Half Way to Moving Out

I recently read the following Facebook post by a mommy friend:

Today was…today...  “Jacob” turned nine today, and after getting in trouble for shooting a dart at his sister’s face, he felt the need to remind me that since he is now nine, he is half-way to moving out.

This made me both sigh and smile. Why are kids always so eager to grow up and move out? And (dare I admit) why am I sometimes so eager for them to move on with their life? It’s a crazy battle that plays out in all of our minds, depending on our mood and the number of “poop-head,” “booger-brains,” and “butt-face” labels slung about the house on any given day. I call these “white flag” days, and they generally end with Little Caesar’s pizza for the kids and a long, hot bath for me.

Now I have about as much expertise on this subject as the next middle-aged mom. I have nine “Jacobs” of my own, four of whom have already left home, with five more to go. Two live half-way across the country and two live half-way across town. Facebook, text messaging, email, and the good ol' telephone help, but I miss my "Jocobs" who have moved on, every single day.

 

As for the ones at home... Still too many "booger-brains" being flicked willy-nilly around our place for me to mourn the prospect of their leaving, but Paco and I do our best to deal with it all, one "booger-brain" a time. There are good days and there are white-flag days. Some days, one of our "Jacobs" figuratively stand at the front door with bags packed, prophesying impending freedom. Oh, the mixed emotions...

From the perspective of both parent and child (having lived both sides of this), leaving home is both wonderful and horrible. You have the freedom to fly, but now you have to flap your own dang wings—generally, a dilemma at one point or another.

 

As one prepares to set out into the wild blue yonder, society will be full of all sorts of helpful suggestions and conventional advice to commence this growing-up and moving-on endeavor--learn to balance a checkbook, change a tire, cook ramen noodles, blah, blah, blah... That's all important. But what I'd like to offer is the not-so-conventional advice to start our little "Jacob's" off on life's path. Here goes...

 

(Disclaimer--I take credit for none of these...but they all make me smile.)

 

Therapy is expensive. Bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.

 

To make a long story short, don't tell it.

 

If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.

 

A penny saved is...not much...so...

 

The quickest way to double your money is to fold it over, and stick it back in your pocket.

 

Unlike people, laundry should be segregated by color.

 

Two wrongs don't make a right, but three lefts do.

 

If you get a paper on your windshield that says "parking fine" it doesn't mean you did a good job.

 

Don't bite the hand that looks dirty.

 

And lastly...

 

Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.

 

 

So slow down. Enjoy the mystery. And did I mention, slow down???

 

One of my kiddos turns eighteen in a few months, and I'm already grieving this prospect. When he does leave, the balance will shift to more kids grown and gone than at home. Not sure I'm ready yet for this, but you know how the old saying goes: Ready or not...

 

 

Tamra Torero is Wife to Paco, Momma to nine, Grandma of two, Bakery Manager, author of Shayla Witherwood: A Half-Faerie Tale and co-author of a Christmas novel, The Lost Son, with her son, Preston Norton. The day her first son left home she cried for an hour straight, ate an entire box of fudge-covered Oreos...solo...then took in two stray dogs. When they refused to answer to the name, Preston or Punky Doodle she cried some more. Today, she finds herself half-way to an empty nest.

 

 

 

Kid Soup

I know, I know… The title makes me both cringe and smile in the same breath, but it's lodged into my slightly-twisted brain and won’t leave. Let’s just roll with it, eh? I’ll have you know, however, that there is some logic behind it (and no, nothing to do with the impending zombie apocalypse).

 

 

When my kiddos were little, we often read the old folk tale, Stone Soup, about a weary and hungry traveler with no means, who decides to prepare a meal by boiling a pot of water and tossing in a stone. Of course, this piques the curiosity of nearly every passer-by, who also toss in an ingredient—a carrot, a potato, an onion, etc.—until voila, a delicious soup is prepared. 

