Ms. Mommy Poppins: Practically Imperfect in Every Way

As I hurriedly dropped off my three year old at preschool the other day, I noticed that I must have missed a virtual memo. (Hey, what's new?) Living in South Carolina, there is naturally a high concentration of USC fans. I'm referring to the University of South Carolina, not the University of Southern California, for any west coast gals who may have been a bit confused.  Ok, so, as I passed the precious children making their way to their classrooms, I saw their adorable smocked dresses, rompers, and cheerleading outfits adorned with the gamecocks logo, USC, or anything with maroon, black, and white.  Hey, I didn't even know it was game day. And honestly, I didn't mind not knowing.  My lack of team spirit for our local college, made me start thinking. (Of course, what else would I do?) I am not from around these parts, nor am I ever. Or so it seems...  Here are a couple instant replays from my formative years for you:  In sixth grade, I was not in the pop...

I have always been on the more naive, or rather gullible side of life. When boys would tell me that the word gullible was written on the ceiling, I would say, "Really?" and look up, about every time. Maybe I was too trusting, and thought the best of people. Or, so I like to tell myself. And no, I am not a blonde. Does that stereotype still exist? That must be haircolorism or some politically correct term... In the same regard as my gullibility, as a young girl, I was always a simple optimist.  Inquisitive adults would often ask me, "What would you like to be when you grow up, Rachel?" I would quickly and cheerfully reply that I would like to be a mother. It's true. I think I even have some documents written in crayon to prove it.  I know, it wasn't a very creative answer, but it was my answer. I loved playing with other kids. Who doesn't at that age? It appeared to me like a pretty fun job, getting to rock babies to sleep, kiss boo boos, and drink D...

Forgive me, friends. It has been 13 days since my last confession, I mean, blog post.  Some days… Okay most days, I am about five minutes late. Or ten....Or just running behind in general. To church,   to school, to soccer practice, to life.   Unfortunately, when I am even more behind the eight ball than usual, I have been up to 30 minutes late. Gasp. I know.  Yesterday was one of those days where it seemed like nothing was coming together. I needed to get a TB test for future employment (yes, I feel so grown up!), and so I went to the hospital (or "to hospital" if you live on the other side of the pond) on our military base. I held my head high as I smartly grabbed a ticket at the pharmacy. Surely I would have plenty of time to make it back before they called my number so I could fill a few prescriptions. I had been putting this task off for a few months now. Oh they were just refills, pish posh. When I went to the sixth floor I soon found out that the TB tes...

Sometimes I think I have more conversations with myself than I do with other people throughout the day. (Does that make me crazy?!!) On the more frustrating days, I have a constant diatribe of arguments in my own mind on what I should have done better. Here are some random samplings from my own brain housing unit: You can't seem to get your preschoolers to school on time? Really? How hard can that be? Other moms seem to do it just fine, and they have more kids than you do. What's your excuse?  You lost your cell phone again? Seriously? Just put it in the same place everyday, depending upon the room you are in, and this won't be a problem. It's that easy.  Ok, lady, who forgets that it's their kids' show and tell day? Oh, you? That's ridiculous. That's more than ridiculous. It's sad. Quite sad. Are you sure you even love your son? By your forgetfulness, apparently not. Do better. P.S.- Running selected object into class ten minutes after the p...

Let's be honest here. There are many days as a parent where you just want to cry.  What type of tears, do you ask? Is it the happy tears of watching your daughter at her first ballet recital? Aww... But,nope. Is it the tears of joy when you see your son walk across the stage for his highschool graduation? Again, nope. How about the tears that well up in your eyes when your brood of children are playing quietly together and giggling? That is quite the precious moment which I adore, however, that is not the type of tears I am referring to at this time. Is it the kind of tears where it seems that nothing has gone right all day and you feel like you must be the worst mom ever? Well folks, I think we have a winner! Well, you happen to have caught me on one of those days. Surprise, surprise. ;-)  Here are some clips from my highlight reel that you may relate to: 1) I let my preschool son skip his morning of higher education today only to realize later in the afternoon that it was ...

Just another Saturday afternoon at the local children's museum today. You know, the kind where you have a panic attack about three times throughout the funtivities. You start thinking that your child must be abducted, because you can't seem to find the child you claim as your own, amongst sea of colors, flashing before your eyes. (I always try to put my kids in brightly colored clothing to spot them easily, but it seems like other parents must be stealing my memos from iCloud.) It's always a relief when you finally hear a squeal that you recognize in another room, and finally lay eyes on them. Your chest, rises and falls, in a sigh of relief.  Am I the only one who experiences this? We have "only" three. I can't imagine having a greater head count at this stage, but I suppose that the older they get, the more sets of eyes you have to help look out for the little people who like to chase shiny objects in another room. It's difficult to not feel rather cl...