It took me hours to come up with the name of this blog. I'm sure you understand because I'm sure you put just as much thought into things like this.
It shouldn't really matter, though, right? Because a good blog is a good blog and a bad blog is a bad blog, no matter what it's called. You know- "A rose by any other name..." and so on. Unfortunately, I suffer from a severe phobia of mediocrity. No, really. It's a disservice. My teenage years were spent in painstaking efforts to be a nonconformist, and now, I worry about things that I know no one can be perfect in. Domesticity, education and intelligence (which, contrary to popular belief, are actually two different things.) and motherhood for example. Mostly motherhood, in fact.
The thought about this blog came to me when I realized that Motherhood really should be a sitcom. Throughout my life, I have been fairly intense. I once thought myself bohemian and behaved accordingly. Perhaps I still am. But I write less. And I should write more. As a mother, the day to day happenings really tend to just fade together. I have 3 children now. Two are in Preschool, and the other is an accident prone disaster area. If the Atom Bomb still existed, she'd probably magnetically attract it. We're hoping to have another child soon, and I have asked myself on more than one occasion: "Why, in the world do I want another one?"
The simple answer is: It's just what I do. I am a mom. Furthermore, I am a Stay-at-home-mom (Affectionately called SAHM by message boarders- a hobby I would not recommend picking up unless you feel you need a daily dose of abuse from people who don't know you but think they do, and thus feel that they need to tell YOU what's going on in YOUR life, and what to do about it. Yeah. been there, done that.)
I have read so many blogs and message board topics about how much moms miss working, and about the things they do to help kill the monotony and to 'survive' the SAHM years while still feeling fulfilled. Honestly, I have absolutely ZERO desire to EVER go back to work. There isn't any less monotony in a working mom's life than there is in a SAHM's life. And a SAHM's monotony certainly isn't any worse. I've never been a working mom, but I have done my share of time on the job, and I can't really see where everyone gets their "fulfilment" from. I can't imagine not being the one to do all the things I do with my kids. How is that not fulfilling. (Exhausting and terrifying in some cases, sure...) I most assuredly do not need the drama, confrontation and competition of working with other people, or especially, customers.
Okay. I actually have to take it back. I said that I don't EVER want to go back to work. In all reality, I would really like to go back to school and become and ultrasound technician. I would really love to work for an OB/GYN, and look at all those babies on the monitor. Boys and girls, twins. Heartbeats. Big ol' noggins. All of it. But it all stems from my love of children. They're my weakness. This life is all I've ever wanted.
For one thing, children (mine in particular) are hilarious. On a daily basis, I wonder what in the world is going on in their blessed, feather haired heads. What exactly were they picturing when they said that? What is their interpretation? Unfortunately, I find myself being infinately too uptight. Too not-fun, and too worried about the mess 'it' will make. (you know, like, 'You are less than 3 feet tall! How in the world did you get that ALL OVER THE VAULTED CEILING?!" kind of 'it' ) I need a better sense of humor. And how better to recognize the commedians that are in front of me every moment of the day but to write about it? SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT A LONG TIME AGO!
Earlier this evening, my husband and I were cracking up over this. I was sitting here, staring at my screen with my blog just about set up, poking my hubby for some kind of inspiration in the name-my-blog area. It should have been easy enough. What was something particularly smashing that one of them had said?
What had us rolling was the volcano incident.
I remember exactly how it started. My husband and I were deep into a conversation about Mt. Vesuvius. Yes. How Indiana Jones of us.
My oldest daughter, Lilly, was listening from not too far away. Now, this girl is one of the most observant children I know. She has a stellar memory and she's not one to take any crap from anyone else. She's a tough cookie. Of course she asked what a volcano was.
Being the assuming mother that I am, I thought I saw a teaching oportunity and rushed, with my husband and all 3 of my spawn in tow, to the computer, where I looked up "volcano eruptions" on youtube. I should have known that not only would this cause an endless obsession with volcanos and hot orange lava, but it would instill a deep seated fear of the things.
For the last year, I have had to endure daily (sometimes more than just daily) conversations that went somewhat like this:
Lilly: Mommy, let's talk about volcanos.
Me: Okay, Lilly- what is in the earth?
Lilly: A CORE!! (all answers are shouted as though it's the most exciting thing ever.)
Me: and what is the core made of?
Lilly: Molten rock!!!
Me: Which is?
Lilly: Hot lava!!!
Me: and when there is enough pressure, what does it do?
Lilly: A volcano erupts!!!!
Lilly: Hot lava flows down the mountain and makes new land so things can grow on it!!!
Mom...are there volcanos in Utah?
Me: No. There are some in Hawaii, which is really far away. You have to take a plane or boat to get there. (I have even shown her on a map. P.S. We don't need to tell her that there are volcanos in Yellow Stone, which is most likely too close for her comfort.)
Her fear of volcanos never followed her to bed or anything, but she has told me several times that she never wants to go to Hawaii. One such day, I was looking at some pictures from a couple of good friends of mine who were recently married. Lilly was sitting on my lap and oohing and ahhing. When she finally asked where they were, and I answered that they were in Hawaii on their honeymoon, she got wide eyed and tears welled up. "I don't ever want to get married!"
I think I actually laughed out lout at her statement. It was easy enough to explain that she could go somewhere else on her honeymoon. But she always throws it in there now; "when I go on my honeymoon- not to Hawaii-.....'
As you can imagine, though, volcanos are like a trainwreck to Lilly. They scare her. Horrify her even. But she just can't leave it alone.
Once, many months after our initial conversation about volcanos, my husband and I were sitting on the stairs talking about something. In this case, the something is unimportant. Lilly, being impatient, couldn't wait any longer to tell us what was on her mind, and, very much like a child her age, butted into our conversation. Again, being the assuming mother I am, I saw oportunity for a teaching moment. I told Lilly that she was interrupting and that she really needed to wait until we were done talking, and then we would be thrilled to hear what she had to say.
There was a long pause.....
My daughter's bottom lip stuck itself waaaaaay out.....
Her big brown eyes welled with tears.....
And she shouted "I am NOT a VOLCANO!"
Of course the rauckus laughter that followed simply confused her more. On one side, I tried to explain the difference between "erupt" and "interrupt" and on the other, her father- always ready with an object lesson or parble- tried to tell her that she was, in fact, acting like a volcano by erupting into our conversation without warning.
Of course, though I don't scrapbook, I immediately scribbled the event into her baby book. I'm good at those. I'm good at writing things down. I am simply more eloquent when I write than when I speak. And I'm more entertaining.
To some degree, I hope that's what I can accomplish here: An outlet for me. Entertainment for you.
Friends, I promise to always try to laugh.