A decade is simply a word …

I don’t come to And 2 Makes Crazy often — my life in Poland turned into the mundane. My children grew bigger. My sanity slowly returned. And, yet, despite it all, life really hasn’t slowed. Life hasn’t gotten less crazy #worldpandemic, and, truth be told, we are still 2 — 20 years married now (YIKES) — and we still drive each other crazy. Er. I mean, we’re both crazy. Two and Crazy. Hence the title.

But, through it all, as the world spins, and time seems to fade away, my heart still remains my heart. And that will never change.

Even in a decade.

As October’s golden sun and brilliant leaves grace the skies and grounds – and we head into a month of thankfulness, I remain, forever, indebted to the littlest heartbeat of all for soul-crushingly teaching me the truths of life, delicate life, and love that has absolutely no end.

Xo from here to you!

B

www.facebook.com/729244049/posts/10159312298089050/

What do you do?

I keep people alive every day.

Some professionals call this a doctor.

I keep people out of trouble. Even prison.

Some professionals call this a lawyer.

I have a 24-hour food service.

Some businesses call this an all-night diner.

I make sure individuals are eating properly.

Some professionals call this a nutritionist.

I provide full-service cleaning of home and garden.

Some businesses call this Merry Maids. Others Lawn Services.

I organize an entire empire, guaranteeing the success of my subordinates.

Some professionals call this a CEO.

I listen to hurts and pains and help guide to a healthier and stronger emotional well being.

Some professionals call this a psychologist.

I pray with, for, and share scriptures with those in attendance.

Some professionals call this a pastor.

I even democratically rule my own country…with the strong use of Veto when necessary.

Some would say that I am a self-appointed democratic monarchy—ruling both the party and the crown. Therefore, calling me simultaneously Mrs. President and HRM the Queen.

Yes, many professionals and businesses may give me many names…

But, for those under my roof, they simply call me mom!

The Day After Mother’s Day…

The day after Mother’s Day…all celebrating done.

The children all messy.

My hair in “the bun”!

The day after Mother’s Day…it is really true.

The children, once again, forget all about you (me too!).

The day after Mother’s Day…my coffee is old.

No one made me breakfast.

Everyone has a cold!

The day after Mother’s Day…it is really true.

Mother’s Day High…Like the sugar-rush flu!

The littles are crying – the teen is a mess.

PE clothes forgotten, the kitchen (don’t ask!).

The day after Mother’s Day…it comes all too soon.

Will our flowers last…Will they still bloom?

We need the reminders.

Oh, yes, it’s true…

That we do more than wipe bottoms.

And wash hands after poo.

The day after Mother’s Day…

It is not as divine.

Because they didn’t make breakfast or write me a rhyme.

They forgot about yesterday and my crown of glue and gold.

Sparkles and glitter.

Like I said—(big EMPHASIS) my coffee has gone cold!

But the day after Mother’s Day, they are still all mine.

And even though the windows are dirty (just like their behinds), I will remember to choose to smile because I know that it’s true…

Next year they will celebrate me, their mother, too!

(Right???)

Only 364 more days to prepare me a treat.

Hop to it, you children…

While I put up my feet!

-Insert: Crash; Bang; Boom-

***

Happy Day After Mother’s Day!

(smile and wink)

 

 

 

“Stop crying or I will,” the Mom threats (that we all deny doing)

My 4-year-old was dramatically protesting SOME very unfortunate (obvious to her only) mistreatment in her life…

And she was doing it at a loud wail.

With a bunch of pitchy screeches.

It was enough.  I was trying to work, and I couldn’t concentrate at all.

So, I did what all moms always say they will NEVER do but ALWAYS do (see the hilarity right there).  I shouted from the other room…

STOP CRYING RIGHT NOW OR I WILL EAT YOUR CHOCOLATE!

Oh, no.  I didn’t stop there.  I went on…

Is that crying I still hear?

Crying is getting a bit softer, but there is a bit of remaining whining…

That’s IT!  I’m getting up right now to go and get your chocolate.  I will eat every last bite!  Don’t make me do it!

Silence.

Ah, man!

I was actually looking for an excuse to eat chocolate.

Smile.

Wink.

#momtruth

No Coca-Cola, please…

Photo from pixabay

So, there comes a time in your life when you REALLY … I mean really have to reevaluate what goes in your mouth because it does not all come out on the other side.

In fact, where once it would magically disappear, it now finds your thighs.  And your arms.  And your belly.  It even finds your neck and your cheeks.  Heck, it finds BOTH sets of cheeks.

Yes.  Where once you could eat whatever you wanted, the time will always come where that is no more.

Mine didn’t hit at 30.  It didn’t hit at 35.  Or 36 when I had Max.  In fact, after Max, I had only about 10 pounds left to lose when I got pregnant with Josephine (10 months after Max).  So, I was pretty sure it would be okay with Josephine.

And then 40 hit.  And it didn’t matter if I ate 1 potato chip or the entire bag, it all seemed to find a place .

