We’re having deja vu here. Last year, we asked our kids what they thought of us. To summarize, Ellen’s kids thought she looked like this:

Erin’s kids thought she looked like this:

My Kids tell me I look like Betty Crocker

Yeah, that’s right. One of us got the better end of that stick, but nobody’s keeping score. Jealousy is an ugly thing even when you just can’t help it, and especially when Fate seems to treat one Sister like a princess and the other like, well, the ugly stepsister. Apparently,  Fate wasn’t finished doling out the special treatment either.

This year, Ellen didn’t have just a great Mother’s Day. She got an amazing Mother’s Day weekend. Friday night was tennis, wings, and a movie with her crew. Cue the Hallmark moment. Paint this, Norman Rockwell. In other news, I was busy decorating a gym for the eighth grade dinner dance.

But that’s not all. Ellen hates with the burning of a thousand suns going out to a restaurant to eat on Mother’s Day. The bad eggs combined with being crammed in like cattle and the inevitable case of food poisoning that results is a recipe for familial armageddon in her book. So her family, in deference to her wishes, all went out to eat on Saturday which is not only sheer genius, but a lovely gesture that proves she has not just been grumbling to herself the last 14 years. She had a lovely lunch with her girls and her mom and managed to avoid being felled by salmonella or e.coli.  Call Ripley’s Believe It or Not!

But the creme de la creme was her Sunday. Her Day of Blissful Nothingness began with her sleeping in way past her usual time when she was awakened to her family making her breakfast. At this point, her day morphed into the Day that Shizz Which Never Gets Done Got Did which any mom will tell you is way better than any old coffee mug or perfume. Her husband Frank who could be described as Husband-of-the-Year but never Mr. Handy-Around-the-House was in rare form. He trimmed bushes, pulled weeds, and even took out a small bush. Yes, Ellen did feel the tremor in the universe, but she decided to take it for what it was, a Mother’s Day miracle.

This is what a perfect Mother’s Day looks like!

Aww, shucks.

Erin’s Mother’s Day was, well, slightly more earthbound. We keep it real here.

On Friday night, Steve asked me, “So what do you want for Mother’s Day?”

Them’s words that make a woman wanna grab her gun and get moving!

Less than 48 hours until the big day and we’re still talking gift ideas!?  Hmmmmm.

So I countered with “A dog. Or a trampoline.”

Two soccer games, one track meet, and a middle dinner dance later, on Sunday, we were pointing the minivan westward to visit my family. After the 10th trip to pack the car, the crew was waiting for me with a beautiful plant for the front porch.

Aww, shucks.

But nothing says “I love Mom” like a trampoline, so we were on a mission. Because we live in the middle of a county with more cornfields than shopping malls, we stopped just long enough in the “big city” (Google Frederick, MD to really appreciate my hyperbole) to pick up our trampoline. As the men were loading our 400 pounds of trampoline into the trunk, they said, “Good luck getting that out!”  That is exactly the kind of humor we’re looking for when we’re driving with 7 people 4 hours round trip in 1 day. It’s the kind of math that makes you long for the days of algebra.

The rest of the afternoon was spent cousining at my parents’ house.  The following is a montage of images from that day.

We call this one, “Baby Licking Window”

We call this one, “Pile O’ Kids”

We call this one, “Twirly Girls”

I call this one, “Mama Love”

In many ways, the whole day was the sweet, cracked family moment I have come to expect. But when we got home, I got my real gift. My boys armed with headlamps and flashlights worked from the moment we got home into the night to set up my present for me. In case, you were wondering, true love looks like this. . .

Hope you all had a lovely Mother’s Day!

Erin and Ellen

By Ellen Williams Erin Dymowski

Kim from Let Me Start By Saying wrote an epic post How Being a Parent is Like Being a Rock Star. It plays so true. Check out this little sampling.

7. Groupies follow you to the bathroom.

But this got us to thinking, if we are rock stars, and oh hellz yeah we are, we need a band, right? But motherhood is ever changing, so the band that would be right for us today might not be right for us tomorrow. So without further ado . . .

