You can’t please all of the people all of the time, but there are some people you can’t please ANY of the time!!

I coach swimming, and I love my job. Right now I coach a summer league team (short season, only about seven weeks) and I coach for one of the local high schools. I think I am a good coach. I have a lot of experience, I have children of my own and I think the whole mom vibe works well for me, and most of all…I love what I do. I love the water, I love the kids, and I love seeing them excited to learn new things, I love seeing them complete that last lap of a 500 Meter freestyle and the smile of satisfaction that lights up their face.

What I do NOT love is the attitude that some people bring to the (pool) deck. I, and maybe this is naive of me, think that I am hired to do a job, one I take great pride in. Because I am hired to do that job, I would think that the parents trust me to do this job I have been hired for….however, I find out that is not the case EVERY season, and EVERY season I am surprised to find this out! You would think after seven years it would be old hat by now, and nothing would surprise me….but that just isn’t the case. You have the parents of the struggling seven year old…the little boy that is just happy to get across the pool, and mom and dad are wondering why I am not throwing him into every event at the swim meets. You have the parents of the older child, that thinks their child can not do 4 laps in a meet. Nevermind that this child does 50+ laps in practice, in a meet they just can’t do it. And yet, it isn’t nerves, but something else. Well…what is it?! I mean if this child has a physical ailment, I would like to know what it is, so that I don’t overwork them, or if something happens in practice I am prepared for it.

And let’s not forget the “I used to swim, so I know what I am doing” Parent. You used to swim…Great! So, did I, and now I am the one coaching…not you, so please have some faith in me.

I am sure this all sounds naive, that after this many years, and this many seasons, I should be prepared for this, I should expect this. But there is still that little spark inside me that things…this MIGHT be it…this might be the season that ALL the ducks fall into a row…and I kind of figure, when that spark is gone, well, when I lose that spark I think it’s time for me to stop coaching.

You know, there was a time I thought I would be truly offended to be termed a ‘housewife.’  The very word brings to mind pictures of June Cleaver vaccuming in her starched pinafore and pearls, making dinner from scratch and still having time to meet Ward at the door with a neat martini.  But let’s take a look at the reality-I have a beautiful house (pretty big too), four boys that would prefer to just walk around smelling slightly funky (bathing is something people without cable do), three dogs (who do actually smell really funky), a large fishtank (though I couldn’t clean it with the hose my husband has for the life of me), a lizard (probably the cleanest ‘guy’ in the house), and my husband (for the most part a pretty clean and nice smelling kind of guy though.)  Oops!  Let’s not forget me…I like to think I am pretty well groomed (though I admit there are days I carry around my share of funk.)  With all of this on my plate…is it so hard to believe that my house isn’t spotless?  that I don’t always make dinner from scratch?  That occasionally things slip through the cracks?

Now, on days when I am feeling sorry for myself, when I need 27 hours instead of just 24…my husband doesn’t hesitate to point out that this is the life I agreed to.  I signed on for this when I quit my job.  (though for the record…I do coach swimming October-March and June through August, I also help a friend out with her business….)  And I must swallow my pride and admit he is right. When I agreed that I would be the stay at home parent, I took on ALL of this willingly, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be days I won’t ask myself WHY I agreed to take it on!

The other day, Heathcliff (our freakishly large Foxhound) puked on the rug.  I come into my family room to see him getting ready to lick it up (maybe too much information, but I had to share) I yelled, “Heathcliff no!” and he ran off.  So, I run to get stuff to clean it up, our two older boys come downstairs merely to say how gross it is, our youngest runs after the offending dog to remind him what a bad doggie he is, and in the midst of all this, My gorgeous husband comes out of his office, smiles at me, and says, “Way to go housewife!”  And for the first time I can remember the term didn’t grate on me, it just made me smile.

