channeling homer again

This is how I feel right now. Brain dead. Wiped out. Not firing on all cylinders. I have never been the best at dealing with too many decisions and too much stress at the same time. What I should do is make a list of everything that needs to get done and then just start crossing things off one at a time. What I actually do is refuse to do anything and eat a lot of peanut m&m's and hope that everything will sort itself out. This is the reason why I was the first person done with my chemistry final in college and also the reason why my professor suggested that I might want to look at majoring in something other than biochemistry. This is also the reason why my blog has been less than stellar this past week. My brain is in shut down mode.
Right now, I'm trying to juggle the following:
 - packing up my house just enough to make it look organized for potential buyers but not so much that we can't live in it.
 - cleaning my house (woefully behind on this one)
 - continuing to take care of my family
 - trying to design a kitchen - should the stove and the sink be close together or should the fridge be next to the sink? why are corner cupboards so terribly awkward? drawers or cabinets?
 - helping my child learn to stay in his room during bedtime
 - keeping up with my other responsibilities

And so next week, as a special treat for myself and in honor of the holiday, I've decided that I'm not going to blog about children or moving or kitchens or anything else related to my life as it stands right now. Instead, I'm going to take a break and spend the week writing about some of my misadventures from my time in Indonesia. And hopefully by the end of next week I'll be feeling a little less like Homer and a little more like myself. Just thought I'd warn you.



photo by: davidjschenk  http://www.flickr.com/photos/42457561@N03/4594129560/

left behind

Last week, I took the kids to the pool along with their Aunt Yaya. When it was time to leave, I packed Caia into the stroller and headed out to get the car while Yaya stayed with the boys. Whoever designed the pool placed the gate rather far away from the parking lot so I normally bring the car around instead of trying to wrangle all three kids.
After I had put Caia into the car, I walked around back to fold up the stroller and looked up to see Jem running across the parking lot, tears streaming down his face. My first instinct was to scold him for running in the parking lot. But instead I asked him what he was doing? He responded, "Everyone left me."
While I was taking Caia to the car, Libby (Aunt Yaya) was helping Truett use the restroom. I had heard Truett ask her for help before I walked out and assumed that Jem had as well since he had been standing right there. But he had walked over to the foosball table, turned around and suddenly realized that no one was with him. I felt terrible.
I scooped him up and hugged him to me telling him that I would never, ever leave him behind. I said that he must have been really scared and he looked at me and said, "I was so sad Mommy." And I will admit that I felt terrible but also thankful. He was perfectly fine and I had been given a reminder that my boy does love me or that maybe he just doesn't want to be left by himself at the pool. I'll go with the first one.

photo by: 5inthemornin  http://www.flickr.com/photos/5inthemornin/6860582061/

five minutes

Yesterday, I took a bike ride. It was a short ride around the neighborhood at my in-laws' house that lasted no more than five minutes. I don't take bike rides very often and, when I do, it is on wide, flat surfaces with zero obstacles and very little traffic. I had some bad experiences with bike riding when I spent a semester abroad in Indonesia. I actually didn't get back on to a bike for six years. But that is a different story.
I have since ventured out a few times and found that I enjoy it, as long as the aforementioned criteria are met. Mountain biking? No thanks. Biking on a busy road? Not gonna happen. But a ride through a neighborhood is doable.
And yesterday, as I was riding, I had this moment of joy. I felt as though God told me to take a look around and enjoy the moment that He was giving me. It was a moment of being alone without any responsibilities. It was a blue sky, wind in your hair moment that reminded me that I am a person outside of being a mom. It reminded me of how much I loved riding a bike when I was a little girl. I loved that feeling of freedom, being able to get from point A to point B by yourself. Feeling the wind whip past you as you glided down a hill.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm still saying an emphatic no to mountain biking. But it was a brief reminder that enjoying life means paying attention and reveling in the simple moments. And that even a seemingly insignificant five minutes can change your outlook.

photo by: .I travel East.  http://www.flickr.com/photos/i_travel_east/5035444013/

a morning constitutional

This morning the kids and I went for a walk. I wasn't sure how it would go. I don't often do walks with all three of them because a) someone usually gets tired and wants to be carried and b) someone usually gets excited and starts running and doesn't always listen when I ask them to stop. But I thought I would give it a shot today.