1. Magnificent People Makers

So maybe we can agree Adam Levine is hardcore, but he’s not carry a baby in his uterus for nine months then rocket it out of of his body hardcore. That’s what we’re talking about. Shakira represent!

2. Crushed Colic Cowgirls

We would rather ride bucking broncos being chased by bulls with Thor threatening to strike us with his hammer than live through one more second of colic.

3. Weaning Breast Milk Blossoms

Plain White T’s are so 2000s;  drippy over-sized t’s are where it’s at. Ladies, let’s show our excitement for this trend! Don’t let us down!

4. Smashing Peas

Concerts would be epic. Can you imagine a mosh pit filled with pureed legumes?

5. Toddler Safety Patrol

Have you heard our hit song No-Stitches-No-Broken-Glass-No-Pennies-In-Outlets-No-Shaved-Cats-Ever-On-Our-Watch?

6. Playdate Punks

Sometimes this band rocks and sometimes it just makes your ears bleed.

7. The PTA Presidents

This band thrives on drama, back stabbing and passive aggression. We only want to see the new green apple Skittles in our bowl. Understand?

8. The Voices of Reason and The Hormonal Screaming Banshees

This band needs a lot of wine with a side of Jameson. Earplugs would also help-the voices of reason and the banshees could fight over them.

9. Biting Nails

We’re going to have to lay down some awesome tracks to get us through dating, driving, and college applications.

10. Conflicted Empty Nesters

Just hold us. We’re going to need some serious groupie love to get us through. And once again beverages. Of the pinot noir and whiskey variety. It appears the more things change the more they stay the same.

-Ellen & Erin

Thank you Stasha for inspiring us with the Monday Listicle topic  – Real or Imagined Band Names. Check out what everyone else rocked out with.

By Ellen Williams Erin Dymowski

Almost sixteen years into this parenting gig, kids still shock me. What they see. What they know. What they instinctively feel. On any given day, anything can be, and yet they surprise me in new and astonishing ways. Even still, I wasn’t ready for what I witnessed one day on the track.

About three weeks ago, I got this text:

I don’t care what people say about not reading tone into text. This text was an alarm bell, a siren, a scream. This text sent to me from Elsa, my neighbor who carpools with me to high school track practice, said to me in no uncertain terms to pick up the phone pronto. So I did.

And the story unravelled. Apparently, Elsa was at Defcon 5 with her son Danny who has autism. Anyone with a teenager knows that hormones alone can rain down the hurt and pain on even the happiest of families. Autism ratchets up that hormonal hot mess and takes it to levels even Dante couldn’t imagine. Elsa was in hell, her kid was hurting, and she needed answers. . . like thirty minutes ago.

Ace filled in the blanks. Apparently, none of the coaches had remembered to get Danny to his races at the meet and he missed them. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Hence, the monumental meltdown.

Now let’s put aside that this was not Danny’s first track meet. We have been carpooling with him for over a year. Let’s acknowledge that these coaches are not uncaring. They have recognized Danny’s efforts on the team with support and tangible rewards. They even gave him a most improved runner award last spring. So this is not the time for our litigious, self-righteous, holier-than-thou selves. This is where we stand back and recognize that this is what autism brings to the table. Confusion, miscommunication, and dropped balls all come part and parcel with kids bearing this diagnosis. That’s why we talk of hidden capes with absolutely no hint of hyperbole when speaking about the people who love them.

When we started our carpool last spring, we were grateful for the opportunity to help our neighbor, support Danny, and also, let’s be frank, split the drive time. We weren’t really expecting anything other than some savings at the gas pump and warm neighborly feelings, but that turned out to be just the beginning.

Good things happened. Ace and Danny developed a real bond. Danny started talking to me more. The boys were able to transition to hanging out in front of the school with all of the other athletes instead of being picked up at the track. After many years outside of my classroom, I had a chance to reimagine what the future could hold for the preschoolers with autism I had taught way back when. We were in a good place. It was a good fit. And carpooling gave me back valuable hours in my day.

