A Lazy, Frozen Saturday

I knew this past Saturday was going to be pretty boring for the kiddos if I didn't think of something to do. Charles had been working the night shift so he was sleeping and it was supposed to snow-I didn't want to be driving around in that. I decided we could do an activity and watch Frozen for the millionth time.

I thought it would be cute if they could build Olaf. First I drew pieces the kids could cut out to make an Olaf (2 white circles for the body, another weird shape with a drawn on face for the head, 2 little white feet, and an orange nose). Then I cut out the buttons, arms, and hair from black felt so they could glue those on. We used a peice of blue felt as the background to glue the pieces together. Then I gave them white fabric paint to dab on snow flakes-but they went a little nuts with that part. Afterwards we watched the movie, made hot chocolate with marshmallows, and ate popcorn.

After the movie they played the Just Dance Wii game. Then Briana was invited to a sleepover and the rest of the evening with Hudson was cake.

I really enjoy times like this because it's not the same as taking them to do something fun. You're actually forced to sit down and have moments with them, laugh with them, and make quality memories.  

It was a fun time. Check out their cute little Olafs.

Baby Fever

I have baby fever. Like the worst I have had it since Hudson. And not just the day kind this time. This is like the not-going-away kind. What is wrong with me? I have 2 children; one is school aged and the other is almost school aged. I'm so close to not paying day-care anymore. Plus, if I have three then I have to have four because it's still my dream to adopt. Part of me even feels guilty for birthing any at all because of all the ones that need homes. I always told Charles we shouldn't let the children out number us! Having a child now is, like, crazy.

I don't know. I miss being pregnant. I miss holding that tiny baby. I miss all the funny things they do in the first few years. The kids are old enough to be helpers and both really want another sibling. They don't really understand the nature of a baby, of course. I also really, really like the idea of having multiple adult children. The whole raising thing is hard, but when they are old enough to have their own lives- the idea of the kids and their new families coming over for visits and holiday dinners is AWESOME to me. If I was wealthy enough to hire help I wouldn't stop at three or four. It would probably be more like 5-6. The more the merrier. Thinking about never being pregnant again makes me feel sad. I don't know if I really appreciated that when I was pregnant with Hudson.

Believe me. I also remember the not-fun (to put it nicely) parts about being pregnant and then having a baby. No sleep. Feeding. No sleep. Crying. The baby crying. No sleep. Spreading yourself thin. Getting fatter. Paying day care. Cost of diapers and formula. No sleep. The worry. Not enough help. Less time with your spouse. Did I say no sleep?

Things are back on the right track and we're only 1-2 years away from owning a home again-for the final time. After all, we always tend to do things all at once. Why quit now?

A Letter to Briana and Hudson on Dreams

Dear Briana and Hudson,

I hope your dreams are big. I hope your imagination is huge. I hope you have enough will power and strong mindedness to push through life with vigor. I want you to do whatever you want to do. I want you to be whoever you want to be. But don't think for a second that it will be easy. Don't think for a second it won't be hard.

Know for every yes you'll have a hundred nos. Go into life knowing that it's going to challenge you and test your limits. It's not a matter of if bad things will happen but a matter of when. But you can be better than the rest. You can do better than the rest. You can ask life, is that all you got? You can be prepared. If someone tells you no, keep going until you get a yes. If you took three steps forward only to be pushed ten steps back then strive for twenty more. When you fall down, get back up; every, single, time. If someone tells you that you're not good enough don't bother to tell them they're wrong; show them. If they can't see all the wonderful things about you then they're not worth knowing. Sometimes your own mind will say you're not good enough. Don't listen to that either.

No matter what you strive for in life, the only thing that matters is love. My dream was to have you. I will always love you. I will always believe in you. On earth, or in heaven, I will always be with you.

Love,

Mom.

An Open Letter to Jodi Meltzer, Author of the Article, “Moms Have No Excuse for Dressing Like Slobs at School Dropoff."

Dear Jodi,

Reading this article made me furious. Then I upgraded my feelings to being sad instead. I felt like you had betrayed me, betrayed all moms, and betrayed all women. Congratulations on slapping girl-power in the face.

To address the title of this article, yes I do have an excuse; I’m a mom! I don’t feel like I should have to explain that. I feel like since you’re a mom too, Jodi, you should understand. Unless you have maybe only one child, and he or she  is weirdly well behaved, and self-sufficient every hour of the day, I don’t have to tell you that I’m tired every morning, and I would rather spend what precious little extra time I have talking to my kid about their school musical than I would putting on mascara. I don’t have to tell you that my yoga pants, and baggy sweater are way more comfortable than leggings and a nice top. I don’t have to tell you that if my morning breath, and sad choice of clothing is more of a concern to my kid’s teacher than how well she is performing in school (due to my constant practice with her at home) then her teacher is less than qualified-to put it nicely. I don't have to tell you that I don't get a ton of sleep as it is. No way am I going to wake up earlier and improve my appearance just to appease other people. I also shouldn’t have to tell you that teaching our kids, especially our little girls, that our appearance is part of our self worth is setting them up for failure. And by the way, in what altered universe does the majority population of kids go to school looking “immaculate” and “fashion-forward”? I'm glad my kids don't go there. 

Let's forget the mom part all together. Let's say that I'm a single twenty-something, child free, woman buying groceries at the store. Or, maybe I'm a sixty-something grandmother buying her grandchildren ice-cream on the corner. Am I expected to dress a certain way in these situations? Are you going to be offended because on this particular day I chose to wear sweat pants and not comb my hair all the way through, or because I have tattoos and piercings? I think you would be. For the most part I don’t go to school with bad breath and crusty eyes. I might go in pajamas about half the time. The point is that it’s my prerogative.  The point is that this is a bigger issue that doesn't just affect mothers. The point is that I don't need an excuse to dress in any way I choose to. I am proud of the mother I am, and I have taught my children be proud of themselves, but the pride I teach them to feel is based off of their hard work and ability to treat other people with respect and kindness. It has nothing to do with the clothes on their back.

If your prerogative is to look a certain way everyday then go ahead, I'm happy for you, but don’t write a judgmental article giving moms another reason to feel bad about themselves. The only problem in these situations, Jodi, is judgmental glances and whispers from uptight women like you. My kids know that I value them, that I value myself, and that my self-worth is no higher or lower when I choose wear Hello Kitty pajamas to school. And when I get those judgment glances from mothers like you while dropping my kids off at school I smile at them bigger and feel thankful for my ability to be a great mother, and the maturity to see the bigger picture. 

Sincerely, 
Ashley Rainsbarger



To read Jodi's article click here.

I'm 28. No, wait. I'm 27.

At what age do you forget how old you are? The answer for me is 27. A few days ago Charles and I were walking at the Y and for some reason my age came up.

"I'm 28." I said. "No, 27. No, 28. Wait. How old am I?"

And then I had to do the math to figure out that I'm 27. I think I've been so caught up in realizing that I'm on the downhill slide to 30 that I can't remember how old I really am.

By the way, my true self knows that there is nothing wrong with aging. But my ego self is like, "Damn. I'm almost 30."

My Babies Aren't Babies

This is how they are going to stay in my head forever. Just sayin'.

We Miss You Grandma

Grandma passed away a week ago today. Last week was a blur but I am relieved to know she is at peace. The kids are doing really great with it. I think they are not quite old enough to really be sad about it and that's fine with me. We should celebrate her life and not mourn her death.

You were our guardian angel on earth, and now in heaven. We love you so much, grandma!

This is the slideshow I made for her funeral:

Grandma's Movie