Why moming is the best

 I haven't traveled the world, and I haven't solved any of society's largest problems. I haven't published a widely-acclaimed masterpiece and I certainly haven't done anything you could consider particularly notable.
I have, however, parented, and doing that, being a mom? Is, in my honest opinion, a better and more important thing than all of the above.
I had goals for my life before I got married. I wanted to study abroad and I wanted a Master's degree. I wanted to find a career I felt passionate about and make a difference in the lives of those around me.
And though I never got to go abroad, and still haven't gone back to college, I did find a passion in taking care of my little ones and set a goal of making a difference for good in their lives.
My oldest is two, my youngest three months. And caring for them while balancing a full time career to make ends meet? Is probably the most challenging thing I have ever tried to do in my life.
I have moments where I feel like I'm succeeding brilliantly (this usually involves moments where I actually get dressed and get out of the house or do some kind of random craft, game or activity), and moments where I feel like I couldn't fail much worse (children crying, no work getting done, at my wit's end), but I'm learning every day that the most important thing is I keep trying.
Parenting is hard work. It's dirty work at times, and it's work where you seldom can truly evaluate how well you're doing. But I feel like real success comes when you stop trying to force everything to be perfect and go as you think it should, and mostly just embrace the chaos.
I had one of these moments last night, when we made the effort to actually get our toddler to bed on time. Jammies and brushing teeth were checked off the list and it was time for "story and song and off to bed" according to the Daniel Tiger way of life.
Yet the little one was running around the house with her water gun, chasing the cat and pretty much having a grand old time.
Finally rounding her up for stories, she complained about every story we picked, talked through most of them, and was this ridiculous ball of energy nowhere near letting exhaustion consume her.
Trying to press the issue, she literally went ballistic and to keep her from waking the baby with her anti-bedtime shrieking, my husband took her to our gigantic closet to help her cool down.
And for the first time, I laughed. Because it was so ridiculous, but to her it was everything to stay up late with us. I laughed because I had already cried and I didn't know what else to do.
She's sleeping now, no hint in her being of the crazy, possessed and hysterical two-year-old that surfaced last night. She's peaceful and beautiful. She's passionate.
Moments like last night's epic bedtime battle take me to my limits. They make me feel like a horrible mom and that if I was doing things right, we wouldn't have these problems. But they also remind me of how amazing being a parent really is.
I learn from my children. From their passion and focus. I learn to laugh and let go. I see all my flaws bubbling to the surface and am presented the opportunity to do something about them.
I cry and have my tears wiped away by my tiny girl, who frantically hugs me, trying to take the sadness away.
I get messy. I giggle. There's nothing better than a tear-stained toddler giggling because she tooted.

Being a mom is the most awesome thing ever. And it's not just because I have really cool kids, though that definitely contributes.
It gives me time to look outside myself. To focus on others. And it's created a whole new side of me. One that appreciates things like a well-timed toot. Or the brutal honesty of a tiny child. Or even poop. Poop is awesome, and the excitement our little girl radiates when she successfully lands one in the toilet? Best thing ever. I even don't particularly mind when my hands are covered in poop because the tiny one has launched yet another poop-splosion.
I love my little girl's face covered in frosting because I won mom of the year by letting her have three mini cupcakes. I love how my son smiles with his entire being just because I looked at him. I love the mounds of dirty diapers he creates because I'm glad he's here to create them.
I love my messy life. My imperfect perfection. I love my shift in perspective and my constant reminders that sometimes all it really takes for things to feel better is a well-placed Band-Aid.
We grown-ups, we overcomplicate things. But my two-year-old? She gets it. In the most utterly perfect messy-hair-don't-care, golden curls flying, passionate and enthusiastic way. Maybe someday I can grow up to be just like her.

The DMV

What kind of blog would this be if there was only one awkward post about how I’m a writer but … not really a writer? And what kind of a writer would I be if I never actually got around to writing anything other than a little intro about my aspirations when it comes to moming and writing? And not actually writing anything?

So to start things off write… I mean right. Let’s have a little chat about an adventure I took on last week with my husband and two kids in tow. Maybe some day I can use it for fodder for a book. But probably a comedic book, because today I’m going to write about going to the DMV (the Department of Motor Vehicles for those who don’t speak in acronym), and, well, children don’t generally go to the DMV since they don't drive, so writing a children’s book about the DMV? Can’t be a thing.

Let’s start with some foundation though, before I talk about our visit. I’m originally from Idaho. Land of the potatoes. But I don’t live there now. In fact, I haven’t lived there for more than a few days at a time since 2011, so I guess that’s kind of six years ago, and it was definitely past time to update my driver’s license since I’ve been married, oh, only like FIVE years and my license and therefore all my bank and credit accounts were in my maiden name, despite the fact I have two children and a kind of awesome husband.

You see, in Idaho you can renew your license for pretty much forever. So, if you’re planning on becoming a vampire, you should probably move to Idaho. By the time you finally renew your license again, all the people who used to work at the DMV will have either died or moved on with their lives and they’ll never even notice you aren’t aging.

Anyway, a couple days before my 21st birthday in (this is going to date me) 2009, I headed to the DMV for my license and have had an “under 21” formatted license ever since.

Since it wasn’t expired, I didn’t see a point in making a switch to a Utah license, especially since I was still going to college and my address wasn’t exactly what you’d call consistent. Then we bought a house, and subsequently a car and right before that I had a baby and lost my license… wait what? Yeah, no. Anything official requires state ID. I dare you to try buying a car then withdrawing your down payment with nothing but a photocopy that your work took of your driver’s license. I feel like I should  win an award for somehow managing that. But after the fiasco, I knew it was finally time to just bite the bullet and convert to a Utah driver’s license.

