1 today when it took 4 explanations on how to put the trashcans away on trash day. 

We need to be able to get the trash IN the can, honey.
Please make the trashcan face OUT.

Perhaps I wasn't clear.  Let's try again.
We need to put the trash IN the can.
Please have the can face OUT,
not facing the bushes.

Right direction, but as I've said 13 times,
we need to put the freaking trash IN the freaking can, dude!
Can I do that when you place the freaking thing in FRONT of a bunch of freaking stuff!?

You did it! Way to go!
You're going to have to live with me forever, aren't you?

 

Wait, there's more...

I didn't kill DS2  when I sent him upstairs to collect hangers for me to hang their newly washed uniform shirts and he presented me with this...

Hmmmmm....
This is an awful lot of empty hangers.
Something seems suspect.
I should go investigate

 An upon further research, I found this...

Taking the clean clothes off the hangers in order to
bring me empty hangers is actually not helpful.
You're going to have to live with me forever too, aren't you?

I'll leave you with those 2 simple examples of why I deserve the Triumph Trophy today.  Trust me, there are many many many more I could share with you but I'm sure you probably have a lengthy list of your own.

And so, I accept this trophy with gratitude, 2 kids alive and well and tucked away in bed and a margarita in hand. And it is with eager anticipation of hilarious stories that I pass this trophy on to a few good friends: (If they want to participate)

Mom Rants and Comfy Pants

Just Mildly Medicated

Cloudy, With a Chance of Wine

You are all women I respect and keep me laughing.  And, like me, you consider yourselves good parents if everyone is still alive and relatively unscathed when you lay your head down at night.

Started the day as a family of 4. Ended the day as a family of 4.

That's just my normal.

I yell at my kids... and I don't feel bad about it.

 

  

I'm standing here again. Bottom of the stairs, just before 8 p.m. I just want them to brush their teeth.  I don’t think it’s too much to ask. I just want the choppers scrubbed so my last image of them before they fall into a peaceful slumber isn’t a marred by a layer of scrunge coating the teeth I’ve paid an arm and a leg to insure.

I assure you there is no brushing going on upstairs. There’s pushing, giggling and someone farted, yet again.  They have approximately 2.5 seconds of patience left before I’m gonna blow.

“BRUSH YOUR TEETH NOW!!!”

It’s suddenly silent. I can practically hear their eyeballs growing to the size of saucers.  A faint whisper trails downstairs, “She’s mad.” Not surprising, all teeth are sparkling and my little darlings are in bed in less time than it took me to pick up the trail of socks and shoes lining the stairs.

As I load the dishwasher later that night, I wait for it to begin- the feeling of guilt that begins as a whisper, finally settling as a knot in my stomach.  But, the feeling never comes.  There’s no guilt or regret.  No “shouldas” or “couldas”. I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for one reason: they deserved it.

They deserve it?  Trust me, that’s not what the experts would say. In fact, in all my reading I’ve never discovered the book titled, Sometimes Your Kid is Simply Going to Be a Jerk.  That would free many parents from the burden of guilt we feel when our kids misbehave and we don’t react with patience and love. We convince ourselves that every problem has a solution and if we are “good parents” we should be able to find it. We tell ourselves, I’m inconsistent with my follow-through.  I’m not giving them enough attention. I have not been clear about expected behavior. 

Parents talk about “natural consequences.” If he leaves his toys lying around, take them away for a specified amount of time.  If she talks back or use unkind words, use soap in her mouth.  If he doesn’t play nicely with his sibling, place them in time out. These are all natural consequences that we embrace because they are logical cause-and-effect outcomes.  However, we are overlooking one natural consequence: anger.  It may not look pretty, but sometimes the most natural and logical reaction to my child’s behavior is anger.

From the moment our children are able to point their chubby fingers at the smiley face picture when we say, “Happy,” they begin to understand human emotions.  It is our duty to help them learn about all emotions- not just the ones that feel good.  When they enter the real world they will encounter anger; and it will not always be packaged in a calm discussion.  If they fail to complete a task at work, their boss is going to be angry.  When they disappoint a spouse, he or she will be angry.

I asked my kids how they feel when I get angry and yell at them.  They both told me they felt “bad.” My nine-year-old elaborated, “I feel bad. I know you yelled because I kept doing something you asked me not to do.  You don’t usually yell for no reason.  You’ve usually asked me a bunch of times.” So I continued on, “When I yell at you, do you feel like I don’t love you or that I will always be mad at you?”

My 6-year-old answered, “No, Mom. I always know you love me, and I know you don’t stay mad. You always come back in my room to talk to me and I get to say sorry.”

The most telling moment for me was when my nine-year-old said, “I know you still love me mom. You let me say sorry and try again. If you think you yelled and shouldn’t have, you always say sorry, too.  I like that I can forgive you for doing something wrong, just like you forgive me.”

There are times I am justified in my anger because it is the natural consequence of my child’s behavior. However, when the anger fades and the yelling is over, the bond between us is not broken.  It is in those moments they learn that Mom is angry, but still loves; she yelled, yet she still hugs; and they can seek forgiveness knowing it will always be granted.