Power isn’t just about who has more money, or who is the most physically imposing, no what I am talking about here is what holds power over us. What is the strongest emotion (feeling) out there? (we could also say situation) I’ll tell ya what it is…it’s fear. Now, don’t laugh (though I know my husband will) but I was watching Oprah the other day, and Melissa Etheridge was on the show (I think it was a repeat from last year). Many of us know she survived a terrifying bout with Breast CAncer, and she said one thing that really surprised her was with all the ‘get well’ cards she got only two people actually verbalized the word “Cancer”. Everyone else just let it hang in the air. She said the fact that many people simply don’t verbalize the word is what gives cancer this stigma in our society. It’s not Cancer it’s “The Big C” or “The C word” (funny, I always thought that meant something else, but that is for another post). By giving in to our fear, be it cancer or something else, we give it tremendous power over us.

Now, that I am happily married, I can sit here and say one of my biggest fears was being alone. Of not ever finding and having that all consuming love, that partnership I feel with my husband, BUT it wasn’t until I got over that fear that I was able to meet my husband head on. It wasn’t until I believed that no matter what the future held for me I would be ok, that I was able to give someone else what I craved myself. Now, I can’t speak for my husband here, but I like to think that I have given him as much as he has given me (Let’s see…I have given him four kids thereby increasing his food bill, income to debt ratio, his pain tolerance AND his patience….come on…who wouldn’t appreciate that!?) And in the end, I have my fear to thank. Getting over my fear, learning to live with it, to hold it dear and ultimately conquer it has given me the life I always dreamed of!

The Never Ending Quest for a Clean Laundry Room!!!

I have four boys, whom I love dearly, but between them, three dogs, two tanks of fish, a gecko, my husband and I the laundry never stops! I swear there are days it actually reproduces and taunts me. It isn’t enough that occasionally the washing machine, or maybe it’s the dryer who knows, eats one sock, but now the washing machine is constantly dumping water into the machine. Is it trying to tell me something? Are our clothes so disgusting that it really needs to dump EXTRA water into it, or does it just like hearing me call for my husband frantically? Is it a conspiracy with the dryer to flood the laundry room, so that I have to use more towels to clean it up, thereby making MORE laundry I need to wash and dry? Mind you, I am not really sitting here in fear, thinking that inanimate objects are conspiring against me, but the alternative is just too painful for me! If it isn’t a conspiracy, then something is wrong with my machine.

Now, I like to think I am a pretty rational person, though I am sure my husband and older boys would say differently, but when it comes to appliance malfunctions, flat tires, or car repairs I am just useless. In the summer, I pray that our air conditioning won’t need repairs as the thought of sweltering in my own house just makes my blood run cold. I get a flat tire and for some reason it becomes my husband’s fault; nevermind that he is 30 miles away. My washing machine starts to act wonky, and I start to fear I am cursed. Nevermind that my husband is a pretty darn handy guy, or that we have a phone book and the money to pay a repairman. Nope, in the end it is just the universe paying me back for not telling the cashier at Walmart that she undercharged me for a bucket of strawberries.

It has been awhile, although, I always say that, make promises to write more, and then forget to do anything for 3 months! Should I bother making another ‘promise?’

Anyways, I have taken two semesters of school as of right now. Both semester’s went very well, although I have to take math now. College Math for dummies I told my husband. He was so sweet; tried to tell me not to worry about it, that it would all come back to me. I was too embarassed to tell him unless it was addition or subtraction, I was pretty clueless. Don’t get me wrong… you want to know what 18% of 45,678 is, I’m your gal… but anything else… I am pretty hopeless.

School is almost over for the three older boys and summer is going to be crazy. Camp for the two older boys, A is suppsoed to go visit his MeMa and Papa in Atlanta, I am trying to convince hubby to go to NYC to visit my sister and her family, AND I agreed to coach for the Country club this summer. That would be swimming, and I got to say, after only one day I am wondering what I got myself into! It isn’t that the kids aren’t sweet, and they certainly try hard enough, but I think I am just used to coaching the high school team, that I forgot how much you have to tone it down for summer league.

