Ice Cream for Breakfast

So no blogs for a week. Great job! You’re off to a great start!

I like how most bloggers blog every day and then take off during the weekend. I’m like - weekend GO!

I also like how it took me at least 10 minutes of my precious morning one kids watching Blue’s Clue’s and one is playing Flappy Bird mommy “alone time” to figure out my gmail/blogger username/password situation.

To be fair, I’m recovering from my husband being out of town for 4 or 5 days last weekend and being in the trenches or art show mania at school.

But it’s pretty much over so I went ahead and linked to Jen’s 7 posts in 7 days thing. Yeah, that should go well. Especially because I’ve got some fun family coming into town Wednesday and my house looks. You know - AWESOME. If by awesome you mean, the carpet is covered with raisins and cheerios and a spilled green smoothie.

I have been thinking about something regarding kids: Do you think all kids have some hot button control issues with important life skills. My older son has always been sleep. From the time he was 2 days old he’d refuse. Battle after battle. I thought all kids were like this.

Until #2 was born. I don’t think I’d give him any big awards for being a super sleeper. But he’d give in easily. No nightly battles or naptime struggles. Eating however, is where he has chosen to exercise his power. Other than any dessert type thing the only things I can count on him to eat are frozen waffles, bacon, raisins and pizza. Recently I’ve gotten him to eat Cheerios and occasionally part of a banana and a clementine orange. So I wasn’t surprised last weekend when he woke up demanding ICE CREAM for breakfast.

He’s 2, so everything is highly dramatic and when he didn’t get ice cream for breakfast (even though we have NEVER HAD ICE CREAM FOR BREAKFAST!) it was a big fit. So I tried “time out” the super nanny way. But since I was solo parenting, continuing to put him back in the corner when he ran out was NOT happening. And I hadn’t finished my coffee yet, I took him up to his room and put him in the pack n play (where he sleeps...long story).

I let some time go by and went back to rescue him. I’d noticed he’d been very quiet, which is strange. He was sitting bare-a**ed with all the blankets, diaper, pants all thrown out. He looked quite pleased. “Woman, if you don’t get me ice cream for breakfast, I WILL take my diaper off in time out.”

Luckily the diaper was dry. But still: butt on the bed. Gross. That’s when I had to make the decision NOT to freak out. Because that’s like basically telling him - oh yeah, that really pisses mom off, you should definitely do it again. But my poker face ain’t winning any awards. So at nap time, same thing happened. He found my Achilles heel.

That night he went to bed wearing a onesie I thankfully found and we haven’t had any of that since. And you know what he demanded for breakfast the next morning? McDonalds!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…..

Intro to Judge

So that was probably a strange blog intro. This will hopefully be better.

That’s kind of scary: A Blog Intro. So official. Eeek.

I’m a Catholic mom and wife of two boys. I’m also a high school teacher. My role as a working mom hasn’t always been a role of gracious acceptance. I haven’t always been good with it. Or even Ok with it. But after much grinding and gnashing of teeth my family and I have found our way with it and I really love my job. I’ve gotten pretty good at my job. And I’ve gotten better at juggling. Or at least I accept juggling and dropping and falling down crying will happen and go with it...usually.

But that’s a post for another time.

I was raised Catholic and have practiced it all my life. I went to the University of Dallas. I met my husband on Catholic Match. Our kids are named ridiculously Catholic-ish names. That’s us. I think all moms feel like they’re doing it on an island a lot of times. And many more wise writers than I have blogged about the internet bringing people together.

I have gleaned much from the internets of mommy bloggers and my adult faith life has been formed to a degree with these real women sharing their lives with me.

Sometimes we all feel a little island like, right? More times than I could count, I wished there were more (or some?!) faith-filled, funny, and excellent working mommy blogger blogs.  Where’s mine? And then I remember, who has time for that? I think I’ll just keep reading everyone else’s. Obviously they’re much smarter and funnier and have better grammar than me.

But I think I’ve been selling myself short. And overly conscious of the judging. No one ever told me that moms that worked were doing it wrong. But somewhere along the way I got that in my head. And sometimes those things in your head just hard to delete. Or maybe I just have a hard head.

But it’s the weekend. And the kids are in bed. I’m surviving a weekend of my husband away on business. And I want to catch up on some House of Cards with a glass of wine. So judge away or look away. Blog #2 in the bag.

Because of Edel

When you’ve been reading blogs pretty much since their invention, starting one is a little dautnting. Before the book of facs and instant grams and when tweets came from birds, I was reading.

I was reading Jen before she was Catholic, when it was something about Et Tu? I read Deb before I had any idea she was a cook - when she seemed like a real life Sex in the City character to my single southern girlness. I’ve wanted to win a trip to Ree’s lodge for years. I’ve been lurking around the internet with the best of them.

So starting one myself. Putting it out there. Doing the time. Writing the words. Well, it just seems like everyone says things. A lot of things. So what does the internet need one more of MY bloggerishness? Probably not. But then I signed up Edel Gathering.

Like I said, I’ve been following Jen for probably 7 or 8 years. So when she and Hallie announced they were putting together this Catholicish Mommyish event, I almost peed myself.

And my sweet husband, knowing how much these people are a part of my life, said OK. I woke up the morning of February 12th with an angry toddler and a fighting first grader. I  had slept through both my two, get-your-lazy-butt-to-the-gym-alarms. I scratched my husband’s truck as I backed out to head to work. I drove into the parking lot thinking, “Oh well. All my people will be in Austin this summer. And I’ll be just up the road in Dallas. I’ll survive.”

But it worked out. I got a precious ticket. Yeah!

It occurred to me as the days went on - as I texted my sisters and called my mom - hmmmm...I’m going to this. And the introverted part of me started to worry. I just signed up and paid good money to go to a weekend long party with people that I don’t actually KNOW.

Ok, I will know a couple. Probably. Dwija and I knew each other in college. We had mutual friends with her and I backpacked through Spain with her sister-in-law. But we didn’t like HANG - unfortunately! And I feel like I know Jen, and Hallie and Grace…and through their blogs, I sort of to a degree, DO. BUT there’s a huge gaping problem: they don’t know me and some of them are borderline CELEBRITY status around the Indigo household here, which could go one of two ways in July.

One: I act like a wild and wacky middle schooler at a boy band concert.

Or two: I try to avoid acting like a middle schooler at a boy band concert and play it too cool and leave sad and regretful.

And since I’ve always wanted to have an blog. I decided this was the time.

Here goes nothing!