I’m a lot like that traveler. Not so much the hungry part unless you count today—day one (yet again) of mine and Paco’s latest diet—but the weary part, for sure. I seem to be continuously exhausted, and for the majority of any given day, I have one looming question on my mind: What-the-heck am I gonna make for dinner?

Although I’ve never considered starting with a rock, I have been known to toss in many’a random ingredient—each with its own unique, special, and sometimes unexpected flavor—to make a delicious soup or casserole for my gang. And somehow (for the most part) this hodge-podge of ingredients generally turns out pretty dang yummy.

And just as the weary traveler, Paco and I (the baker and the banker) have combined into our “pot,” a variety of personalities and characteristics—each unique, special, and some with an unexpected flavor or attribute—to make up this incredible blend of people we call our children.

Let me introduce them…

 

 

DETERMINATION came into my life 28 years ago and was the first of many to teach me about motherhood. Once a shy kid, he’s now a social rock star (when he wants) and in many respects an extension of me. “D” started writing his first novel at 16, and today has approximately eight finished manuscripts—two published, with another under review. He currently teaches junior high English, and will do so until the day his writing sustains him…which will be soon!

 

 

AMBITION arrived a year later and let my peaceful “D” know who was in charge. When she wanted something, she’d tackle it head on (in the early years, including “D” himself). Not only was “A” my earliest walker, she also taught herself how to ride a bike, do back handsprings, play the guitar, was the first to graduate from college and is now looking into grad school. Her strong will has served her well!

 

 

LOVELY is not only beautiful on the outside, but radiates that same loveliness within. Her kind and gentle heart serve her well in her own role as mommy. There's nothing that brings me more satisfaction as a mother than watching “L” mother her own boys—my grandsons. I can't help but beam inside at this sight.

 

 

STRENGTH is not only packed with muscles, but has a rock solid core, and I’m not referring to his physique, but rather his countenance or inner strength. He has competed internationally on the U.S. Junior Men’s Powerlifting Team, and can probably bench press a buffalo, but would tell you his greatest accomplishment is the two-year mission he’s currently serving. “S” is our gentle giant.

 

 

TALENT is oozing with abilities that never cease to amaze us all. He’s self-taught in both piano and art, and has honed his talent for acquiring requests from teenage girls desiring their portrait via his mad sketching skills. “T” has taken the art of flirting to a cultivated, whole new, and very literal level.

 

 

BELLISIMA (beauty) is my beautiful Peruvian rose. She came into my life as an 11-year-old and has literally blossomed before my eyes. As every rose (and every teenager), she can be as soft and delicate as a rose petal, but if not handled properly, the prick of a thorn might result. Most of all, “B” is strong—always able to withstand life’s storms as her roots grow deep and her limbs stretch far.

 

 

INTEGRITY radiates the qualities of honesty and moral principals. He is growing into a man of order and responsibility. “I” likes to be on time, and prepared—very much the boy scout that he is, but knows how to chill out and cut-loose when the mood strikes. He’s been known to have us all holding our gusts, laughing at the dinner table, and can do a pretty mean “worm” on any given dance floor.

 

 

CHARISMA is the spice of our great, big, integrated pot of kid soup. She is capable of being ten places at once, and charms, as well as entertains everyone simultaneously. “C” is proficient at maneuvering any given course of events into the direction she desires, so we believe inevitable success will be hers in a career in politics, Hollywood or both. Hey, if Arnold can do it…

 

 

And lastly, we add KINDNESS to the “pot”—our little dab of sweetness who’s always concerned with everyone and their feelings. The warmth of her hugs are healing, and the radiation of her smile, contagious; however, we were quick to discover that the combination of KINDNESS and CHARISMA could be a lethal duo.

 

 

There you have it—the baker and the banker’s kid soup via their prominent characteristics. I neglected to list some of their less-than-desirable personas—the screamer, the wall-puncher, the time bomb, the whiner, the crier, miss moody, etc… We’ll save these for another day…or not.

So if you're making your own kid soup, what would be the ingredients?

