All My Favorite Colors Are Red: (Musings of a Maniac Mom)

By Barb Eimer

“Humor,” said James Thurber, “is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility.”

If you add the clause “especially when you are a mother of six,” you will have

the premise of All My Favorite Colors are Red.  It’s the diary of Sarah Ferguson,

a 39-year-old suburban housewife whose year-long musings can be summed up

as follows:

 

Motherhood is hard   (Know when to walk away, know when to run)

Motherhood changes your life   (Nobody lives happily ever after)

Motherhood is a blessing   (Finding pearls of wisdom in the sea of muck)

 

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“Absolutely the funniest book I’ve ever read!”

Abbe Starr –Barb’s best friend since she was two

 

“I’m so proud of her.  She’s an amazing author

and an even  more amazing person.”

Ruth Nobis—Barb’s mom

 

“Barb is so awesome.  I think she’s, like, the most gifted person on the planet.”

Stranger to whom Barb slipped a large sum of money in order to use this quote

 

“She’s the best mom I ever had.”

Jordan Eimer—age six

 

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• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 14, 2007
• ISBN: 9781467085007

Barb Eimer

Barb Eimer is a totally normal mother of six whose real life in no way resembles anything that happens in this book.   She has published numerous articles about parenting and you can find out more about her at www.barbeimer.com.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Acknowledgements 

In case I never write another book, I would like to thank everyone I’ve ever met, those who I have yet to meet and those who I will never meet but feel I know anyway because they can relate to the wonderful, but wacky, high-calling of motherhood. I appreciate your allowing me to intrude into your life for a short while. (And hope you will think it was worth your while!)

More specifically, I need to single out some special people. First, thanks to my wonderful parents, Bill and Ruth Nobis, for your unconditional love and for being awesome parents and grandparents. Thanks to my sisters, Jane Fiedler and Anne Muilman, who are not only great encouragers but also great sports. Brent, my incredible husband, it doesn’t seem fair that all you are to me is reduced to one line so I’ll try to say it well. When I’m tempted to doubt God’s love, I remember that He put you in my life 24 years ago. To my kids (Katie, Molly, Marta, Ben, Jon and Jordan) all I can say is how blessed I am. And thanks for still calling me the best mom in the world even when I decided to publish this. (Okay, maybe only Jordie still calls me that, but he really means it!)

I also need to thank my wonderful writer friends. The people I’ve met along the way have been one of the best and most unexpected blessings. Mary Byers, thanks for your initial nudge in the right direction and for a friendship that’s going on year 30! John Riddle, I’m grateful for all the advice and humor along the way. You’re one of a kind… thankfully!  Kudos to fellow writer Karen Asp for being excited every time I’ve been published and for not making me feel like small potatoes. To Abbe Starr and Deb DiGiovanni—I’ve learned so much from you both and my life is richer because you’re my friends.

Finally, thanks to my wonderful friend at AuthorHouse, JR Harris, for sticking with me through thick and thin.

I appreciate you all and am unbelievably grateful to the Lord for all He has done for me. Without His guidance I wouldn’t have anything to say and without His encouragement, wouldn’t have had the guts to say it. My prayer is that this book draws you to Him.

Barbs

Prologue

You’re holding this book in your hand because my best friend, Grace, was smart enough to know that I needed help…on an ongoing basis! And so, eighteen months ago, she sent me a simple leather journal with the following note scrawled on the inside cover:

Dearest Sarah,

I know that sometimes the pressures and stresses of motherhood can be overwhelming. Your recent emails lead me to believe that the Christmas season has almost done you in. Although I know this journal is not a cure-all, I do think it would help you to write down your thoughts during the upcoming year.

You are probably thinking this is easy for me to say as I’m a writer with six quite successful books under my belt. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist!) But it doesn’t have to be anything amazing or profound…just write from your heart.

I’ll be praying for you and checking in via email daily. Please continue to be honest with me. You know I care and that you’re the best friend anybody could wish for.

Much love,

Gracie

That was it. Her simple suggestion and the beautiful journal led to a voyage of self-discovery that has been life-altering.

Am I still the bumbling idiot who relies on the Cool Whip diet when all else fails? Of course! But I’m finally seeing that many of my struggles are shared by moms the world over. And this realization gave me the courage to publish my journal. Thankfully, I’ve found that it is possible to raise normal children, even if I’m not!

Take a peek inside my life.

Sarah Ferguson

June 30, 2007

January 

January 1, 2006 – A Fresh Start, Feeling Good

567! That’s how many New Year’s resolutions I’ve made and broken in my life. That’s why this year’s goals are realistic and simple: lose ten pounds, pray more, and write twice a week in my wonderful new journal.

I’m taking Grace’s advice and this will be a catch-all of feelings from day to day. I have no expectations other than to be completely honest. I’m only writing for myself so that takes the pressure off.

January 4 – Feeling Even Better

Is it wrong to be euphoric because the kids return to school tomorrow after a fifteen-day Christmas break? Whoever made the silly rule that children should get two weeks off in the dead of winter, when the only available sport is drive your parents crazy should be shot. Well, maybe that’s too strong. Spending a day at my house would be torture enough.

January 5 – Am Considering Suicide

What are the odds? They were predicting two inches of snow overnight and we woke to seven, along with an ominous new forecast that includes the all-too-familiar dreaded phrase blowing and drifting. School has been cancelled, I have a toothache, and Jordan says he might barf (one of the ten grossest words in the English language). I called Mom to look into dropping off the kids at her house (before I know for sure that Jordan is sick. Am I bad or what?) Usually she is more than willing to help, but Mom isn’t just considering barfing, she is. Rats. (And things aren’t looking good for Jordan. She took him shopping a few days ago.)