Oh well! I’ll cross my fingers and see what happens!

Yes, you read that right…R is cheating on me. His mistress..I don’t know a Dell maybe, no wait It says MultiSync on here…is that a brand? I don’t know…either way, I must compete with the World Wide Web, with coding, and the myriad other things my husband farts around with on his computer. I have had four kids…and while I think I look ok for squeezing four human beings out, I am no computer monitor. I don’t like up with the flick of a button, I don’t magically transform my look with the stroke of a few keys.

If you were here you would hear me sighing in frustration. My husband thinks it is funny, and while for the most part my jealousy of his ‘girlfriend’ is something I can laugh, I must admit that I do gringe with jealousy when we walk into CompUsa. The green eyed monster DOES come out when he tells me of something else he bought for his computer, and I do in my own way try to discourage this, but then again…he doesn’t say a whole lot when I buy a new purse….

Yes, I have four boys. Yep, four boys. I am the proud mother of four boys. Let me tell you a bit about them:

C is my oldest. He will be eleven in about 3 months. Eleven going on 17. I am guessing it is about this age that boys start to ‘discover’ themselves. By that I just mean he turns into your typical preteen and rolls his eyes at just about everything I say. He wants a cell phone, can’t wait to drive and has a girlfriend. We have never met her, he does not call her nor does she call our house, but his brothers fill me in on the dirt. (which basically consists of them eating lunch together) He is a smart boy, almost too smart for his own good. Now if I could just convince him that school is as important as his video games.

J is my nine year old. He is my most thoughtful little one, and his sensitivity speaks to my heart on a daily basis. He is also the pickiest eater I have ever met! There are times when I wonder why I even bother to fix good and healthy meals for the boy. But at the same time he is so thoughtful, organized and he takes school so seriously I know I am doing something right. He is playing soccer this season and I love to see him on the field, playing with his friends.

A just turned six-my wild child. A is the type of little boy that will just grate on your last nerves, and then he will come up to me and hug me, look at me with his big, brown eyes and say, “I love you, mommy.” and all is right with the world. He is in kindergarten this year and is learning to read. I am amazed on a daily basis what his little mind can absorb. A is also playing soccer this season, and I must say I love seeing him excited about something other than cartoons and video games. He is on ‘Team USA’ not exactly “Team Dinosaur’ which was his choice, but he is excited nonetheless.

And H is my baby. Actually he will be one in about 12 days. He is starting to walk, has eight teeth and has the cheesiest laugh in the house. He is my last baby-and it is a bittersweet journey for me. Seeing him grow up and doing all these new things is so exciting, but it is also hard. I will never have one of my babies take their first step or cut their first teeth. I will never again wake up in the middle of the night for 2 am feedings. It just isn’t something my husband understands.

We have been married for almost five and a half years. This December will be our sixth year anniversary. Six wonderful, wild and sometimes hard years, but not once did I ever have doubts about him.

Two things for this entry:

One-You often hear people say, Yeah…I have two kids-three if you count my husband!” Like that is a humorous thing to put out there. Did you marry a minor? And if not, why do you want it known that your opinion of your significant other is that he is. in your mind, a child you must take care of. I was about 26 or so when my mother told me “Praise your husband to your family and friends, and mean it. Even better if he hears you say it.” My husband can be difficult-hell at times he DOES act like one of my kids, but you know what…I am no better. And somehow I just can’t see him telling his friends, “Hey I have five kids-if you count my wife.” So, why as women do we do this to our husbands? People assume it is because I have male children that I am so sensitive to subjects like this…no, that isn’t it. It is because I looked long and hard for a man to marry (yes, this is my second marriage and after the first one ended I swore if I ever married again I would get it right.) and I am not going to belittle him by comparing him to one of our children. No, I am not trying to demean my children, but my children are just that…my CHILDREN. My husband is my husband…he is a man-one I chose to spend my life with, raise my children with and I am not going to insult him by inferring he needs me to sign his reports and wipe his butt.