 

 

Tamra Torero is Wife to Paco, Momma to nine, Grandma of two, Bakery Manager, author of Shayla Witherwood: A Half-Faerie Tale and co-author of a Christmas novel, The Lost Son, with her son, Preston Norton. She absolutely adores her concoction of kid soup, but on a rainy day prefers clam chowder and a good book.

I Gave Birth to Julia Child

Okay, maybe not…yet, but give a mom credit for trying. You see, I have a simple philosophy in my sometimes not-so-simple life—kids should know how to feed themselves. And if they actually learn a few culinary skills in the process, boo-yeah—dinner is served, or as Julia would say, bon appétit!

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not talking Boeuf Bourguignon, Coq au Vin, or breaking any child-labor laws here. Sure, Julia was the American queen of French cuisine and I promise I’m not one of those over scheduling alpha-moms trying to churn out a clan of overachieving culinary minions. I’m just happy (especially during the summer months when they’re out of school), if my offspring can flip a piece of French toast or even a grilled cheese sandwich by themselves—some of the first dishes I teach my kiddos. We start with the basics and progress from there. If junior can make scrambled eggs—good. If he can make an omelet—even better.

Now, before I proceed any further, let me clarify a few things…starting with the fact that their dad and I actually do cook most of the meals at our house. I take care of dinner during the week, and my husband, Paco, does weekends (he’s somewhat of a “food whisperer.” Give the guy some seasonings and a slab of meat and he can make any ol’ food behave). But we both work during the week, so if these kids who know how to upload, download, inbox and outsmart any adult when it comes to all-things technical, can’t figure out how to cook something more than microwave popcorn, I’m afraid the zombie apocalypse is already upon us.

Think about it…

Secondly, I’m talking older kids here (although the little tykes are always eager to learn at our side). Currently, my house is populated with five kiddos ranging from 11 to 17…and they’re always hungry. We are in all phases of this momma’s self-feeding campaign at our house. Some are completely self-sufficient while others are a little more resistant.

One day, a certain child-who-shall-remain-unnamed tried to challenge me. “Mom, it’s your job to feed me!” said child with fists on hips.

“No, my dear” (okay, not sure I said the my dear part, but pretty sure it was past lunchtime, I was knee-deep in a huge project, previously mentioned “dear” had spent the day Facebooking and watching Netflix and we both were likely famished), “it’s my job to turn you into a responsible adult. There’s mac and cheese in the pantry or turkey slices in the fridge.”

All I have to say is hunger is a great motivator.

“My Dear” fixed the turkey sandwich and has yet to wither away in starvation.

This is all still a work in progress. Kids will forever be hungry and we have seven years till our two youngest graduate from high school. What are your thoughts when it comes to kids and food? I’d love to hear your ideas on this topic—especially kid-friendly recipes!

 

 

Tamra Torero is wife to Paco, Momma to nine, Grandma of two, Blogger, Bakery Manager, and Author of Shayla Witherwood: A Half-Faerie Tale and co-author of a Christmas novel, The Lost Son, with her oldest son, Preston Norton. She makes (and teaches how to make) a pretty mean French toast, loves the movie, Julie and Julia, and will love you even more if you share this post.

Anatomy of a Stepparent

I have nine kids—for reals. And the first question I hear when anyone learns this not-so-little tidbit of information is, “Are they all yours?”

I try not to wince when I hear this. Of course they’re all mine! my defensive heart screams. Do you think I’ve borrowed one for the day? I do realize, however, that people are simply curious as to the origin of our family when two of my daughters don’t look a whole lot like me (and I suppose the true giveaway is when they hear the older one speak with an accent).

But there is so much more binding this mother-daughter duo than the way we speak or common genes.
 
Her eyes are like her dad’s, a deep, dark chocolate—irresistible on all accounts, especially to the strings of my heart.
 
My eyes are true blue. You get what you see—an imperfect me. And these blue eyes see a child who needs me, imperfections and all. I’m fiercely loyal to those I love. On occasion, I might fight with them (that inevitable battle of the wills), but I will always fight for them. All of my children are a part of me—not a place they’re born into. The only entrance is through the heart.