The kids want to go sledding. I told them I’m already on a slippery slope. Sarcasm is lost on them.

January 6 – Nothing Lasts Forever- Except Worry Lines and Stretch Marks

The kids finally went back to school today. Thank you, God! I’m not doing much better emotionally, though. I spent the morning getting my tooth drilled and am now in the bathroom, hiding from the kids. It’s 6:00 p.m. and I should be making dinner, or at least getting out the cereal boxes, but I’d rather write about my day. Although thinking back, it’s not looking good.

One hundred twenty-one, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-three, I shouted this afternoon to nobody in particular as the kitchen timer went off.

Mommmm, Katie yelled.

Rats, I don’t think I can count that one. The timer beat you by a millisecond. Better luck next time, kiddo.

What are you talking about, Mom? Are you okay? asked Katie as she walked into the kitchen.

Just gather up your brothers and sisters. We need to talk.

Everybody, come here now! Katie yelled.

Katie, I know how to scream. I meant go find them, I said.

Screeches, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of sixty-five-dollar Reeboks on wood floors prevailed for the next sixty seconds or so while the herd converged from points unknown and gathered at the watering hole.

Nope, not in the kitchen. Everybody in the family room, I said while making swooping gestures with my arms. We need to talk.

Uh, Mom, Ben, my oldest son, chimed in. What is it? It’s never good when you feel the need for a family meeting.

And this time is no different, my son, I said as I stood before them. Jon and Jordan were vying for the same six-inch space on the couch and it took giving them the look before Jordan sighed and sank to the floor.

I cleared my throat for emphasis and four eyeballs rolled simultaneously. It was the twins, of course. At almost fourteen, they’re experts at eyeball rolling. I reminded myself to see if there was some kind of a competition they could enter that would help pay for their braces.

Mommy just completed an experiment and the results have been tabulated. Beginning at three ten, when you walked in the door, and continuing until exactly three twenty, I counted how many times the word mom was used. Would anybody like to guess how many moms there were?

Jordan’s hand shot up and he began grunting the way only five-year-olds can.

The floor recognizes Jordan.

Fifty-six.

Oh, good guess but way light. Anybody else want to try?

Katie and Molly just looked at me as if I’d sprouted horns. Marta was busy inspecting a fingernail. Ben and Jon both put their hands up at the same time.

I smiled. Ben. Jon. Just shout out your guesses.

Eighty-two, yelled Ben.

Ninety-seven, shouted Jon.

"Oh, you’re both way light. Okay, I know this is tough. Rather than prolonging the misery, let me just say that in a ten-minute time span, the six of you had a combined mom-yell score of one hundred twenty-three. That averages out to more than twenty moms per person or, put another way, two moms per minute per child. I have brought you all here to give you the bad news that this number is totally unacceptable.

Now for the good news. I think with lots of teamwork and a little bit of restraint, we can slice this number in half. Yep, I’m shooting for ten moms per person by next week. Do you think you’re up for the challenge?

Can we go now? asked Katie, yawning.

Just a minute. I need to hear everybody say, ‘We’ll try not to drive you crazy with too many moms, Mom.’ Can you do it?

Five children stared at me and mumble halfhearted we’ll try answers. I’m afraid only Jordan had enjoyed our little tête-à-tête. As the others scattered and I headed back to the kitchen to find something guaranteed to harden my arteries, Jordan followed me, saying, How many of those moms do you think were mine, Mom? Do you think half of them were from me, Mom? Because I say mom a lot, don’t I, Mom? (So much for the impact of the family meeting.)

Well, that’s it: my afternoon in a nutshell. Am wondering if this is normal or whether I might need years of psychotherapy.

I must say, however, that the journal is great. Everything sounds more humorous after the fact. Why isn’t it that funny when it’s happening?

Oops…just heard a chair crashing and somebody is crying. Be back later…

January 7 – Seven Days, Not Bad

Well, I got a whole week into the new year before somebody commented on my name. I should just wear a big sign around my neck that says, When my mom named me Sarah, she didn’t know I would marry a Ferguson. And she certainly didn’t know that another Sarah Ferguson would become famous. Please do not tease me about this if you want to keep all your teeth. Thank you!

There are heavier crosses to bear. I knew a girl in grade school named Penny Nickel. I remember thinking, even way back then, that she’d better marry early on in life.

January 8 – Good Friends Make Life Worth Living

I had a great talk with Grace. We email almost every day and talk once a week or so. Sadly, as she lives in Montana., we don’t see each other often. Anyway, I phoned and told her how much the journal is helping. I do have a few scattered journal entries (who knows where) from when the kids were very small and a few notes on our time in Africa, but this is the first time I’ve made a concerted effort to stick with it. My hubby, Evan, is a decent short-term listener, but after about ten minutes his eyes glaze over and it’s pointless to continue.

I shared my one hundred twenty-three moms in ten minutes story and asked her about possibly becoming a writer like her. She laughed and said not to quit my day job.

January 10 – The Twins Turn Fourteen Today. Where Did the Time Go?

We were married almost four years before we decided to have children. Four years! Wouldn’t you think I would have truckloads of memories of life before kids? Well, I don’t. There isn’t even a Civic hatchback full of memories.

Okay, I’ll stop exaggerating. I have two memories of those early years: watching lots of TV while living on a diet consisting almost entirely of popcorn and Kool-Aid, and moving from Ohio to North Carolina on New Year’s Day.

I’ll never move on a holiday again; that’s for sure. We found out the hard way that fast-food restaurants aren’t open. It was brutal. Twelve hours cooped up in a Skylark with Frisco, my obnoxious