Sprinkles

I went to the same pediatrician from 18 months of life to, oh, let's call it 18 years old (I'm fairly certain I'm one of the few patients he had to kick out of his office...). His name was Dr. Payne. Seriously. With a name like Payne, you are FORCED into either a career as military official or a pediatrician. Because every four year old cub loves to hear the words, "Sweetie, are you ready to go see Dr. Payne?" Right?

Anyhoo. In the bathroom of Dr. Payne's office there was a silly little poem above the toilet. It read:

"If you sprinkle

when you tinkle,

Be a sweetie and

wipe the seatie."

And, considering I had somewhere between twelve and, oh, six million and forty two urinary tract infections in my life, I spent a lot of time in that bathroom reading that silly poem. A lot.

So, yesterday, Sugar Bear finally did the big deed in the potty (I'll save you the details. And the picture. Papa Bear was not as lucky as you...). Big deal in our household. B-I-G. I'll admit right here on my blog to some serious poor parenting and let you Cyberbears know that I bribed the heck outta that cub. I think I might possibly have offered her a car when she turns sixteen. But, I was desperate folks!

Wanna know what the winning bribe was? Do you? Well, I'll tell you. My Sugar Bear stayed true to her nickname and held out for a Sprinkles Cupcake. Oh. Yes. She. Did.

And all I could think of yesterday the rest of the day was that stupid, stupid poem.

Kinda ruined the cupcake experience for me.

Welcome to just a small peek into the madness that is moi, Mama Bear. You are welcome.

I Don't Know How She Does It

There's a movie coming out now (based on a book that, incidentally, I was reading when I found out that Brother Bear was going to join our world) called I Don't Know How She Does It. Heard of it? It's about a working mom who is trying to balance everything in her life. Although I LOVE me some SJP, I'm not 100% sure I'm going to go see it.

Why?

Well. I'll tell you. (Hold on just a second while I get my step stool a little closer to the pulpit. Tap, tap, tap. Is this thing on? Can you hear me? Okay. Good.)

It's because, hello, (spoiler alert) reality is: SHE DOESN'T REALLY DO IT. That's right folks. The regular, run of the mill wife/mother/etc., CANNOT DO IT ALL. (Audience gasps) It's a lie portrayed beautifully through characters like: June Cleaver, Carol Brady, Shirley Partridge, and Claire Huxtable. Great moms? Sure, on paper and film. Real moms? Meeehhhh...not so much.

Real moms spend every single day walking the tightrope of life, falling down, getting up, falling down, getting up, going to bed and then getting back up the next day to do it all over again. Real moms feel the pressure (created by society) to be perfect and daily fight the battle to grasp that ever elusive, ever moving golden ring.

And Mama Bears, we're never going to get it. It just isn't possible.

When I think of the title "I Don't Know How She Does It" I actually think the same thing. Because these are the kinds of things this Mama Bear does:

• Shows up for Sugar Bear's ballet class (not the first one, mind you) at the time the class gets out...not when it starts.
• In the hustle and bustle of back to school hysteria, forgets to plan her youngest cub's birthday party until two weeks before said birthday.
• Ignores the blinking oil light on the car that says "-151%." Because, if the Swagger Wagon didn't spontaneously combust at -135% it will probably survive a few more errands.
• Drops off cub at school wearing her pajamas because getting 5 more minutes of shut-eye beat out vanity.
• Cannot, for all that is good and holy, get her youngest cub to poop in the potty.
• Has a list, but cannot find it.
• Recognizes at, oh, midnight or so that she never got around to brushing her teeth. Or bathing. Or combing her hair.
• Forgets friends' birthdays, anniversaries and other very important life events. Constantly.
• Has her cub study the spelling list all week only to realize at 11 p.m. the night before the test that she gave the cub the wrong spelling list.
• Registers for a mandatory scout training class less than 24 hours before said training class begins.
• Oversleeps and misses her weekly long run with her running group. That she's supposed to help lead.
• Goes a whole evening without recognizing that she has her panties on backwards. (Truth. Very, very uncomfortable truth)

I could go on. But I won't. Because you get the picture. And I don't even have a paying-outside-of-the-den job. (For those of you who do - hats off. You guys rock and are my total heros.)

