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.

Happy Mother's Day, Bitches: Why "Mommy Wars" are a crock of crap and other grievances....

When you meet me with my kids, the first thing that comes out of my mouth is usually something like this: "I'm sorry, my kids are really bad.  I'm a bad mom." You will most likely say "No! They're adorable!!" as they tear down furniture, finger shoot each other, and repeatedly ask for lollipops.

I've always found it strange when I hear about women competing to be the best all around person in the world.  If you are one of those people that do work hard, more power to you.  But I seemingly always compete to be most useless, worst mom in the world.  Maybe I'm humble, maybe I just think it's funny, maybe I really just don't care.  I'd just really like to say I love your FB posts and Pinterest projects. It's pretty sweet you get all those "likes".  All the same, I don't feel bad for you  or envy you when you're working so hard because you probably already have that "Mother of the Year" plaque on the wall.

 I think  sometimes we're really good at some things, and really bad at other things.  What we share is something we can agree to disagree on.  So, in recognition for Mother's Day, I compiled a list of the worst ways I am a mother, and a slightly horrible human being.  Hope this makes you feel even better about yourself!:

1. I blame my tardiness on my children, even though we all know, they're the first ones standing by the door shoes on, clothes ready, with clean faces.
2. Sometimes, I will yell at my kids before it's nap time because I know they fall asleep easier when they cry.
3. I tell Sam that it's ok to be upset, but he could probably use some alone time... only because I can't stand his whining anymore.
4. I make Sam say his "Please, May I"'s over and over again when he demands things... mostly because I'm too lazy to get what he wants the first time he asks.
5. I tell Jarod and other people that we need to wait longer to change Evan's poopy diapers because he may not be done... while this is semi true, I do it because I'm preparing myself.  Feces smell makes me gag.  In the same way, I pretend like I don't hear Sam yell "Mommy!" from the bathroom, when Jarod is home, because I know he wants someone to wipe his butt.
6. I sit on the toilet and pretend to be number two-ing to get some alone time while I browse Zulily.
7. One time, I forgot to feed Sam dinner, because he wouldn't eat what I made (typical).  I was starving and wanted a hot meal. I believe he had cookies for dinner that night.  (No complaints)
8. The boys think the grocery store is a toy store, because that's the only way I can shop without disturbances.
9. I regularly pretend I don't understand what Sammy is saying to get on HIS nerves.
10. These were my top 5 reasons for not breastfeeding:

-After that whole ordeal, I needed a shot glass of wine or five.  

-I refused to continue my healthy diet for the sake of my child.

-I found big boobs to be an annoyance.

-It was time for Daddy Jarod to carry the load for once.

-My little peaks didn't need to add "saggy" to their description.

What I've learned is no matter how bad the bad days can be being a mommy.  It's better than having your dog raise your baby (Peter Pan reference).  This is the short list of things I do that would probably disqualify me from having any more children, but I believe my boys are the happiest kids in the world.  I bet yours are too.  They could probably pass in society as normal.  I don't pretend to be an expert in anything, and unless you really are an expert in something, maybe we should just all give each other a little break.  Have a fun weekend celebrating yourselves!

Blogging Not Packing...

I thought packing a bag a week ago would help get a move on and have a relaxing last night at home, but life begs to differ.  I've got four half packed bags, a crazy messy room, and tons of things pending UPS shipment.  This is not going to happen.


Eh, all the same, this normally happens, but with more stuff not done yet.  I've probably sat through Finding Nemo (or as same calls it "Elmo fish") 11 times, watched countless ABC drama hit series, and yelled at Sam to stop taking things out of our luggage a million times in the last couple weeks... probs why nothing is done yet.

Jarod seems to think that I'm more emotional that I like to put out and not packing = my way of dealing with it.  Yes, Jarod told me I have repressed feelings.  Whatevs.

I'll tell you something, I will be missing this:

Trash Day in the Neighborhood, but what I'm trying to say is, I'm going to miss Fall.

This time tomorrow, we'll be flying into Texas!  Well, that's if my children don't terrorize the entire plane (which hopefully will be empty on this fine Thursday Afternoon)

Updates in Texas when I get there!

Oh hi, Haters!

Soo... thought about not addressing it, being the bigger person, but whatev's.  Let's just say I'm not.

About 2 months after writing my last post, I get some e-mail notifications with some pretty heavy comments on my blog.  What.the.heck.  Seriously guys?  Honestly, I have no idea who's writing these crazy things, but if you're taking me seriously, you 1. Obvi don't know me 2. Never read my blog Unexpected Mommy 3. Don't read very well into sarcasm.  Thought I'd stop writing, but then I actually thought about it.

Here's the disclaimer for my writing, as I've said before:  My grammar is off, I don't proof read, and half of what I write is supposed to make you laugh, not take seriously.


Hate writers: You just gave me celeb status.  Hate what you said, Love that you hate me.  I'm taking it in stride.  Probs shouldn't write everything that comes to mind, but you know what?  Most people enjoy it.  So, I'm going to keep writing and not take the higher road.

If you misunderstand my blog for the complete truth, let me clue you into a few things.  I exaggerate like it's my job.  I've noticed in real life, this causes some confusion for a lot of people, but I also clarify in real life.  I love my boys for everything they do.  I JOKE about their habits and everything they're learning to do.  Parents do it all the time.   I live at home in the summer, like A LOT of hockey families do because we haven't put our roots down.  We literally can't, because we don't know where we will be playing or if we'll be playing the next year. Those hockey families that do have homes in the summer are the lucky ones that have it figured out (we're still trying) My family is fantastic for putting up with us.