But autism is an unforgiving highway with treacherous curves that you don’t see coming.  Getting closer to Danny meant that we were now navigating some of those blind turns with him. Like when this winter on a training run through a neighborhood, Danny was spooked by a dog and took off running scared. Ace ran an extra 3 miles trying to get him back to calm him down. I then spent the rest of the evening talking to my kid who was still worried about it long after he had unlaced his shoes.

And then there was the day that we thought we lost Danny. We couldn’t find him at school and Elsa couldn’t get in touch with him and his teachers didn’t know where he was. Ace tried to break into their house to see if Danny had somehow made it home early on the bus. We found Danny safe on the football field watching his sister’s band practice, but our hearts were still pounding with the What-Ifs.   We don’t begin to presume what life is like day in and day out with autism, but our peek into that world was sometimes scary.

And frustrating. Nobody was more irritated than Ace to hear that Danny had missed his events. All athletes deserve their moment to see what all that practice is for. Danny had put in the work. He earned the chance to prove himself against a clock and the other runners. It was JUST. SO. WRONG. in that black and white way that belongs to the world of teenagers and toddlers.

The next track meet was only two days later at a local rival high school. When we arrived at the meet, we immediately saw all of the kids on the field in the center of the track, including Danny and Ace.  Now I may have been distracted buying granola bars, chasing kids out from under bleachers, and teaching the kindergartener how to take pictures. Taking four siblings to a track meet ensures that you have brought the traveling sideshow.

But when I looked up for the first race, my breath caught. There was Danny being led to his first event by his teammates with nary an adult in sight. And it went on that way for the rest of the meet. They had this. Adults, step aside. Danny was not going to miss an event on their watch. To see the cloud of orange and black surround him and then deliver him to the starting line before EVERY race was a sight to see. And that’s what melted my heart, I think. The way they owned the situation and the way they acted. They were a team. Danny was their teammate. End of story.

Ace verified after the fact that there was no edict that had been handed down from the coaches. It was just a group of kids trying to do the right thing by their teammate.

Blame it on the beautiful weather that day after an abysmal spring. Blame it on a group on kids who fixed what was broken on their own. Whatever it was, I lifted my face to feel the warm sun and smiled like it was going it out of style.

If a tiny tear was in my eye,  you can never prove it. Anything can happen. Anything can be.

-Erin

 April is Autism Awareness Month.  The prevalence of autism has risen to 1 in 110 births, 1 in 70 for boys. Many of us have an autism story to share. This is mine.

By Ellen Williams Erin Dymowski

Mommy guilt. If a mother’s love stretches to the moon and back, her guilt zooms to Andromeda, twists itself into an origami sippy cup, snaps back to earth and smothers her like a smelly lovey blanket. Well, today is the day The Sisterhood is kicking that odiferous guilt quilt to the curb.

We all know THAT woman. The chick who spends an entire girls’ night out wringing her hands because she “should be home with her Baaaaay-by”. If you don’t know this woman you are either (A) Lucky or (B) THAT woman. But, honey, we are here for you! Repeat after us: “I need to recharge and work on my adult relationships. I am not a robot or a slave and, goshdarnit, other people besides my kids deserve my attention, including me.”

Time to start honoring, dare we even say relishing, the time we get to rejuvenate ourselves and our relationships or else we are just wasting everyone’s time.

Need some hardcore convincing? May we present . . .

1. Nobody wants to parent the center of the universe.

Conveying to your child day in and day out that she is the center of the world doesn’t give a very fertile place for humility and empathy to grow. And think about how it feels for your kid when all of your focus is on him or her. That’s a lot of pressure! We all have great expectations for our kids, but sometimes our micromanaging can become  stifling. A little time apart indicates to your child there are other things in your world and does everybody good.

