Huffington Post Pick-Up

Well this is fun! The Huffington Post published my blog post entitled High Hopes on the front page of their Parent's section. You can read it here on The Kids Made Me Fat, or if you're feeling adventurous, you can wonder on over to the Post and check it out!

www.huffingtonpost.com/parents

Happy Mother's Day.

The day after Hadley was born, there was a moment in the hospital where I allowed myself to imagine her growing older. 

The idea was unbearable, and I started to cry. Suddenly this 6lb baby girl seemed incredibly heavy and holding her was like holding the weight of world in my arms. 

I loved her. Really really loved her.

I loved her so much and I was instantly terrified. I was afraid. 

I feared for her and all of pain that she would inevitably feel -  the pain of name-calling, the pain of being picked last in gym, the pain of a broken heart, the pain of disappointment, and just all the pains of being human. 

I couldn't bear that she would feel any of it. I wanted nothing but joy for her - anything else seemed unacceptable.

Justin took a picture of that moment when I was holding my daughter and crying like a banshee.  When he showed it to me, I said it would never see the light of day - I looked hideous. Well, motherhood is the cure for vanity.

I recently came across that picture on our hard drive and, I wasn't horrified by my puffy face or my streaming tears but felt lucky to have that momemt captured on fim. That was the moment that my heart opened up to love her - my new daughter. That was the moment that she became a piece of me.

Happy Mother's Day. 

There Goes The Neighborhood

Justin and the children examining The Hole.

So, we're building a house. No, I mean we're not building it - can you imagine? Justin and I with hammers and 2x4s? We'd probably beat each other with both before we ever managed to assemble any sort of structure. We struggle to assemble a nightly meal. So I suppose a more accurate statement would be: We're having a house built.

I lovingly, and accurately, refer to it as the hole. As it stands today, it is a hole in the ground....soon it will have walls, a roof, a porch - but today it is a hole which is quite fitting as I feel, perhaps, I am falling into a hole - an uncertain future - perhaps one containing divorce and foreclosure. Or perhaps, this hole will be our happily ever after. But today, it is a just a hole and one that is completely overwhelming me.

Today, after a big budget breaking bomb was dropped in my lap, I  thought seriously about calling the whole thing off. Could they just fill the hole back up? Could I change my mind? I'm really fine where I am...there's a roof over my head - what more could I want?

But I think it's full steam ahead, and with any luck, my mind and budget will stay on track. Framing starts next week.

Today I went to check out the hole and met our future neighbor. Nice guy. Talented guy.

ME: Where do you work?

NEIGHBOR: Oh, I'm a mental health professional. So is my wife.

ME: Oh hot damn! Are you serious? When can I get drunk and come over? I have a few issues.

NEIGHBOR.......Silence. Followed by a worried stare. 

I might have scared him off  - for now -  but I'm super stoked. I've got my own mental health professional right in my backyard - this has got to be a sign that God, does, indeed, provide.

Say I do actually lose it and decide to throw myself in our hole? Well, maybe the neighbor, if he's feeling at all neighborly, can just talk me right off the ledge.

Later, I found out that not only are the new neighbors mental health professionals, but one of them specializes in children.  Hot diggity dog, we have hit the new neighbor lottery!

Its about time I got some professional help raising these kids.

The neighbors will now be my ace-in-the-hole threat.

"Really? Another tantrum? That's it. I'm sending you to the neighbor's. He'll talk some sense into you."

I think I might have to bring this lovely couple a baked good of sorts and welcome myself to their neighborhood. I also think I'll give them a card - signed as follows:

"So nice to meet you and we're so happy that we're going to be neighbors. If you hear any loud screaming - don't concern yourself too much - my kids do that - often.  Speaking of the kids, if one happens to get loose, you can return them or keep them for awhile - whatever works. Hope you're ready, because here comes crazy."

Yours - The Rumbach Family

High Hopes

A lot of scary, awful shit goes down in our mini-van. There's yelling, there's arguing, there are sippy cups being thrown, there's the complaining....Oh, the complaining - it's too hot, too cold, we're never going to get there, my seat belt's too tight, the van smells bad - the list goes on and on. 

In regards to the van smelling bad - yeah, I'd like to complain about that too...I'm not sure what in the world the kids do in there but they're gross and they make my van stink. 

However, every now and then the girls have actual conversations while we're cruising down the road, my favorite among them being "What are you going to be when you grow up?" 

These conversations are so filled with hope and promise my heart nearly bursts. They are going to be dancers and singers and doctors and teachers and fashion designers. There is nothing out of reach. Nothing they can't do. Everything is possible. These are the conversations I try to burn into my memory so when I'm old, feeble and sitting alone in my nursing home, I'll be able to recall their tiny voices - their tiny voices and big dreams. 

Was there ever a time that I felt like this? A time where I felt I could do anything? If such a time existed, I can't remember having it nor can I remember losing it - yet I miss having it - that feeling - that feeling that I could be anything - do anything.

Long gone are the days of my childhood dream where I thought I could be an Olympic gymnast. That dream was crushed by my inability to throw my ass over my head in any sort of graceful way. 

However, the girls childhood dreams are alive and well and on any given day they can be anything. 

Yesterday, however, Cameron grew anxious about her chosen profession as a fashion designer. 

"What if I change my mind," she said. "I wrote I was going to be a fashion designer on my paper at school but is it okay if I change it later?"

I assured her that she could change her mind. I told her that people evolve and their interests change and she could grow and change with them.  I told her that I, myself, was still deciding what I wanted to "be" when I grew up. This blew her little mind.

"But Mommy, you're already sooooo old," she said.

Concerned about my career path, or lack thereof, Hadley offered a suggestion.

"Mom," she said. "I think you should be a waitress. Yes, a waitress. That would be a fun job." 

Cameron said, "Oh Hadley. That is not a good job for Mommy. Mommy could not EVER handle that job."

Well, shit. I get it - being a waitress is damn hard, but she's clearly missed the part of her life where I've waited on her nonstop for 6 years, either that or she really doesn't think I'm very good at it. 

So I'm left wondering, what will I "be?" What is my dream? 

Is it possible I'm living it? I might be. Driving the smelly mini-van down the road listening to the girls dream out loud - yes, this could be it. It's quite possible I've arrived at everything I've ever dreamed of and it smells like baby poop and has automatic sliding doors. Yet, dream big girls. Mommy is counting on a super sweet nursing home.