Lil' Cornbread is in the House
Lil' Cornbread. That's my rapper name. I found out through my friend Deja's Ruddick's LulaRoe facebook group. It was possibly the best thing that happened to me that day.
I've been doing the mom thing lately. Heavy on the mom thing. Making lunches for school, forcing my children to brush their hair in the mornings, looking for shoes before we go anywhere, managing tantrums about homework, enforcing chores, and occasionally making dinner. Usually Ian makes dinner, which is awesome, but sometimes I do it. I know, you're impressed. It's impressive.
On the particular day of my name giving, I made a crock-pot of pinto beans, and a double batch of cornbread. My kids freaking loved this meal. They put cheese on those beans and went to town with the honey and butter on the cornbread. Not only was the meal on the cheap, but it was received with enthusiasm. The graphic where I got my name ended up being Lil' and the last thing you ate together, and that is your rapper name. I'm Lil' Cornbread. In the moment of beans and cornbread feasting, I thought,"I am really rocking this mom thing." And I was.
Today I do not feel that I am rocking this mom thing. Last week I left my daughter at a football game. My house is a complete mess---dishes are everywhere. My van looks like we eat out for every meal, which we don't so why does it look that way? I can't figure out what my schedule looks like anymore, even though I was doing so good with my writing the first few weeks of school.
Today, I got my kids to school and then curled up back in bed for two hours.
Reason? I had to scrape the ice off my windshield. At least, that's what I think the thing was. Bass Pro also purchased Cabela's yesterday and my husband has been working lots and lots, and I don't know what it means for our future employment, housing investment, and the future of the people in the town we live in. I'm going to stick to the ice on the windshield story, because I can just start my car a few minutes early next time and solve that problem. The other thing is out of my control, and may just swallow me up in a anxiety and depression ridden black-hole of darkness.
In my aloneness in getting the kiddos ready for school today, several of them mismanaged their time and didn't get breakfast. My oldest daughter forgot her lunch (again).
My deficit for the school lunch account is increasingly in the negative due to this sort of behavior. I think it is negative $40.00, and counting. She probably forgot it because she was a) looking for her French horn (which we decided was probably already at school) and b) whining about her reading log. She is required to read a certain amount of minutes every day. I think it is 30 minutes. It is not a problem for her at all. She has a 30 minute ride on the bus to and from school every day. She reads the entire time. That's at least an hour of reading time. She reads more when she gets home. I have to tell her to put her book down at dinner time. She reads while she jumps on the trampoline. She reads at night before she falls asleep. I estimate she reads three hours a day. The girl reads. However, for some reason, this whole reading log thing is a huge obstacle for her for the following reasons a) summarizing is not her strong suit. We have to remind her that a summary needs to be shorter than the actual content b) she remembers every detail c) she reads so much that she doesn't keep track of how many minutes she reads d) she feels dishonest reporting inaccurate numbers of reading e) she reads so much it is literally impossible for her to summarize in the small space provided. Last year, as one of the best readers in her class, she got a C in reading, due to the fact of not turning in reading logs. This school year, if she doesn't turn in her reading log, she loses electronics for the week. Not because the reading logs in and of themselves matter, but because we all have to do things we don't like.
Lil' Cornbread is in the house. The messy, disorganized, chaotic, and sometimes crock-pot cooking house.
I've been doing the mom thing lately. Heavy on the mom thing. Making lunches for school, forcing my children to brush their hair in the mornings, looking for shoes before we go anywhere, managing tantrums about homework, enforcing chores, and occasionally making dinner. Usually Ian makes dinner, which is awesome, but sometimes I do it. I know, you're impressed. It's impressive.
On the particular day of my name giving, I made a crock-pot of pinto beans, and a double batch of cornbread. My kids freaking loved this meal. They put cheese on those beans and went to town with the honey and butter on the cornbread. Not only was the meal on the cheap, but it was received with enthusiasm. The graphic where I got my name ended up being Lil' and the last thing you ate together, and that is your rapper name. I'm Lil' Cornbread. In the moment of beans and cornbread feasting, I thought,"I am really rocking this mom thing." And I was.
Today I do not feel that I am rocking this mom thing. Last week I left my daughter at a football game. My house is a complete mess---dishes are everywhere. My van looks like we eat out for every meal, which we don't so why does it look that way? I can't figure out what my schedule looks like anymore, even though I was doing so good with my writing the first few weeks of school.
Today, I got my kids to school and then curled up back in bed for two hours.
Reason? I had to scrape the ice off my windshield. At least, that's what I think the thing was. Bass Pro also purchased Cabela's yesterday and my husband has been working lots and lots, and I don't know what it means for our future employment, housing investment, and the future of the people in the town we live in. I'm going to stick to the ice on the windshield story, because I can just start my car a few minutes early next time and solve that problem. The other thing is out of my control, and may just swallow me up in a anxiety and depression ridden black-hole of darkness.
In my aloneness in getting the kiddos ready for school today, several of them mismanaged their time and didn't get breakfast. My oldest daughter forgot her lunch (again).
My deficit for the school lunch account is increasingly in the negative due to this sort of behavior. I think it is negative $40.00, and counting. She probably forgot it because she was a) looking for her French horn (which we decided was probably already at school) and b) whining about her reading log. She is required to read a certain amount of minutes every day. I think it is 30 minutes. It is not a problem for her at all. She has a 30 minute ride on the bus to and from school every day. She reads the entire time. That's at least an hour of reading time. She reads more when she gets home. I have to tell her to put her book down at dinner time. She reads while she jumps on the trampoline. She reads at night before she falls asleep. I estimate she reads three hours a day. The girl reads. However, for some reason, this whole reading log thing is a huge obstacle for her for the following reasons a) summarizing is not her strong suit. We have to remind her that a summary needs to be shorter than the actual content b) she remembers every detail c) she reads so much that she doesn't keep track of how many minutes she reads d) she feels dishonest reporting inaccurate numbers of reading e) she reads so much it is literally impossible for her to summarize in the small space provided. Last year, as one of the best readers in her class, she got a C in reading, due to the fact of not turning in reading logs. This school year, if she doesn't turn in her reading log, she loses electronics for the week. Not because the reading logs in and of themselves matter, but because we all have to do things we don't like.
Lil' Cornbread is in the house. The messy, disorganized, chaotic, and sometimes crock-pot cooking house.
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You are awesome and just like every other mom. We all spend our days worrying that our efforts aren't enough but they are. A month ago I had a moment after my cousin died where I really glimpsed what it might be like to leave this world behind. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the love I had for my family. My messy house didn't matter. My many shortcomings didn't matter. Our financial anxieties didn't matter. Just all the love. That's it. I am trying to remember that while I move forward with this life.
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