Hello, my name is Vi, and I'm a semi-decent mommy.

So, Sammy and I have been working on writing for quite some time.  I used to be really tough on him about it.  I mean, how hard could this really be?  Never mind the fact that I had zero inklings of reading until the midpoint of first grade, but that's a different sort of learning disability... and story. So, I'd lose my temper, threaten to take away privileges... all the things that would make anyone a Class A Mother.  This mommy dearest act translated into play time as well.  Sammy is really into puzzles and those darn millimeter sized legos that take an hour to put together.  He also is determined to do it himself... this is.. frustrating.  I just wanted to get it done.   All the yelling and arguing between us results in zero to no progress, which sucks for the both of us.

After the poor child has dealt with this for the first 3.5 years of his life and finally gained enough vocabulary to express himself, he fires this one at me:  "Stop yelling at me! I am TRYING to be a good boy." Please break my heart, Sam.  File this under: Things You Need to Hear.  He really was trying, and he's always trying to be the best boy.  I decided to reassess the situation, talk to a few people, and figure out how to teach my son without sending him into adult therapy with his mommy issues.

I needed to enjoy this time with the guy.   I needed him to be able to enjoy this time with me. How many times do you get to say, "I taught my son to write his name."?  So, I came up with a system that he could enjoy succeeding in and I learned to take a breath.  When we are learning, Sam's efforts fall into 3 categories: OK, Good, and Fantastic.  Yes, Sam loves to be fantastic.  Every time he tries, it's an honest effort, whatever it looks like, if he stays on the page, it's OK, but we're striving for Fantastic, always.  If he can finish do the lesson in his fantastic ways, he gets to go play, even if it's on try #1.  And there are days that he doesn't want to do our hour of learning, which I understand.  He gets the choice of a nap or learning.  If he's been trying to do his writing, and keeps doing an OK job, he can stop and go take a nap.  You get the gist here.  This has been the most successful way to get Sam to do just about anything I want him to learn.  Kid LOVES to be fantastic.  It's a win-win.

I've been a mom for what, 4 going on 5 years now?  It is hard.  When they tell you, "things get easier," after you have a newborn and you're awake all night making sure they're breathing, OR when you're potty training, but mostly cleaning up poop on the ground, OR when your kid tells you they hate you for the first time... I'll tell you right now, those people are full of shit.  I STILL check to make sure my kids are breathing, there is always crap to clean up off the ground, aaand from what I remember as a teenager, your kids will always hate you...just a little bit.  I have not reached the half a decade mark, and I realize that, when you are a mother, no matter how old your children are, you will never have it easy.

Before I had Sam, I remember I had a talk with my BFF Britt, and told her I didn't want to be one of those moms that didn't let their kids have the toys they really wanted.  I could remember so many times where I'd want something so so bad, and wouldn't even get it for Christmas.  So if they wanted it, whatever, they could have it.  She replied with, "So you want to spoil them (period.)." Well... I guess so.  Turns out, you can't do that. Needless to say, and in the most clique way possible, my idea of parenthood was completely wrong from day 1.  I will spare you all the details of my WTF moments, but really.

W.T.F?

I worked really hard to keep up with mommy bloggers and this idea that I could be just as super as what I'm seeing others do.  Not to mention, just about every mother that was around me did not do the things I did, and thought I was weird.  Jarod wasn't buying it either.  I must have been doing everything wrong.  Keep in mind I'm dealing with my concussed psychopath who thought this was a great time to start a business that relied on me to do a lot of work I never knew people had to do.  Anyway, I considered myself to be a terrible mom.

Reality was and is that I'm pretty good.  After my mini meltdown and the rebuild of my self confidence and life, I realized that I will never be a Super Mommy.  #1 I already fail, because I don't have a job.  And let's face it, a nine to fiver really isn't for me.  #2 The idea of conforming to whatever is trendy or doing things I honestly don't like doing has never appealed to my psyche. #3 I am a Negative Nancy. So anyway, I decided that life, when categorized and compartmentalized, easily is scaled into my learning system.  In this case, in your mommy-ing, you can be OK, Good, or Fantastic.

Here are a few generals for each:

The OK Mommy

Children appear clean in public
Children run around like wild chickens and get in personal space, but they don't hit, lick, or bite people
3 meals are served, no questions on how or where this came about.
The house is clean, though it may not be visibly clean to company.
Though you may not shower for the day or changed your clothes, you got out of bed at a decent hour of the morning.