For me, it’s pretty much on what Max and Jo literally, lovingly call my “squishy belly…”  In fact, they are so cute about it as they proclaim daily, “MOMMA, we LOVE your squishy belly!  It’s like a squishy pillow!  Oh, you’re so squishy…”

And they go on and on and on and on…I could so “SQUISHY” them after awhile, eh?!  (smile and wink)

Anyhow, all of this to say that I have officially decided to not drink “as much” soda as before.  Try not to eat as many cookies as before.  Avoid chips, when possible (smile smile wink wink again).

Therefore, when my husband was leaving to go grocery shopping, I told him to not bring me a Coke.

Proud moment, right?!

Too short, unfortunately, because then I followed it by saying, “But don’t forget the whipped cream for my coffee!”

HAHAHA!

Seriously.

I did.

And, with that, I have come to the deep conclusion…

What is life, anyway, without a little whipped cream?

Go, whipped cream, find my thighs.  They are waiting for you.

Bring on my coffee!

(insert whipped cream can aerosol-like spray and a happily sighing, coffee-slurping momma)

 

That’s why Moms were invented…

Disclaimer in case you like my husband better than you like me (smile and wink)… he knows I am writing this.

In fact, on the day that it happened, he was batting 0 all day long but my list of “What to blog” kept getting bigger and longer and funnier.

Hopefully I’ll come back to all of them.  But today I’ll start with this one…

The day started with me on the countdown: 3 more days until Richard leaves me in a little farming village and travels to the States for a month.  THEREFORE, I am going to lie in bed past time for kids to get out of bed…and daddy is going to get ALL 3 kids to school.

Now, to be fair to my husband, he is usually the one to feed, pack their bags, and drive them to school.

Wait?  What do you do?

I don’t know, honestly.

Maybe help choose clothes, comb their hair, and provide kisses???

I definitely get the coffee going.

In any case, it seems when moms are around (even if all we are doing is drinking coffee) the house just seems to be kept from burning down.

We notice things.

So, I roll down the stairs at a very lazy 9am.  Kids in school.  Husband back to work in his office.  And that’s when I smell it.

Plastic.

Burning.

On my kitchen table (that I painted, btw).

Yes.  The decade+2 daughter’s straightening iron was piping hot—burning a hole right through my adorable Easter bunny placemat (See, right there—that’s what I do!  I decorate for the Seasons and make the house feel “happy”.  Phew!).

I grabbed the iron, unplugged it (much too late, unfortunately, to save its life as the plastic had now become one with the iron), stuck it somewhere safe, picked up the placemat, got rid of the burning plastic smell by opening all the windows, made sure the wooden table had not yet become victim to the “iron” and walked past my husband saying, “That’s why moms were invented.”

Do you know what he said?

“I didn’t even know the iron was still on…”

Of course not.

Because, while he may be packing their bags, and second breakfast snacks, and feeding them breakfast and taking them to school, I am drinking my coffee and making sure the house is still standing.

And sending them off with kisses.

The best reason why moms were invented.

Now, back to my coffee…

(smile smile wink wink!)

 

My Average Child…

“Average Ada” age 2 at the NLC

Keep soaring, our girl!

I can seriously not stop laughing.  My daughter, my firstborn, my pride and utter joy has written two different things that she would like me to help edit.  The first is part one of a children’s book—seriously the cutest book ever.  Can’t wait to share it with you here!

And then.  Then there is her resume.  My daughter is saving all of her gift and babysitting money to buy a phone.  But, as we all know, phones are very expensive.  Well, my little ray of sunshine, my decade plus 2 daughter, will see her Nana and Papa for a few weeks this summer, so she has decided to submit a resume for them.  On her resume, which I won’t share the entire thing, she wrote:  Average student.  If that was not brutally honest enough, the rest would make you laugh out loud.

Things such as:  Good at—Loving her grandparents.  And so much more.

My “Average Daughter” is just so ABOVE AVERAGE in the good feels department!

And, to be fair to her, she studies in the Polish language, all her subjects.  So those average grades are really QUITE impressive for me 😉  Her father and I will take them, at least!  I can barely help her study for her History or Science tests (no smile and wink here).

Oh, my average daughter, I love you so average PLUS much!

Thanks for bringing sunshine to my EVERY DAY!!!!!!!

 

Bucket List? Become a Musher!

Okay.  So, technically, I had to look up the word Musher.  And really figure out what it meant.  I mean, we went dog sledding.  That one is obvious.  Musher.  I mean, I am a mommy, I am a “Professional Musher” of mashed potatoes, right?  That sounds like a musher.  You know, like smashing a lot of potatoes so they are mushy and buttery and delicious.

Or I love my children so much my daughter sighs, rolls her eyes, and proclaims, “Oh, Mommy, you are SO MUSHY!”  Making me a Musher Mommy, right?

Well, according to the real dictionaries my Mommy-ition of Mushers is all wrong.  Apparently a Musher is a driver of a dog sled.

So, I am happy to report that as of nearly 1 week ago, I have become officially (for an hour) a real-live Musher.