So, despite my love for SJP, I hope you'll excuse me if I skip this one.

I just can't do it.

Eight

Eight.

Oh my.

I can barely get the words out of my mouth!

I gasp sometimes when I think about it.

Eight years ago today

You made me a Mama Bear.

You took someone who thought she knew everything

and turned her world upside down.

(I mean that in the best way possible!)

And now, as if I blinked

it's eight years later.

You're independent.

very independent.

Yet, you still give me sloppery kisses.

You are so inquisitive.

so very inquisitive.

Yet, you still think I know most things.

You are so brave.

so very brave.

Yet, you still need a reassuring huggle every once in a while.

Brother Bear,

your heart and passion sometimes exceed what your little body is capable of holding.

Yet, you never cease to amaze me.

I'm starry eyed in your presence.

My first born.

My boy.

Here's to Eight.

It's magic.

Love,

Mama Bear, Papa Bear & Sugar Bear

Committed

Are you committed? Today on Facebook, I'm talking about getting committed. Click here to read more (and maybe even get committed).

Remembering

September 20, 2010.

I remember.

I would carry the burden for you today (and tomorrow, and the next day...) dear friend if I could.

If only I could.

Today, I dedicate my post to you. You, who has the strength of twenty men. You, who crossed one of life's milestone too early. You, who walks through the path of sorrow with both Southern and Godly grace.

The closing hymn on Sunday made me think about the path we've shared together as friends. How blessed I have been to have you by my side in certain circumstances. How I hope you know I'm here. But more importantly, how you know that you are being carried through this by someone who's stronger and more powerful than either you or me.

Today I will sing the wondrous story. You don't have to sing along. I'll sing it for you.

"I was bruised but Jesus healed me;

Faint was I from many a fall;

Sight was gone and fears possessed me,

But he freed me from them all.

Days of darkness still come o'er me,

Sorrows paths I often tread,

But the Savior still is with me;

By his hand I'm safely led."

I remember.

Kryptonite

If I were a super hero bear (which, let's just get this out of the way right now, I AM NOT) do you want to know what would be my Kryptonite? Do you?

I'll tell you. No, I'll show you:

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AHHH! I can feel the superpowers being sucked from me as. I. type....

I'm going to be an honest Mama Bear right now and tell you a secret:

I HATE POTTY-TRAINING.

Hate it. HATE, HATE, HATE. Yes, the word I tell my cubs they cannot say. So there. Call CPS and tell them. Maybe they will come potty train my cubs for me. BECAUSE I AM A COMPLETE AND TOTAL POTTY TRAINING FAILURE. There are a MILLION other parenting type jobs that I would rather do than potty train a toddler cub. Seriously. A MILLION. I've reached the point where I understand how parent bears pay other people to train their cubs. Because, I'm pretty much there (Anyone up for a barter? I can make several delicious dinners to trade?!?!).

I've taken suggestions from friends, read the articles, tried to put the tips into use, bribed, cajoled, etc. TO NO AVAIL.

I'm powerless in the face of Potty Training, and I don't like it one bit.

Sigh.

I know she won't go to kindergarten wearing pull ups. I know it will happen. I know. But, I just needed to let y'all know how I'm feeling these days.

So, Cyber Bears if you were a Super Hero Parent Bear (which, I'm sure many of you ARE) what would YOUR Kryptonite be?

Tell me, please. Feel free to be anonymous in the comments section. I just need a little parental-bear commiseration here...

Faulty Plumbing

Need a tissue? Me too. Today I'm talking about crying. Click here to read more.

Send in the Clowns

Today on Facebook, I'm paying tribute to someone who was an influence on me during my formative, high school years. Click here to read more.