2. If you let the kids take over, it’s gonna get ugly—for both of you.

Kids are need monsters who desire nothing less than complete domination of that kingdom we call home. But let’s get a little perspective—are you really going to let a little Napoleon prevent you from having some time alone? He just pooped his pants an hour ago, should he really be calling the shots? And besides, having that much power can be frightening. It is a little disconcerting to be able to prevent mom from going out the door by throwing a batcrap crazy tantrum. Boundaries are not punishments, they are an integral part of parental love.

3.   You need to love your partner more than your kids.

Boom.  We said it. You heard it. But really listen to what we’re laying down. Kids can’t take you dancing or give you a lovely night out or uncork the wine bottle. And they should never be your emotional bedrock. Your partner staked a vested interest in your happiness and well-being before you started this family. Offering some return on that investment will only pay dividends in happiness and emotional well-being for the whole clan.

4.  Your friends need attention too.

We all get by with more than just a little help from our friends. We aren’t just talking about carpools either. Good friends are like water and air and cheez-its (or is that just us?).   Acknowledging and honoring how essential these relationships are now means that your girls will still be there for you later. Like when you need help hiding a body.

5.  You need to honor yourself, your needs, and your dreams.

Kids need the best version of you. We are not talking about the perfectly waxed, superbly coifed, and supremely toned you. (Remember those days? We don’t.) We’re talking about the you that channels deep wells of Mother Theresa-esque patience, laughs in the face of Looney Tune-worthy antics, and leaps tall buildings in a single bound or at least has the energy for a decent game of yard soccer. We’re talking about the you that happens when you are rested, understood, and your soul is fed on a deep metaphysical level.

Soooooooooooo. . . .

If you want to get a babysitter to write your blog, take a run, or get a haircut, just do it. Volunteer to save woodchucks, write the great American novel or break out the cocktails with a friend. Honor your needs, because you need to recharge and only YOU know what is gonna make that happen.

On the flip side? Don’t Judge!

If other people are taking time, don’t judge. Take notes on how she makes it happen! There is no medal for this tour of duty. Let us tell you once and for all: You do not win any Mother of the Year trophies, because there is no competition!

If you get the chance to be away from your precious ones, don’t spend that time fretting about what is going on at home. If you’re not refreshed to tackle your mom job when you actually get back home, then it’s nobody’s fault but your own.  Girl, you know you’re back on duty the SECOND you walk through that door. Take your chance and run like hell or, in the beginning, baby step your way to a better, happier you.

Ignore the hassle in taking that first step. Go sit in a coffee house, grab a tapas with your girlfriends, or take an afternoon off to spend with a good book. They all offer you the same thing—a chance to do what makes you feel good. You will be a better mother for it, and these baby steps toward honoring yourself will prepare you for even bigger leaps like, gasp, going away with your husband. It’s work (we know the planning, the scheduling, and organizing can nearly kill you) but it’s worth it.

There’s a reason this is a saying: “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” Grab your slice of happiness today.

-Ellen and Erin

By Ellen Williams Erin Dymowski

Motherhood doesn’t just change your pants size, your shoe size, and your selection at Victoria’s Secret, Motherhood changes EVERYTHING.  And then it keeps on changing. ALL. THE. TIME. You will just get your parenting stride at a stage, and your little darling is sprinting on to the next one.

To those of you already sporting stretch marks, under eye circles, and the requisite Real-Moms-Take-This-Shizz-Everywhere hand sanitizer, you know we speak The Truth. You know what would make this whole Mom thing easier short of a trainer, an industrial strength leash, and an ironclad agreement with the relatives to babysit every weekend?? Some Sisters to show you the way.

Now we’ve heard there are some great parenting books out there, but, honestly, you won’t have time to read them. Remember what we said about the sprinting?? But we love books, so we took some inspiration from classic books and children’s books to label the stages of Motherhood for you. We did the heavy lifting, so fanfare, please. . .