 Caia traveled in the front pack which she loves but which, incidentally, kills my neck and shoulders. She isn't a small baby. The boys gathered up their walking gear which meant a backpack for Jem and a backpack, toy binoculars, and one of my headbands  for Tru.
As we walked they decided to look for clues to help them find a dinosaur. Every break in the sidewalk or divot in the road was somewhere a dinosaur had stepped. The long tar marks on the macadam from construction work were where a dinosaur had dragged his tail. And when the thunder started, that was a dinosaur stomping around. We never did find the dinosaur because we had to cut our excursion short when it started to rain.
We were three blocks from home which isn't that far except when you have two preschoolers with you. They didn't mind at all and I wouldn't have been in a hurry to get home except for the baby. She didn't seem to mind the rain either if her chubby, kicking legs were any indication, but I didn't think having her out there was the best idea. Jem ran ahead of us splashing in puddles while Tru held my hand and talked all about finding a dinosaur.
I did my best to pay attention to him while in my mind wondering if every person driving by was thinking about how awful it was for me to have my kids, especially the baby, out in the rain. Did they think that I was completely irresponsible? Did they think I was dumb for not checking the weather report or heeding the thunder? Or did they just think, "too bad for them." And then, in the midst of my judgemental attitude about other people being judgemental towards me (did you follow that?) a mini-van backed up and pulled over and a woman stuck her head out into the pouring rain. She offered to let us climb into her van to wait out the storm. I assured her that we were mere footsteps from our house and thanked her very much for her kindness. I then proceeded to herd the kids to our backyard, feeling convicted about my assumptions that everyone I saw today was judging me. As if they have nothing better to do. The boys stayed out in the rain while Caia and I retreated indoors to dry off.
Thinking about it now, I'm realizing that even if every single other person who drove past us thought that I was a horrible mom, I would still do it again. Because my boys had a wonderful time and I really enjoyed being with them and pretending with them. Besides, a little rain never hurt anybody.

wondering

Last night was bad. Truett went to sleep like a dream and I thought that we had finally turned the corner with him getting out of bed. Then 3am hit and we spent the next three hours dealing with him getting out of bed and coming into our room and screaming and asking for water, and crying. It was awful.
And, as I'm typing, bedtime is only an hour away and Sam and I find ourselves at odds with how to deal with the issue. I want to find a way to keep him in his bed, like another crib tent, even if they were recalled. Sam wants to move him back in with Jem. But I think we have two different goals. Sam wants to sleep the whole way through the night without interruption and I want to get up early in the morning and have time to myself without any children for an hour. Actually, we'd both love to sleep all night and have some quiet in the mornings. The difference is that Sam doesn't operate well on less sleep and I don't handle my children well if I don't have some time to just be a normal person before becoming Mom for the next twelve hours.
So as bedtime approaches and I know that I will try it Sam's way, I'm sitting here wondering what my new goal should be. Actually, I'm wondering if I can let go of what I want without feeling resentful. I'm wondering if my chlid will ever sleep and stay in his room. I'm wondering what else I can try to get us past this. I'm wondering if my child is seeking out attention at night because I don't give him enough during the day. I'm wondering who will emerge victorious from this battle. And I'm wondering if I'm even up for the challenge.
Guess I'll find out in t-minus 37 minutes. 

photo by: Beca  http://www.flickr.com/photos/rebeca_p/5044872613/

Sam got sucked into a marathon of "My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding" on Saturday. It's kind of like a car wreck. You don't want to watch but it is so hard to look away. At one point, he paused the show and rewound it so that I could hear something that one of the Gypsy wives had to say.

"To have a dinner ready for your husband when he comes home from a long day of work is the best feeling you'll ever have in the world."

Huh. I'm thinking that she may have been exaggerating a tad. The best feeling ever? In the entire world? I do feel a sense of accomplishment when I cook and I enjoy trying new things and I really like it when my family enjoys what I've made. But I can't say that plopping that roast down on the table is the best feeling ever. Let's see. Back rubs. The first time your baby smiles at  you. Hearing that one person say, "I love you." Reading a really good book. Listening to a great song. Yep. All better than having dinner ready.

Or maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe that is one of the best feelings in the world but I'm somehow missing out on it. That would be tragic because it happens four to five times a week, sometimes even more, and if it is really that awesome I'd like to reap some of the benefits of that awesomeness. I guess I'll just have to watch more episodes of the Gypsy wedding show and see if I can figure out what I'm missing.

photo by: thepeachmartini  http://www.flickr.com/photos/thepeachmartini/4820907653/

every woman's dream?