J and I run into problems and misunderstandings, our kids do weird things, our families are crazy.  I exaggerate those details to make you laugh.  I pretend to know everything, but really know diddly.

If you still don't get it, I'm sorry, and you should stop reading this blog.  I'm not sure how you found this in the first place, but you should really find someone else to hate, because all you do it make me laugh.



As 3LW would say: Haters they gonna hate

Also, I'm moderating now. Have fun guyssss.

'Til Next Time...

Cutting the Cord

"I've gotta get out of my parent's house"

We all say it at some point... we all mean it at some point...

But how many people do you know, got out, got married, went really far away, then came back again?

I don't have the statistics on it, but I'm one of those people.

About seven months ago, I had what I like to call, Pregnancy Brain.  Pregnancy Brain happens, obviously, when you're pregnant, and have no control or idea over your decision making process because of:1. Dehydration 2. Lack of Sleep 3. Achiness 4. That little fetus taking over your body.  It pops up throughout pregnancy, and you're to be forgiven when you say or do things you wouldn't normally do.  Jarod and I have decided I get 3 "freebies" a day due to Pregnancy Brain.

Anyhoo...

In my first month of pregnancy, I was dying.  Literally.  I lost 10 pounds, couldn't get up, was ready for the priest to come to give me my last rites. As Jarod would say, I was being a wimp.  My parents took this as their golden opportunity to weasel their way in and take advantage of me:

"Come home, and we can help with Sam and take care of you."

I was sold.  Cut to present day. Total regret.  Two things happened in less than a month.

A week ago, Sammy comes down with a high fever.  Uncomfortable, but otherwise, nbd for the babe, because he's running around and playing like nothing is going on.  On top of that, he's got swollen gums, aka teething.  I give him his medication, monitor him, and decide I'm going to wait a few days before going to the doctor to see if it goes down itself (it did).  Chau Pham goes nuts.  It's child abuse, Sammy is becoming delusional because he's still playing but he's sick.  We should probably go to the emergency room, I'm a bad mother, I don't know what I'm doing.  (This all came out in the same breath) Alright, well, Sammy is fine.  Brain is intact, he's alive in well.  Stay out of it, Father.

Yesterday, my dad tries to pull a Rumplestiltskin.  Yes, I'm calling it the Rumplestiltskin.  He's almost certain I won't be able to handle two children, especially boys (OK, he might be correct in this assumption, but it would be nice to be given the benefit of the doubt).  So he wants to take BBF, and raise him for me... (Insert Vi Face here) and once he grows up, "The Dragon" (because he is nameless right now) will be a perfect gentleman.  

Let's pull up Chau Pham's track record: My brother.... Sam.... This would not be possible for Mr. Pham to do.  I call his bluff and say he wants to relive the good ole days of his youth.  Not gonna happen, father.  I love my unborn fetus too much.

While keeping in mind that I'm exaggerating, this offer truly was given to me, which I ungratefully turned down.  But the moral of this story is, don't move back with your parents when you're married and have kids, even if it is just for the summer.  Obvi it was my choice, and Jarod went along with it.  They're the best parents ever, and I couldn't do a lot without them.  But they start to get crazy ideas.

Ba Ba and his Sammy

Shout out to my brother from another mother, JB.

One year, two kids, and five moves later....

Happy Anniversary to Us!  They say the first year's the hardest, but it kinda felt like a breeze.  I suppose actually being able to be together as a family for the first time felt more like a relief than a burden and we really cherished every moment we had together as a family.   

Per usual, Jarod planned a last minute weekend getaway for us to explore Cincinnati.  Two years ago, coincidentally, when I was pregnant with Sam, we explored bits of Minneapolis and had a great time.  I've been a good deal more time in Cincy than Jarod has in Minny, but really only going to the places my sis has taken me.  

Beautiful Cincinnati Skyline

Let's pause for a second and reflect... not to sound ungrateful, but how/why is it that whenever we "have the time" to do something fun like this, I have to be pregnant? I just happen to be clomping around the city like Godzilla, in the heat of summer, with a big sweaty smile on my face.  Fantastic picture let me tell you.  It must be some plot by Jarod to make me a cheap date. hahah Check me out at the reds game:

Hot, sweaty, and happy after my 11 dollar Slurpy

Basically, we got to be ballers in a snazzy room at the Hilton in Netherlands Plaza for two days aaand what did we do? I'll sum it up for you: The Melting Pot, Taste of Belgium, Boi Na Braza, aaand Gin Rummy.  One thing I've learned since becoming a mommy is that there's no better time to do nothing than the time you spend away from your child, it's fabulous. 

Outside the Famous Orchid Restaurant at the Hilton

Question: How short/tight is too short/tight for a Prego?

At Boi Na Braza.  Can we say, Food Baby?

What a nice treat. (Also our third dessert of the night)

The Historic Hilton at Netherlands Plaza

I know that I'm part of that lucky group of people who have found the right person to spend the rest of their lives with.  As crazy as our life is, we are happy, we love each other, and I don't get that sick of the guy.  As sappy as it sounds, I'm so happy I'm with the love of my life.

               Til next time!

P.S.
Hiii Jason Beck!