1. War and Peace

The First Year

Now Erin has never actually read this book, but we heard that it concerns Russia. The title conjures what it feels like in the trenches of your first year with a new baby. It’s either bliss. . . or bombs raining down on you. Prepare to be delighted, completely decimated, and so deprived of sleep you could put on your husband’s underwear and think it’s your own or fall asleep mid-sentence. Not that either of these things has ever happened to either of us.

2. What Do People Do All Day?

The Second Year

Hope you like naming aloud everything you own, see, think, hear, feel, smell, flush down the toilet, etc. because that’s what baby likes. Oh, that’s not for me, you say, my kid’s just chillin’. Well, we say that clearly you have never been at the mercy of a newly mobile but vocabulary-limited tot. YET. They jonez for this stuff like miniature meth addicts cut off from their supplier. Buy every oversized, ridiculously detailed book you can find now to assuage the tiny beasts. Richard Scarry knows. He’s the toddler-whisperer.

3. Where the Wild Things Are

The Third and Fourth Year AKA The Terrible/Terrific Twos and Threes

These kids are adorable but nuts, with a little extra nutty on top. Every time we think back to when our houses were ruled by these fickle tyrants, there is a little catch in our throats. We  do miss our ladies who dressed as princesses or ladybugs every day and our lads bedecked in boots and capes. But it’s a dog-eat-dog world  in the Land of Tod and we’ll give you three guesses who’s their favorite meal. Come to think of it, Lord of the Flies works for this stage too.

4. Interrupting Chicken

The Funny Fabulous Fact-Filled Four Year Old

Erin is 100% convinced that she did not have her attention issues until she had to parent a 4 year old—FIVE TIMES! No sentences are finished, no thoughts completed, no work is done. The four year old runs the place like a miniature Napoleon or Attila the Hun and the only consistent thing he or she is serving up is questions. Note: When the 4 year old inevitably asks you where babies come from or why you and Daddy like to wrestle, deflect, defer, and lie your pants off. You have plenty of time to pay for future counselling.

5. Brave New World 

Kindergarten

This stage marks the end of an era and the beginning of a new one, so all that sniffling and carrying on you’re going to do is totally justified. Your baby belongs to the great big world now. And it’s a beautiful, terrible, amazing, nauseating, wondrous sight to see.

6. The Call of the Wild

Early Elementary School

Seriously, kids at this age are powered by sheer force of will and their wily, wily ways. If we could harness it, we would solve the world’s energy needs. Oh, yeah, and they are full throttle without the benefit of forethought or reason. Invest in Band-Aids and mercurochrome and wine.

7. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde

Late Elementary School

As a pre-cursor to the full-blown hormonal onslaught headed your way, Mother Nature gives you a little tapas of what’s to come. Honestly, a lot of the angst comes from having one foot in the Land of the Little Kid and the other in the Acreage of Adolescence, but that doesn’t mean that this stage isn’t sometimes going to keep you up at night or wrangling with each other during the day.

8. Something Wicked This Way Comes 

Middle School

Too dramatic? Maybe, especially when we both actually enjoy our Middle Schoolers and Erin loves teaching this age group. But storms are a-comin’, so you need to be ready to ride them out when they come AND to enjoy the calm seas in between the blow-ups.

9. Catch-22

Early Teen

Your tongue might actually hurt from all the times you will hold it. Happy, successful parenting with teens is all about choosing your battles, so often times you may get caught in senseless, absurd situations. We’ll take those over the scary stuff that also sometimes comes with the teen years, but none of it is easy. And <sniff>, you do sense your time together is shortening.

10. Great Expectations

Late Teen

Your baby’s getting ready to spread his or her wings, so there is great talk about the future and plans and what happens next. It’s all exciting and scary and nothing at all like what you imagined when you started this journey, oh so many moons ago.

And you will wonder how you got here so fast.

And then you’ll remember. Oh, the sprinting.

Don’t say we didn’t warn you! Erin and Ellen

Thank you to Stasha for more great Monday Listicle fun! Check out what others wrote or add your own list!

By Ellen Williams Erin Dymowski