After a quick phone call and dutiful web search, I surmised that heading to the DMV earlier in the day would decrease my chances of an hours long wait with two children and a hangry mommy, because don’t we all get that way when we’re tired and stressed? Don’t tell me if you don’t. Because I need to pretend you can relate.

The lot was pretty full when we rolled up on our new wheels, and yes, that deterred me. But when my husband went and asked someone that worked there what kind of wait we’d experience (this is after he went in and looked at how many chairs were full – an assessment not quantitative enough to fill my need for details), and the answer was about five minutes? Well, I know divine intervention when I see it, and light from Heaven was shining all over that DMV.

As my two-year-old tossed her miniature basketball all around the lines upon lines of plastic chairs, giggling wildly, my husband and I took turns filing out the necessary paperwork for my state switch and his renewal, you know, because we’re all or nothing.

The first and fastest thing to happen was a trip to a booth to get our new pictures taken. I wonder if this is first to deter people from going through the whole process. You know, they take your picture at the beginning and it’s so bad that you have to stop for a minute and decide if you really, truly want to drive if that’s what you’re going to be looking like on your ID for the next couple years.

I don’t know, maybe that’s also why Utah’s driver’s licenses expire faster than Idaho – the pictures are SO bad, and on the off chance they’re good, then no worries, they’ll replace it with a bad one really, really soon. I’m fairly confident Utah DMV pictures are a contest to see how bad they can make you look.

We all know the tricks. Ruffle your hair. Keep your chin tilted up to flatten out any additional chins. Smile just enough that you don’t look stoned but not enough to make you look creepy…

And yet the second I saw my picture, there it was. Another chin. Not to mention my smile was turning down in the corners to look like a nasty little frown. And my husband, who at least I consider to be ridiculously attractive, same story. So I have this conspiracy theory.

Though everyone complains about how bad their driver’s license photos are, I wager that each DMV is equipped with a photo editing program. They take your picture, and the program automatically expands your face to make you look 20 pounds heavier, then they have a second chin they install on everyone’s photo because uniformity.

Unfortunately, after getting our photos taken, we did decide to finish the process and make our licenses official. Since I was switching states, I had to take the 25 question open book test, and yes, I double checked almost every single answer because wouldn’t it be awful if I failed because some crazy Utah stop sign didn’t actually have eight sides?

The bulk of my answers, which I submitted while my toddler was trying to take her own driving test at the computer next to me (don’t judge) and my husband was changing our two-month-old’s poop-splosion, were related to drinking and driving and the implications of that – questions that someone who’s never had a sip will probably never need to know but, who knows, because even driving sober in Utah is pretty dangerous since people here are notorious for bad driving.
Which brings me to another, more circuitous thought: people here drive poorly because they're not actually licensed because they don’t want to look horrible on said licenses…

Anyway. I survived. And if I ever get pulled over, you can bet that double chin and scowling smile will be making some officer somewhere feel so bad for me I might just get off with a warning. That, or it’ll make him think I’m on drugs, which I guess means it’s a good think I know all about how those laws relate to driving.

Here’s to hoping your next license photo turns out better than mine.

I'm a writer but ...

I’m a writer. And by that I mean I’m writing a children’s book. And … by that I mean I WILL write a children’s book. At some point. Maybe. I think.

The funny thing is, I never really had any desire to write a children's book until lately. It wasn't something I just woke up wanting to do, but more something I feel like I'm supposed to do, and that's a good enough reason for me to put it on my bucket list. But for now, if anyone asks, I'll probably tell them it's been a lifelong dream. Because that sounds more legit.

Did I mention I started a blog? Ummm, well… I WILL start a blog. As soon as I can figure out what to call it. And I’ll paste this onto it when I get to that point because I feel like with blogging, you need to do it just write… I mean right. Until the children's book happens, I'm hoping the blog will serve as a good deposit point for anecdotal stories, funny flashbacks and those "is this really happening?" moments, because let's be honest, those happen to everyone.
But I'm not just writing a children's book and a blog. I'm actually already a writer if you want to get technical.

For reals though. My paycheck is deposited into my bank account every other week because at this point I really, truly do write.My name is Kari and I work as a journalist. That’s what I got my degree in, and that’s what I’ve been doing, to a certain extent, ever since. No, I don’t write “fake” news, and no, my content is not simply erupting with bias. I am “the media” that everyone talks so mean about on Facebook. But actually, I’m a features writer. Because though I do believe in writing general and breaking news that’s accurate and so balanced that you can’t tell what side I’m on, I actually prefer to stay away from the controversial hullaballoo and write about really cool people who do really cool things.

I promise that’s not why I’m writing about myself right now, though.

I’m a writer but … I haven’t actually written a book yet. Or even a blog (or at least not this blog in particular). Just 258309127943 articles on people in YouTube videos or who have actually done the really cool things they said they’d do, like writing a book. I’ll get there though. Someday.

Right now, however, I’m writing because I’m a mom. And that’s all I want to be. A writer, yes, because once you’re one of those, that doesn’t go away. But mostly I just want to be a mom who gets to mom and do mom things, pretty much moming all the time without having to write constantly to make a paycheck be deposited into my bank account. Just only writing when I really want to or feel overwhelmingly inspired to do so or just when I think it would be fun to have an army of random internet people who might relate to the random things I’m doing because, well, life. 

So yeah. I’m a writer but … I still need to get around to that writing part, at least when it comes to writing a book. Please don’t hold it against me, though. I’ll do it as soon as I figure out what to write about. And until then, here’s the blog. That I apparently finally started if you’re reading this.
I guess that makes me a blogger. But I write. I’m a moming, writing blogger and someday I might even write a children’s book. We’ll see.