Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and say, “Where’s (enter your name here) and what have you done with her”? Yeah, me either. Just checking. I’m Tasha. A 35 year old Mom of 3 kids. 2 boys and a girl. I’m a part time hairstylist and any other time I’m a hot mess, just trying to survive motherhood.
Let the truth bombs fall. I constantly fail at this Mom thing. I’d love to be the PTA president who bakes 3 dozen gluten free cupcakes everyday before school for my kindergartner to take to class. But the truth is, I am really a socially challenged, word stumbling introvert who would rather put jalapeno juice in my eyes than have to force small talk with a bunch of people I don’t know. Social anxiety is a thing. And it’s hot with this one. Also, I value sleep and gluten far too much to wake up and bake 3 dozen gluten-free cupcakes before school. So instead, I’m the mom in sweat pants at the bus stop, breathing heavily from running there because I forgot to make my son’s lunch the night before and we couldn’t find his left shoe until seconds before the bus arrived. Lovely to meet you.
I have no idea why God entrusted me with 2 insanely wild boys and the happiest little baby girl in all the land. But He did. So I must forge through the fire, like a warrior in battle. I WILL survive. Right!? At least that's what I say to myself, usually about an hour after I've been in the fetal position, locked in my closet. For real.
Recap: I have been married to my husband, Danny, for 7 glorious years. We are perfect for each other. Perfect as in complete opposites in every way. Which in turn gives us extra “opportunities” to work through “fun challenges” daily. Team work makes the dream work. And together we have a five year old son named Jack Danger. We'll get into that later. A four year old son named Charlie Cash, and our newest female addition, 9 months fresh, Nora Lane.
Kids are all I ever wanted. At four years old, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always "a mom". Awwwwww. Isn't that precious? Little did I know what my future husband and I were capable of creating.
Jack. 5 years old. Our first born. As a baby he was very serious, but content. You could put him anywhere and he would just kick his legs and babble. He didn't crawl until after his first birthday, didn't walk until 16 months old, and by 18 months he was jumping out of his crib, breaking bones and swinging from anything that would hold him. Danny had doubts about naming him "Danger", but I, I knew that was his name and I wasn't budging. He lives up to it on a daily basis. He’s decided he knows the answer to everything at his ripe age of 5 1/2. And he told me a couple days ago he can’t wait to grow up so he can be the boss. Understandable. But until then, I’ve earned that title for now. Lord help me with this one.
Charlie. 4 years old. The sweet one. The one who can sit through an entire show so I can shower or hide in a corner and drink my coffee in silence. Bless him. He now likes to tell me he wants a new Mom when I put the wrong kind of cheese on his sandwiches. Seriously, you mongrel!? He has huge dowie eyes, eyelashes that anyone would sell their soul for, and a dimple you want to bite off his adorable face. But don’t let his angelic appearance fool you. He’s also the kid that will drop a giant deuce in his underwear, right smack dab in the middle of the living room, while watching Jake and the Neverland Pirates. I. Don’t. Know. What. To. Do. With. Him. Anymore. All hope for a poop free floor/carpet/pair of undies has long left my dreams. I’m pretty sure he’ll be that kid in grade school that poops his pants in class and everyone will remember.....well into college.
Nora. 9 months. My bald beauty. She’s the happiest creature in this family. Always smiley, super excited to see you, let’s me dress her in ruffles and enormous bows. Basically my dream come true. I’m so thankful for a GIRL in this jungle of boys. It figures that God would give this hair stylist Mom a bald baby girl. But at least glitter and headbands are getting me through until the rogaine kicks in.
I just wanted to give you all a few golden nuggets to get to know me better. I hope this blog is a place for other parents to come and see that they are not alone. We are all in this together. Hands in the middle: BOMBING AT MOMMING ON THREE! 1, 2, 3.....All together now.....