Her skin is smooth and unblemished—easily bronzed by the sun’s rays yet sensitive to the world’s sometimes harsh realities.

My skin is freckled and fair and not so smooth anymore. Over the years, it’s been exposed to many of those harsh realities of life as well. It’s thicker now—the survivor of stings and scrapes. I don’t want her to experience these stings and scrapes—not yet. So my boundaries might feel overbearing to her. She might think I’m over-protective and it may be a long time before she understands. But remember—I’m fiercely loyal to those I love…and I love her. At the end of the day, this is one thing I know she knows.

Her hair is thick and dark and she complains that there’s nothing she can do with it. She has the most amazing curls that can wind around your finger like the grip of a newborn baby. Oh, how I wish she’d been a part of my life at that time. But that’s not our reality. Our memories are happening here and now…like when she gripped onto my hand during the scary part of that movie, or when she was nervous getting her blood work drawn.
 
My hair is blond, and thin, and getting thinner every day. If I could change anything about the physical me, this would be it—and she knows this. I always complain that there’s nothing I can do with my hair, and she always tells me that she loves my hair. I just think that she really loves me.

So many of our physical characteristics are different—our eye color, our skin tone, our hair… But these aren’t the ties that bind a family. I suppose you could boil it all down to the wise words of The Beatles—All You Need is Love. Our life might be far from perfect, but our hearts are one.


Tamra Torero is wife to Paco, Momma to nine, Grandma of two, Blogger, Bakery Manager, and Author of Shayla Witherwood: A Half-Faerie Tale and co-author of a Christmas novel, The Lost Son, with her oldest son, Preston Norton. She is perfect at the imperfections of stepparenting. Feel free to share this post if you've enjoyed it.

Something To Say?

What’s in a name?  Will Shakespeare asked this very question a few years back in a little thingy called Romeo and Juliet. He also said that we can call a rose any dang thing we want—a door-knob, a dirty diaper, you name it—and that delicate little plant with thorns and petals will still smell pretty dang great (I’m paraphrasing, of course).

 

Dude’s got a point.

 

So I suppose I could have named this blog, Thoughts of a Middle-age Mother or even Fifty Shades of Breastmilk. (Think I’m kidding? Think again. I marathon nursed for the better part of two decades and even worked as a breastfeeding counselor and lactation specialist.) But I chose Momma Got a Thought: Random Musings of a Sometimes-Coherent Parent because even though I’m an over-scheduled, multi-tasking Momma to nine of the most amazing people to ever walk this planet, Grandma to two darling boys, and hold down a full-time job as a bakery manager, I’m also a woman with something to say.

 

The Sometimes-Coherent part speaks for itself.

 

I’ve been at this Momma gig for the better part of three decades now. And throughout Momma-hood, I’ve lived many’a life—stay-at-home mom, work-from-home mom, part-time worker, full-time worker, homeschooler, public-schooler, night-schooler, breastfeeder, bottle-feeder, cat, dog, and bird feeder, single mom, step-mom, den-mother, and almost always, exhausted mother (again, referring to the Sometimes-Coherent thing). And throughout it all, I’ve always considered myself a writer (sometimes of books, but often just of text messages and grocery lists).

 

Chances are, I can say, “been-there, done that” to just about every aspect of Momma-hood. Am I an expert? Nope. Survivor? Sounds a little harsh for something that has brought me (along with tremendous trials), the most joy one can feel in this life (Disneyland, Colin Firth and dark chocolate included). And, well, I’m still at it. Four of my nine are legally adults and have moved out of the house (two have graduated from college, two are eagle scouts, two are married, and two have tattoos). But I am still nose-deep in parenthood. My husband Paco and I have five “minors” living amongst us, ranging from 11 to 17, and they keep us spinning in circles (need I make the Sometimes-Coherent reference again?).

 

Do I have something to say?

 

I’ll let you be the judge.


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