When Sam and I were looking at houses we both had our areas that we inspected. He was very much about the "feel" of the house while also looking at the practical issues of utilities and the condition of water heaters, furnaces and other large metal contraptions in the basement. I was more about the practicalities of every day living. Were the closets spacious and if not, could we fit a dresser into the room? How many electrical outlets were in each room? Was the laundry in the basement or on the first or second floor? And I was always concerned with the "feel" of the kitchen.
I spend 75% of my day in the kitchen, making meals and cleaning up after them. I enjoy cooking. Cleaning up, not so much. But regardless, the fact remains that I spend a lot of time in that one room. So I'm always looking for a kitchen that feels like it is part of the rest of the house and not boxed off.
Our new home has a galley kitchen that is boxed in and lacks space. So we've decided to redo it which sounds like a dream come true. I can plan out my own kitchen down to every last detail. I can make it efficient and warm and inviting.
That's what I was thinking until we sat down with a very helpful kitchen planner. You don't realize how big a fridge is until it is taking up space in your kitchen that you wanted for something else, like a pantry. And then you realize how much these people want you to pay for one cupboard. I suggested that we just nail milk crates to the wall and use those instead. I had no idea how much a kitchen install would cost and when it came time to hear how much just our cupboards and counter top were going to run us, I had to get up and walk away.
I have been having dreams about cupboards ever since. Sam tells me to relax but the last thing I want to do is make a mistake and plan it incorrectly. This will be my kitchen for the next 20 years so I can't exactly come back to him a year from now and say, "I really wish we had gotten more drawers instead of cupboards on the bottom." I have to get it right. It's also hard for me to know that I'm the reason we are spending so much money on wooden boxes with doors on them.
By the time we left, I was so frustrated and depressed that I told Sam I didn't want to move anymore. After talking to my mom, she challenged me to just enjoy this process. We are getting a new house and I'm am too fearful over money to even enjoy this gift. I would love a gorgeous kitchen with all of the latest technology and innovations. But I love being able to buy groceries and having money in our savings account even more. However, I'm learning that I can tend to make money my savior. I want it there to bring me a sense of security and safety. I'm not saying that I should be unwise with our finances but maybe I need to learn to trust God more. For all I know, we could be completely destitute in four months or we could go through our lives without every coming up against a big financial crisis. The point is that I don't know what the future holds but I'm hoping that I can learn to put my trust in God rather than in my savings account. And that I can maybe enjoy my new kitchen.

photo by: paul malon  http://www.flickr.com/photos/paulmalon/5158179352/

dream killer

I was talking with my mom today about the new house. She had asked about what we're planning to do with the bedrooms. Right now, we have four bedrooms but Jem and Tru share a room. The new house has four bedrooms as well and we've gone back and forth about keeping the boys together or splitting them up. They seem to enjoy sharing a room but there are those nights when they just egg each other on and it takes them forever to fall asleep. And there is also the slight issue of Tru waking up at 6 am when Jem would happily sleep until 8. Sam and I have gone back and forth and finally settled on an idea. We are going to keep the boys together and turn the fourth bedroom into a playroom.
I told my mom about our plan saying, "That way when Truett wakes up at 6:15 he can just go over to the playroom and play until one of us comes to get him."
To her credit, my mom didn't laugh in my face. Instead she looked at me and calmly said, "Brooke, do you really think that Truett is going to wake up and say, 'I think I'll go play in the playroom now.'?" And suddenly I saw all my dreams of peaceful mornings crumble around me. My little boy is not exactly good at self-regulating right now. He is like living with a combination of Curious George and Dennis the Menace. And neither one of those guys would go into a toy room to play when there was an entire house to explore.
And if that wasn't enough, my mom also told me that all of the crib tents had been recalled for safety issues. Looks like it's back to the drawing board.

photo by: Wishard of Oz  http://www.flickr.com/photos/wishardofoz/5511177770/

the dark

Truett has recently started fearing the dark and being alone. He insists that the hall light needs to be on when he goes to sleep even though there is a night light in his room. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, he comes into our room and tries to sneak into our bed. One of us ends up taking him back to his room while he tells us that he is "too scared". The other night he came into our room on three separate occasions. We woke up that morning feeling like we were back to having a newborn again.
This was never an issue with Jem. We've always kept their rooms as dark as possible, hoping that the street lights and sunlight wouldn't keep them up or wake them early. Jem never asked for a nightlight and he also never got out of his bed. When he was a baby he climbed/fell out of his crib once and then never did it again.
But Truett has proven to be rather difficult to keep in a bed. And adding in his fear of the dark creates a new set of problems. The biggest issue for me is knowing when the fear is real and when he is simply looking for some extra attention. I remember sleeping with the hall light on growing up. I wanted my door open so that I could hear my parents downstairs and the light on so that I could still see. So I don't want to dismiss Tru's fears. But I also don't want to be getting up every single night at 3 am to put him back into his bed. Argh!!! Why don't kids come with manuals?

