Whining, Wine-ing & Winning

It’s another day — more parenting, more adventures, and hopefully soon… a family Saturday nap.

Wild Child is in full throttle, Dad is marinating chicken wings, and I’m making ranch and Jamaican jerk seasoning.

What will we learn today?

When you’re a parent, every day is an adventure.

Some days your kids want PB&Js, Happy Meals, or Big Macs. Other days, oddly… a salad.

WHAT?

This Saturday started as usual: a random mom-or-dad holler from the top of the stairs, waking up from a drool pillow, an extremely soaked pull-up, RYZE coffee, and mild regrets from family karaoke night — and the empty wine bottle that keeps those regrets alive.

When you’re a stay-at-home mom, weekends are just another day — only now you’ve got Dad by your side to tag in for bathroom runs, wipe snotty faces, and bring snacks while you finally attempt to relax.

Or in my case… bring back to life my new hobby: writing.

Today I opened WordPress and word-vomited my soul onto the keyboard.

My husband gave me an eye roll — the loving kind — and my little drifted off to sleep.

We should be sitting on the deck enjoying moderate weekend day drinking. But instead, it’s super-cold Kansas weather with 30-mph wind gusts, so we’re spiraling into Netflix documentaries (him) while I nerd out on my computer.

This is why weekends are my favorite. My

Having my husband home makes me feel far more emotionally stable than arguing with a toddler because I gave her ranch Doritos instead of nacho cheese.

Yes. I give my toddler chips.

Come at me.

We get time to connect. And if I’m being honest, in a perfect life neither of us would work. We’d live off lottery winnings, go to the zoo when the weather cooperates, and pretend we don’t own alarm clocks.

But truthfully, the cold days — even the sick-kid days — are what strengthen our marriage.

No visitors.

No random brunches.

No obligations.

Just time together.

I think this is what the kids will remember.

Not the zoo trips.

Not the brunches.

But the night before… and the day ahead.

Wiping neon cheese dust and traces of Yellow #5 off tiny fingers and couch cushions.

Me asking my toddler — mid “I’m-pooping face” — if she wants to go to the bathroom, only to get a mid-poop grunt:

“no.”

followed by:

“…or go right there.”

And I know I always say I’ll “wine-d down” at the end of my stories, or joke about it — but in reality, I went from wine-ing down pretty often to weekends only. That’s part of why this hobby has grown so strong.

Mid-poop, Dorito hands, and the sporadic “NOOOOO” is what keeps us going.

When you’re home alone with a little person who doesn’t listen, cracks you up, pisses you off, and gives you separation anxiety all at the same time — they become your world and your reason to be better. To have more goals. To bring out hidden talents you didn’t know were there.

My family keeps me strong. Present. Wanting to be a better me.

So tonight I wine-d down (not really… but maybe, depending on the day) in a place I’m happy we moved to — and a place I want to live forever.