The GOOD Mommy

Children are actually clean, though clothes may not be the right size (cleaning out the closet after the growth spurt is on the list...)
Children will do as they please in public, BUT return when called back.
3 meals are served, at least 2 made in the home kitchen
House is clean, and by the end of the day, things APPEAR to be in their place, regardless of where they are actually stuffed.
Showering is optional, but you got those cute gym clothes on that now act as lounge wear.

The FANTASTIC Mommy

Children are clean and have clothes on that fit and match.
Children follow your lead like little ducklings should.
Your 3 meals were served, all made by your loving hands that also planned out your meals for this week AND next
House is clean AND organized *Labels optional
Shower occurred before the fam bam woke up and you're wearing jeans.

This little scaling system took 4 showers (where I do all my best thinking), a week day scheduler, a wall of post it notes, and a handful of writing sessions with Sammy to develop.  This has mostly made my self esteem go up about 10 points on that endless scale, and made me sleep a little easier.  I'll be honest here.  I handle being Fantastic Mommy for probably 3 out of 5 week days for the past 2 weeks.  I usually hover around OK to Good, mostly because Jarod's been out of town, and let's not kid ourselves, who is this show really for?

My point here is, everyone wants to be a fantastic mommy... maybe even be a super mommy.  But some days, it's really hard to write between the lines and in the same way, it's hard to get out of that robe and make those meals.  Just go with it enjoy your time, take a nap, and tomorrow, you'll be fantastic.

My Quarter- Life Crisis.

For the past two years or so, I've fallen off the inter webs into the shadows of "creep status," mostly just watching everyone on social media and feeling bad for myself.  Life had turned upside, once again, and I am never anywhere near prepared for it.  What do I do? Go into survival mode.

Let's rewind to let's say… 8 years ago.  These were my basic worries:
1. Learning all the words to Lil' Wayne's 3 peat.
2. Winning radio call-in contests.
3. Steering clear of Chau Pham.

About 5 seconds after completing college, I was suddenly in mommy mode, I was a wife, moving for the first time in my life, and having to make friends… for the first time in my life.  Happiest time ever, right?  Let's throw in a few concussions, another baby, a career change, a semi-truck collision and starting a new business.

I look in the mirror and suddenly I'm 92 pounds (literally, you can see my chest bones), I'm regularly covering dark circles under my eyes, and I've got a 2 year old handing me 3 used lollipop sticks.  I have zero to no friends, no hobbies, and (at the time) couldn't tell you the last time I changed out of my pajamas.  Seriously? This is my life? …. This. Is. My. Life.

I'm not sure how many people know this, but I have quiet a talent in creating derogatory poetry.  This little ditty has been pounding in my head… about myself:

*Sung to the tune of "Happy Birthday"*

Con-grats to you!

You live in a zoo!

You smell like a gym rat, 

But you look like a deflated balloon

I obviously love myself a lot right now.  So what do I do?

I chop all my hair off and go ape-shit crazy.

After Jarod's ump-teenth concussion and the painstaking decision to quit playing to start coaching, Jarod lost the first love of his life and best friend.  Losing Jon was like losing a limb for Jarod.  I watched him struggle through concussions, but here, Jarod lost a piece of his heart.  This became torturous for him; as he worked through the grief, it was almost as if there was nothing worth the time to enjoy in this life, something he still struggles with.  He distanced himself from everyone.  No more connections seemed worth it.

We worked through it and we worked hard.  We moved into our first real home, our hockey clinic was taking off (positives), then Jarod met up with a semi-truck (another concussion), made it out alive (positive), we gained 3 teen brothers plus their two friends for a good portion of 6 months, and for the first time in my life, I felt like an adult.  We made it through all in one piece, I forgot those darn Christmas cards, but we made it through.

Our first summer in our new home was supposed to be easy and in one place.  Instead, we decided it would be best to travel the country in my mini-van *just one last time* Let's skip over the details and call this "The Straw that Broke the Camel's Back"…. as I refer to it "The Trip that Broke Mommy's Brain."

So here I am 2015, looking to make some big changes.  I freaking hate resolutions.  I made a resolution a few years back to never make one again.  I stuck to it.  I think my biggest problem has been that I have no idea who I am anymore.  I spend my days in a daze, hanging out with my two BFF's, not doing much at all, getting yelled at by Jarod Palmer (instead of Chau Pham) for not doing what I'm supposed to do at home (Wait,has life really not changed that much?).

I've decided to reexamine my life.  One piece at a time.  I keep telling myself, there are all the things I can change NOW, but it turns out, I just get overwhelmed and don't get anything done but add pins to my Pinterest of the life I should have.

So here it is, Hello, My name is Vi Palmer and I'm getting out of this funk.