I just recently celebrated the one year anniversary of becoming a SAHM mom. By celebrated,  I clearly mean posting about it on Facebook. No one was throwing me a party for the decision I made. No one even said, “hey thanks mom for sitting at home with us all day. Thanks for making sandwiches or scrubbing pee off the floors.” Nope. No one else even acknowledge my SAHM-AVERSARY. Really though, I’m fine. with that. 


Maybe when they’re older they’ll see what I gave up for them and for our family; the good, the bad, the future, the money. Not that any of it was certain or that any of it means more to me than my kids because that’s not even close to what I mean. I may die before I get the thank you, I want so bad. It’s not their fault, they’re young. Way to young to get it. Its my own fault. Why do I need to hear it so badly? I see it on their faces and I feel it in their hugs and kisses. Why do I need to hear it? It doesn’t matter. When or if I ever get that ‘Thank You’ it will mean so much, but that’s not why I do what I do.



When I found out I was pregnant with Jace, I became very guilty.  It’s not something I discussed with anyone other than Brandon. I felt like strangers where raising my kids. They were not bad or imposing morally wrong beliefs on my kids; just at what point in time was I going to step up and take on more than just a financial responsibility to my kids? I was there for them but not nearly as much as I wanted to or they needed me to be. I was just doing bare minimum.


In order for them to be in a structured daycare, the one that we liked; they had to be there Mon-Fri. My work schedule was Wed-Sun. We enrolled them there because that’s what was best for our family. We went 5 years of never having a steady weekend daycare provider. They would spend some weekend days with family members or I’d pay a friend. It was never anything stable. I knew it wasn’t right. It hurt my heart, that I had to send my babies somewhere every day; but if I didn’t we couldn’t have survived. I would wake up crying because I missed them. I was missing everything. I missed birthdays, holidays and EVERY day. I was Mommy but I was not their primary care giver. My heart hurt so bad.


Jaelyn was having outrageous issues that I still don’t know the reason behind. Jenna was so shy and introverted. The longer it went, the bigger toll it took on my pregnant body. Knowing that I was bringing another child into this weighed very heavy on my heart. I was put on bed-rest for the last month of Jaces pregnancy. Though I could not fully care for my kids at least I was there more. I was there when they woke up and I was there when they went to bed. I needed that and I loved every minute I spent with them, but the fear of going back to work haunted me.


After delivering Jace, the need to be home grew greater. All three of my babies needed me and I needed them. I was home with them for 3 months before I was to return back to work. Jaelyn and I rekindled the mamas boy bond that we once had shared so greatly and his outrageous issues slowly subsided. Jenna was coming out of her shell. She laughed more, played harder and smiled bigger. And then I would look at Jace and all I could think was how amazing he was and how all the kids started off this way and then they changed because I wasn’t around. Now they were  changing back because I came back. How would this change Baby Jace? I cried all the time. I couldn’t go back to work. I couldn’t leave my babies. I could NEVER leave them again.


The week after I had Jace, Brandon switched careers. A sure thing was no longer a sure thing. He was happier at his new job and I could see it on his face after work everyday. His body was taking a beating but mentally he was better off. Because of the schedule at Brandon’s new job and the schedule at my old job, there was no way I could return to work. Neither of us would ever see the kids. We took the biggest leap of faith in the company Brandon works for now and said to hell with it all. I quit my job!


The looks I got from people; they couldn’t believe I quit my job. I was walking away from a federal position and all the amazing benefits it came with. What people fail to realize is every one of those benefits came with a price tag, one I was no longer willing to pay.


Every day I get to spend with my kids is a day I’m thankful for. We may not have all the materialistic things we once had but that’s ok. Because now we have each other more so than we ever have had before. The first question of the day is no longer “whose watching us today” but rather, “what are we doing today Mommy?” And that makes it all worth it.


My kids have my full attention every minute of every day. Unless I’m blogging or playing on Facebook. The uncertainty that once loomed in the back of mind is gone. No one is going to love my children and care for them the way I do. Every day that we all survive with smiles on our faces is a thank you to me. I just need to realize it.




Paper, Rock, Scissors


Every one knows how to play paper, rock, scissors (PRS) right? Best way to determine whose the lucky one, on any given crappy situation. Winner determines who does what. Some times the win gives a good reward, other times it saves you from being the grunt.



When Brandon and I first moved in together and it was just the 3 of us, (Jaelyn, Brandon and I) PRS determined everything from shitty diapers to who gets to sleep in on days off. I remember complaining about having to be the one to get up at 8 am. I would give my left boob to sleep till 8 am now a days. (Not the right one, that one gets a lot of loving from Brandon, can’t give that up)


I remember the look our coworkers would give us when we PRSed for a task at work. Some would laugh, others would roll their eyes. We always had fun at work. We were getting paid to do a job but we got to do it together. We were having the time of our life and everyone around us knew it. That made the majority of the people we encountered feel good and enjoy being around us. Every one has haters, Brenny (us) was no exception to that.


 I always lost at PRS. I don’t know if im just predictable or if Brandon is just that good. Either way after a while PRS was discouraging.  Brandon could see it in my eyes. After a win he would still end up doing the task because he felt bad. So was I really losing at PRS or was I just using what my momma gave me, to get me out of a few poopy diapers? The world may never know.


It’s a good thing we’re more of a bargaining or “pay me to do it” kind of couple now. That sulking crap gets exhausting over time. Now we either just blatantly ask the other one or we sweeten up the deal. By sweeten up the deal I mean there better be a sexual favor or a money exchange involved for it to be considered. Those are usually reserved for the, “I know you really don’t wanna do this, but I really don’t wanna do it MORE” type of things.


Brandon once paid me 50 bucks to run up to the gas station. Technically all money in our possession is OUR money but him giving that to me was a “no questions asked were this gets spent,” gesture. Heck yeah I rolled up to the gas station, giddy as all get out.


We also used to play thumb-war all the time. I was over that method fast though. For as tiny as his hands are (think the guy with the small hands on the Burger King commercial) he sure has freakishly long thumbs. It’s pure bullshit. I got short, stumpy, little sausage thumbs. They’re no match for his thumbs. Screw thumb war.


I sure do miss they PRS days; but they’re long gone. We can’t use that method anymore. There’s always more than one task to complete.

 I consider myself lucky now a days if Brandon’s home to help out. So instead of being a full-time jerk and declaring PRS for every task. Probably would lose them all anyways. I say “this or that.” You either do this or you do that, your choice. He always picks the easy task. That’s ok though, especially if it could result in a huge mess. I’ll do it because its harder to complain if you’re the one who made the mess.


I miss playing PRS, but I don’t miss loosing all the time. Maybe when the kids are a little older we’ll start playing again. You know, when there’s not so many shitty diapers riding on it.  Maybe then Brandon will be too incoherent to cheat. Boom, the ether. YEAH I SAID IT.  Brandon was a PRS cheater.