Also joining the “Musher Nungesser Crew” are:  Richard (the dad), Adelyne (the decade plus two eye roller), Maxwell (the Half-Musher as he helped the Main Musher French Fred), and Me (Brookie—the Mommy Musher).  Josephine was not a Musher.  She was a Musher’s company—meaning that she was plopped into her daddy’s front part of his sled and got to enjoy the VERY bumpy ride.  Good thing Daddy Musher did not tip, eh?!

Anyhow, dog sledding was an absolute and lovely blast that I highly recommend for all!

You first have to arrive where all of the dogs are chained up (just like in Iron Will) and then prepare with the instructions of driving your sled.  Let me tell you, I nearly wanted to be a passenger after the mini-Mushing-class (kid you not timid smile and nervous laugh inserted here).

Our instructor, Elizabeth got out a sled and said, “OKAY!  Here is your brake.  It is VERY important.”

Yes, Elizabeth—you were SO right!  Holy COW!!!!  Know how to use your brake!

Then she said, “ALWAYS hold onto your sled.  IF YOU LET GO, THEY WILL LEAVE YOU AND THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO RUN AFTER THEM…In the mountains.  In the snow. ”

BRRRRR.  And, NO THANK YOU.  I don’t even run after my own children, much less DOGS!

Finally she said, “BE THE BOSS!”

Yeah, right!

Easy for a lady that WAS the boss of the dogs.

But, in the end.  She was right.  You had to be the boss or those crazy huskies would roll around on the snow and want to go whichever way the butterfly traveled.

Okay—so there weren’t really butterflies considering it was like 19F, but, whatever.  Those dogs were hilarious.

Therefore, not only did you have to be “The Boss” (Sorry, Springsteen) of the dogs, you HAD to…Like a MUST…know the lead dog’s name.  Without that name, the dogs following were like, “La-di-da-da-da!”

With the lead dog’s name and a rowdy, “Let’s go, Chaussettes (Socks),” the others would pop up and follow your Socks (literally, the name of my dog in French was Socks). Which would then give you an opportunity to “Woo-hoo” while holding on tight—at times, bending the knees for the little “pop” over the crazy hill so you could feel like you were a true Musher and sway with the sled (lest you fall off and then are dragged while HANGING on so your dogs don’t run away for like…ever).

And there you have it.  You have officially become a Musher. For an hour.

And the hour goes FAR TOO QUICKLY.  And you wish you had the whole day. And you loved every minute although you and your family laughingly recall the moments you almost went over the railing of the bridge or smashed into the tree or tilted to the extreme sideways as your dogs did not stay on the path but crossed the icy hill ahead of you to take a shortcut.  Those lazy dogs (smile and wink for the feistiness of the husky).

Yes.  All things that pretty much happened in your hour as a professional Musher.  Or your professional Bucket List kicker!

Which is, after all, what you just did!  Filled and kicked that Bucket List right up with an awesome experience that your GoPro actually recorded so you have evidence of every “Woo Hoo” and “WATCH OUT FOR THE BRIDGE” moment.

Life with children can sometimes be mundane.  Messy. Tiring. And well…a million other things.

But life with a Bucket List and littles keeps life #fresh and #exciting and #exhilarating.

And Mushing.  Yes, I recommend putting that one on your list.

As long as you #hangontight!

The beats of my heart!

Life can be lived in the simple moments of family and nature, enjoying two of God’s priceless gifts.

I reflect, and often, on how my life was once full of sorrow at the hope destroyed of a baby we lost, bitterness at a marriage struggling, fear of a son dying, and exhaustion that it all never seemed to end. Seasons that seemed to toil forever.

Then I see these perfect mountains and I count 3 perfect children and I see a man I admire most on this earth and I realize that time can pull you through all things.

And God was there, steadfast, through it all.

Silence and struggle does not erase quiet, infinite care.

God bless you and yours, our friends, in your seasons of life.

#hisloveenduresforever #greatishisfaithfulness

Let them fly…

I usually post on Facebook.  It’s my way to connect to my life, friends, and family that are far and away.

Today, however, I thought that perhaps my feelings may be needed here, too…After all, I know that I am not alone in this world, raising kids, and letting them go.

Here’s to you, moms and dads out there…Here’s to letting them fly!

Do you feel the same as I???

Brooke HJ Nungesser Facebook post from November 29, 2017

i dropped max off for school this morning and left him in the capable hands of his teachers GOING on a field trip. needless to say—i feel literally like crying.

this little boy that i thought would NEVER go to school is now heading into the real world alone (well—with school  )…without me to protect his every movement.

if you are a parent of a survivor, you feel the grip of my fear.

if you are a parent of an allergy kid, you feel the grip of my fear.

if you are a parent—you FEEL the grip of my fear.

how is it that we are to raise them and let them fly???

i want to clip his wings.

alas, he is off—in this world—exploring.

without me.

#itsabigbigworld #howdidiletgo #staywithmeforever #mymax#and2makescrazy #motherhood