Ms. Mommy Poppins: Practically Imperfect in Every Way

My 20 month old daughter, Ellie loves shoes. She lives and breathes shoes. She wakes up in the morning saying "Shoes, shoes, shoes," over and over. "Shoes!" And over.  One day last week, just out of pure curiosity, I counted how many times she said the word shoes. 100 times. So I do not exaggerate when I say that she perseverates on shoes.  My precious shoeaholic wants to put them on immediately when she awakes. Tonight she actually went to bed with her light metallic pink Mary Janes on her feet, sans socks, per her request. This tiny demand was even after her bath, mind you, and so we have that out of the way for tomorrow.  Oh, wait. She will want to change into another pair that she comes across in the morning. So, disregard! For those wondering, I tried to sneak them off of her, when she was almost asleep. In her dimly lit room, she grabbed my wrist, and grunted her displeasure. And so I stopped. You win, Ellie, you win.  All shoes are up for grabs with this ...

"Egad! Our house has been ransacked!!"  This is what I want to exclaim, just about every time I walk in the door to our house. As a kid, I watched the movie, Home Alone , more times than I would like to admit. Boys especially seemed to love the painful booby traps that Kevin had cleverly devised for the robbers, Harry and Marv. They are classic slapstick moves, that I'm sure my sons will love to watch one day soon. If I can only find an old VHS tape player... Mother-in-law to the rescue!! :) Similar booby traps have been set in my very own home, though rather unintentionally. As you may have gathered, we now live on an Army post. Marine Corps friends around the world are now throwing up in their mouths- I have been trained to say "post" now, not "base," NOOOOO!!!!! ;) Anyway, while living on a military ... property, I often let my guard down a little more than I probably should. Thankfully, my confidence is reestablished, when I think about the pit...

Living on an Army post, there are a few perks. One being, that you are within walking distance of quite a few choice locations. When I am feeling naively optimistic, I pretend I'm a sherpa and load up two kids in my double jogger and one on my back, and we head to the Burger King for ice-cream cones for a mere 50 cents per cone. Sounds ridiculous, you say. Well, I am just that motivated to save that extra 50 cents per cone. Darn it. Ok, most of the time we just drive, but it paints a much better word picture. ;) Another place where I can practice the gift of being bipedal is the commissary. For those civilians that are not sure what a commissary is, I will inform you. It is a military  grocery store where you don't have to pay a sales tax and you can get some pretty sweet deals. However you do have to  avoid pay day like the plague, and have cash on hand to give the bagger a tip, because you are informed on a very intimidating sign that, "Baggers work for tips." And...

As August is coming to a close, it is a bittersweet time. I love the adventures of the summer, with no agenda, except to make sure my toddler has a nap sometime after lunch. Being the, "Type B" mother that I am, I can easily flex around another mom's schedule. When I get a last minute text to join a friend and her kiddos at the children's museum, I am usually game. As long as we have a double stroller, a few snacks, some wipes and a clean diaper, we are good to go. I can always use my field expediency for other child related "emergencies" such as going to lunch with no bib. Just grab a dirty kid's shirt from the car, that was shoved under the seat, and slap it over the babies head, and I am golden. As a Marine wife, I have learned to overcome and adapt!  My semper gumby ways end tomorrow, when I have to wake up to the sound of my iPhone blurting out some kind of emergency signal that the plant, aka, my bed, is about to self destruct. I recently heard a...

Pour yourself a spot of tea with a spoonful of sugar, and find a cozy chair. Ok, let's be honest- you are reading this on your phone, as the kids cry in the background. And you can't remember the last time that you could sit with your girlfriends, uninterrupted, with a hot drink. Coffee is most likely on a survival only basis. And if you are like me, it's often cold, after serving the children their breakfast, and you finally remember that you are a human too, an hour later.  I usually have a running dialogue in my head, of the funny things that have been going on with my messy, unorganized home and my delightfully busy children. Every day, I am amazed at the way that God somehow teaches me something through it all, after the tears have dried (mine that is), and they are snuggled in their beds. Or in my bed. Or the guest bed. Or whatever bed agreed upon that caused the least amount of crying (this time, said child). I have thought, "Oh, you should be writing this...