Two-They say that many women marry their father. In a sense I did-R has all the traits I so admire and hold dear in my father. He is loving, caring, often puts me and the boys before his own needs. And then he has the one trait that always drove me nuts about my father as well-he doesn’t talk. Oh sure, we talk about work, the kids, school, movies, TV, music, news…you get the picture. But if something is bothering him it is like pulling teeth to get him to say anything. Now my husband has told me on more than one occasion he thinks I am an intelligent woman, and yet somehow I am not smart enough to see when something is wrong or bothering him. Now let me clarify that if it is work, or the kids, or the news that is bothering him…no problem, if it is ME that has made the mistake he can’t just come out and say it. Granted, I doubt I make it easy for him-my temper is legendary and my memory is long and accurate, but at the same time I KNOW when something is bothering him, so I don’t get why he just can’t come out and tell me what it is!

today is a….day, how’s that?
You know, today or rather yesterday as I am writing this early Tuesday morning, has been a pretty good day. I was reading an article that says, “You, meaning me of course, choose to be happy or not.” And it struck me, why wouldn’t I be happy? My husband and my boys are all healthy, I am healthy, we have a good marriage, a wonderful home, my husband has a job he likes and is valued at, I am going back to school to pursue my dream, of course I should be happy. So, why do I feel so restless?

I have wondered more than once in the past few months if I am adult ADD or ADHD. Or maybe I am obsessive compulsive, or maybe I just have too much to do and focus to much on that instead of learning to relax and let go. Or maybe, and this is the one I believe my husband would agree with, I am a control freak. I feel that if I am happy everyone around me should be happy, dammit. And if you aren’t, I am going to fix it so that you are and you don’t spoil my good ride. (gee, when you put it like that I sound like a butthole!)

Truthfully, I think I need to learn that I can’t control the feelings of others, just as they can’t control mine (unless I let them) I have a good life, I know it and hopefully my family knows it. I adore my husband and my children and my goal is to focus on MY happiness. Since I live with my husband and children, hopefully they will see me happy and realize that our life together is good, and no matter what they are feeling they can come to me and we will work it out together, or I can simply be a sounding block.

My little ones…but don’t tell them I call them that.
I like to think of them as my little ones, truth be told my oldest is almost as tall as I am and the rest of them will no doubt get there sooner than I would like. My youngest will be one in about ten days, and I find myself wrestling with my feelings of having another child. My husband is adamently against it, though I know should I become pregnant he will love the baby as he loves all the boys. (yes, we are taking precautions) A part of me wants to slap myself silly, as raising four boys, while not hard perse, it certainly isn’t easy, and it most certainly isn’t cheap. But there is a place in my heart that I can not deny exists. A place that watches C struggle with getting ready for middle school, a place that watches J struggle to overcome his picky eating, a place that watches A learn to read, and a place that watches H learn to take those first steps-a place that breaks every time I watch my little ones reach a new milestone.

My husband tells me to enjoy their new accomplishments, to be proud of them…and I am, oh how I am. Yet, I am sad as well, never again will C, so close to being a teen, crawl into my lap when he doesn’t feel good. I will never have J curled up next to me while he struggles to read Dr. Seuss. A will never step on that bus again for his first day of kindergarten, and even H, my baby, has given up on his 2 am feedings. My children still need me of course, and when milestones are met, others wait in the wings-other milestones they have not reached and still need me to be there for.

But there is that place in my heart that yearns for them to always be babies, that longs to keep them with me and never let them go. I read somewhere that having a child is like cutting out a piece of your heart and setting it free, if that is so I have four small pieces of my heart here-four beautiful, sweet, intelligent pieces that I get to hold and laugh with everyday. And I am lucky I have an equally beautiful, sweet, intelligent man to share it all with.