My name is Rebecca. I have two boys (dirt machines). One is 7 years old, (Paul) and the other 4 years, (Alex). I also have a partner, (Angie), yes the domestic kind. Did I ever think that I'd be sitting here writing a mom blog? NO! Did I ever think I'd be carting around two little dirt mongrels around to soccer, karate, and swim? NO! Did I ever think that at my young age, I would actually FALL IN LOVE with my minivan? ... NO! NO! NO! And to be serious with you (which won't happen often), would I have it any other way? NO! I love my little snot monsters with everything inside of me. Even when Paul comes to me with serious questions like, "Momma, how did you give birth?" and "Mommy, why is your belly so squishy?". I love being a mommy most when Alex says, "Momma, your legs have a lot of holes in them." (cellulite), or when he tells me that I need to put on more makeup.
Introductions are hard. I would usually start off with a good Laffy Taffy joke. Oh, what the hell. "Why did the orange stop in the middle of the road?" "Because it ran out of juice!". Pretty lame, right? I didn't used to be. I used to be a real HOOT to be around.
Let me tell you the REAL reason I've started writing. It relieves ALOT of stress, and because I obviously have the cutest family in the universe and everyone needs to know. I'm THAT mom. The kind I cannot stand. Instead of introducing myself and my family, (BTW, if anyone knows how to turn on the spellcheck, let this girl know), I'll introduce you to my day. You might have a better understanding of why I'm writing. (or crying out for help)
6:00 AM (5:00 AM, if I decide to workout, so let's just call it 6 AM)
7:00 AM. SHIT! Mom slept in.
Yelling from the bottom of the stairs, "BOYS, WAKE UP! MOM SLEPT IN! YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!
A minute and a half later, "I NEED TO HEAR MOVEMENT! PAUL! CLOTHES! NOW!"
Paul - "I hate school! I have nothing to wear! You need to buy me clothes! These jeans suck! I hate long sleeved shirts! I'm sick!" (All in one breath, mind you)
Alex - "Im hungry!"
Someone manages to spill an entire gallon of milk all over the dining room floor, and uses a paper towel (or the cat) to clean it up. I ignore that this happened, and hope that Angie notices when she gets home.
10 minutes before the bus arrives, Paul - "I'm starving!"
Me - "GET ON THAT BUS! I LOVE YOU!"
At this point it's time to head out to the Alex's daycare and then to work.
(We pick our battles when it comes to fashion in our household)
8:45 I show up to work and work (boring) until about 5:00 PM and come home to this:
Paul - "Momma, Allison keeps running away from me when I try to ask her out, so I'm in love with Teresa now. I need new shoes"
Alex - "Momma, I'm hungry!"
Angie - Hides under the kitchen table with a glass of wine for her and one for me.
We start the evening. (I don't have time to tell you about homework, dinner, all the neighbor children that show up, bath time, or bedtime. I'll leave that to your imagination)
If you were able to actually sit through this, I'd like to thank you and apologize at the same time. Maybe you'll learn to like me. Maybe you won't. Either way, share me with your friends, just in case there might be one more Momma out there that understands me and my dirt machines.
-Rebecca and the Dirt Machines.
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