Sometimes I get "the look" when I respond to the question, "Where do you work?" I work at home, full time, as a wife and a mother." I get the impression that most of the time people either feel sorry for me or think that I'm lazy. First of all being a full time mom is the farthest thing from being lazy. It is a 24 hour position, on call at all times, all holidays, 365 days per year. And you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. This "job" of mine is the most fulfilling, rewarding, and positive thing that I have ever experienced. I fill many roles at home..teacher, psychologist, advisor, nurse, chef, accountant, manager, secretary...and the list goes on. Heck, I am the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus all rolled into one. need to feel sorry for that "poor woman stuck at home" It's my choice and I love being with my children. As a matter of fact, I prefer them to most adults. Actually, my children's friends prefer me to most adults. I listen...I am interested. I am not off eating bonbons or getting my nails done at the spa. I am the one cheering them on at every accomplishment big or small...every baseball game, gymnastics event, dance production...or play. I am there for every tear, every rejection, fear, worry,or loss. So job is "stay at home mom" and I am darn proud of it.

I haven't updated this blog in the longest of times...but today I found the time...for my 10 year old daughter, Caroline.
I have never really thought about my writings or rantings as anything special, but I found her reading my old postings today asking me why I didn't write more this one is for her.
I'm ever so glad about the gap between my first and last child. This puts her brother at 19, almost 20. He's past the stage of Mommy hugs and playtime. I would have been awfully lonely at this stage if it were not for sweet little Caroline.
I consider myself lucky to be woken up by a bouncing, giggling, silly child most every that I often find camped out on the floor next to the bed before I can even get my teeth brushed every night. She always waits for me. It never makes me grumpy. It makes me smile. We do really silly things like make up infomercials, musicals, and put on, "The Big Momma Show"....all from our studio on top of the covers. My husband thinks we are incredibly zany. This dear child makes me laugh...and that laughter we share is worth every second, very memory.
I was watching her ride her little purple bike this afternoon thinking how quickly time passes. Her brother was off driving to a college lunch..her older sister just got her permit and was anxious to go just about anywhere...and then there was Caroline, content on her imaginary journey to the mountains. I would have done that. In fact, I did once upon a time.
Caroline still manages to manipulate her diet into mainly consisting of chicken nuggets, pizza, or mac and cheese...just like I used to. She talks to her stuffed animals and sings to herself a lot..just like I did. Most days her hair is a mangled mess within an hour, and she tends to mismatch her clothes in the oddest of ways...I knew a girl like that. Caroline won't let anything get past her..she questions, she is ambitious, theatrical, she dances without needing's like looking back in time. She's a sensitive little soul, just like me. Could there be any greater gift in this world then a child? I have been blessed to have three. And I am writing this to my Caroline to always remind her that NOTHING is more important then she is. Yea, I should be washing up, doing laundry or bills...but I'm watching her slide down the banister of the stairs trying not to peek over my shoulder for the millionth time...and what could be better?

No, those sounds are not coming from my bowl of Rice Krispies.

They are coming from me..every morning after I get out of bed. Ridiculous isn't it?

My Tempur Pedic mattress sure sucks.

But that's not really my point here. It's more the fact that I'm getting older..and quite aware of it.

Just this morning I merely leaned over to pick up two empty planters and BAM...the pain that shot down my back was absolutely one hideous bolt of hell. (I'm lying on my sofa waiting for my Advil to kick in as I type) Just last week I was playing some silly Facebook farming game, clicking away at my crops..only to wake up the next morning with something akin to tennis elbow. Who would have thought cyber picking a few fields of wheat would do me in?

Now it's nearing the end of March..real life planting time soon. At this rate after one day of digging Ill end up in traction. If I cant handle Farm Town what are my chances in my own yard?

Still, that is not my immediate problem. In about 32 minutes my dear hubby will be arriving home. It's our anniversary you see. We have been planning a quiet night out for weeks. Little does he know I'm going to need another Advil just to make it to the car. I dread attempting to get changed and gussied up. And my black high heels? Ugh. Wish I could wear flip flops. Just how I'm going to manage a lovely transformation from blobby, aching, gardening mom to stylish, attractive, wife I just don't know.

Clock is ticking..back is is limp...feet hurt. I really need help..a stylist or two..or three. I wonder if my 9 year old can manage my hair? Wonder if my son can give me a piggy back ride up the stairs? Maybe daughter number two can do my make up...although I might come out looking like scary goth eyeliner chick..with moussed up freak hair, an easy to slip into loose shirt, and white tennis shoes in the end. Gosh, I just scared myself.

Time to face the music, shove my belly poof into some high waisted jeans and build a back brace out of a few spare tree branches so I can sit up straight without wincing in pain.

It sucks to get older