I yell at my kids and I don’t feel guilty about it.

That's just my normal.

Milestones that don't make The Baby Book

This calendar was great
because it made documenting stuff easier.
Of course it also made me a total spaz as I wondered
why my kid wasn't doing many of them!
(Never mind the fact that he was only 4 weeks old.)

Childhood milestones are the highlight of early motherhood.  For me they were the proverbial pat on the back and congratulatory "You haven't screwed him up too badly, yet." I patiently waited for that first tooth to break the surface and wreak havoc on sleep patterns and turn my little cherubs into screaming droolers who looked more like zombies than the fruit of my loins. I invested hours in mumbling things like "mamamama" and "dadadada" until they finally burped the sound I was emphatic was my name.  Then came the crawling and the walking and the climbing and anything else that made grocery shopping impossible. Why did I ever push  them to leave the Bumbo? And don't get me started on how many months I worked on teaching them to speak... What was I thinking?







Documenting childhood milestones is a marketing executive's dream. Parents will video, photograph, chart, graph and tattoo anything they consider "new" or "amazing" without sparing a second thought to how much it costs. 



"Sure, you can get the standard photo package that includes an 8X10, two 5X7's and four wallets of Johnny sticking his finger in his mouth.  But do you really want to deny any family member the memory of this developmental milestone? If you pay $3,462 for the 'I'm A Good Parent Package' no one will be left out."

When I was a first time mom I documented all that stuff.  I had a calendar that came with Milestone Stickers such as "Baby Sits Up" and "Baby's First Words" and so on.  It was really convenient and even came with blank stickers that I filled with college scholarship-worthy events such as "rode in a shopping cart for the first time" and "didn't poop in the bath tub." And yes, I'm pretty sure I was even suckered into the "I'm A Good Parent" photo package a time or two.



Cute stickers, right?
But how do you know the first time he "Dances to Music?"
Every wobble looked like some kind of white man's dance.

"Swipes at animals in gym"
It's a good thing my children didn't limit themselves to my expectations.

"Rode in stroller without car seat?"
Really?

"Learns to play with tongue"
Lucky for everyone who knew me, I returned to work soon after this "monumental" event.

As silly as they seem now, these events truly were note-worthy when I was a young mommy (who obviously needed to go back to work.) It's easy for me to make jokes about it today because it's been so long since anything has been Baby's First calendar material.  As much as The Talk was monumental, I don't know if I'd necessarily defile a teddy bear sticker for it to appear on our Milestone Calendar.

At this phase of parenting, I've entered into the "Probably shouldn't be recorded Milestones." These are the things that you aren't prepared for, but cause you to pause and take note of how far you've come in the parenting journey.

10 Milestones That Don't Make The Baby Book

1.  The day you realize you can go pee in a public bathroom and your child can wait outside the stall or even outside the restroom itself, preventing the premature door opening that exposes all your nether regions to anyone washing their hands at the sink.

2. The first time you hear someone else "convince" their child to "just try and go to the bathroom" in order to prevent an accident on the playground and you realize your child is finally old enough to manage his own pee and poop from beginning to end.

3. Your first trip to the Zoo sans stroller and you are suddenly aware of just how freaking heavy that lunch cooler is since you have no handles from which to hang it or under basket to store it and you finally understand why other mothers spend $86 on lunch for their families.

4. The moment your children break into raucous laughter when you ask them to clean up for dinner and that includes "putting their balls away."

5.  The sudden realization that all the sexual innuendos you and The Hubs typically make about meat and sucking and the importance of size no longer go over your son's head.

6. The night your oldest son says to you, "I have pit hairs.  I'm a man!" And you know it's only a matter of days before he walks into your room naked to show any other hairs he has discovered.

7.  The first time you drop one of them off for a sleep over and instead of giving him a hug and a kiss goodbye you know the best thing to do is the "chin nod" and a subtle wink because he's already in the middle of an important TrashPack trade and you don't want to interrupt or embarrass him.

8.  The day your son is more mortified than you are when he barges in while you're hunched over, shaving your legs in the shower.

9.  Your affectionate hug and kiss with the Hubs is not interrupted by tiny arms wrapping around your leg and an equally tiny body trying to wedge its way between you because kissing is now gross and can lead to babies.

10. The first time your son notices boobs... and they are not yours.  "Mom! Why is Katy Perry wearing that dress? Her boobs look enormous! They're like melons.  Not even the cantaloupe kind, but the watermelon kind!" Yet, he doesn't stop staring until the show breaks away for a commercial.

Come on, Katy.  Help a mom out would ya?
As my 95 year old grandma would say, "Put a sweater on!"

These are just a few of the parenting milestones that let you know you've come a long way, Mom and Dad.  They may not be Teddy Bear Sticker and Calendar worthy and they may be the cause of some awkward conversations, but nothing says "You survived the nursing, diapers and first teeth" quite like the onset of puberty.

That's just my normal.