photo by: David Llopis  http://www.flickr.com/photos/davidllopis/3120882757/

thanks

Thank you to my Dad for ~

~ telling me that you are proud of me
~ being at every single volleyball game and every single track meet for eight years
~ sharing your love of ice cream and science fiction with me
~ making me feel secure, valued and loved
~ being involved with my kids
~ all of the times you've dropped what you were doing to help me with broken toilets, leaking fridges, and broken-down cars
~ loving me and providing for me

Thank you to my Father-in-law for ~

~ taking me on a lunch date before Sam and I got married to share your story with me and to learn more about me
~ teaching your son to value and respect women and for getting in his face when he didn't
~ teaching your son to run hard after the things he wanted
~ raising your son to love God
~ bringing me into your family with open arms and love
~ spending time with my kids
~ always having an open door when we just happen to be in the neighborhood :)

Thank you to my Husband for ~

~ getting up to get the baby for those 2am feedings
~ rough housing with our boys
~ teaching our children to respect me
~ sensing when I'm at my limit and forcing me out the door for some quiet time
~ going to work everyday to provide for us
~ always making us feel that coming home is the best part of your day
~ loving us and making us feel secure
~ being a fantastic dad

double punishments

Why does it seem like the most effective forms of discipline are also the hardest on the parents? Today, the boys and I went to a nature program at a local park. We've been going every morning this week and learning about habitats, worms, butterflies, and bees. We listen to stories, sing songs, do crafts, explore the outside, and have yummy snacks. And for the most part, it has been a really good experience.
But today, Truett just couldn't pull it together. He was talking back, disobeying, and being naughty. We actually ended up leaving early because he wouldn't or couldn't change his behavior. He wasn't phased by leaving early and I knew that he needed to understand that his behavior wasn't okay. So I told him that he wouldn't be able to eat lunch with his Yaya. (Sam's sister) Truett adores his Yaya so I knew that this would be a good punishment for him. However, this also meant that I would be spending more time with Truett and I will be honest and say that, today, that felt like a punishment for me. I was supposed to have some free time, as much as you can possibly have with an eight-month old scooting around, and get a few things done around the house. Instead, I had to listen to Truett tell me that he was going to throw a shoe at me. I'm not sure who had the worse end of that deal when it was all said and done.

photo by: redvelvettears  http://www.flickr.com/photos/redvelvettears/2273473006/

bad idea

Sometimes the idea of things is better than the reality. I'm finding that to be very true when it comes to activities with young kids. I can't tell you the number of times I'm handed a craft at church that is covered in glitter. Maybe little girls are different but my boys will have that glitter picked off and coating the back seat of our van in less than five minutes. I am not a fan of glitter.
And if it isn't glitter, it's wet paint. Do these wonderful women really think that my dragons can handle a picture that is covered in wet paint? Their confidence in my kids is heartening but completely unwarranted.
Today we were at a nature class that I signed the boys up for and the topic was worms. What little boy doesn't love worms? It was fabulous. There was a guest speaker who told us all about worms and then gave us materials to create our very own worm habitats to take home with us. She passed out Styrofoam coffee cups, rubber gloves, dirt, and a few other miscellaneous supplies.
"A worm habitat? That sounds great! My kids love worms. Oh. You're going to give my four-year old and my three-year old a Styrofoam cup filled with worms and dirt? Yeah, that's not going to go well. Actually, that is going to be pretty terrible. Can I pass on the worm thing?"  
Jem dropped his worm habitat two times before we even made it out to the van and then again when we got home. Truett did very well until later in the evening when he decided his worms needed to be in the living room and promptly dropped his cup on the carpet. I cleaned up worms and dirt four times today. And can I throw those habitats away? (I would put the worms outside - I'm not completely heartless) Of course not! The boys have spent their day talking about their worms and asking me when we can feed them and wondering what they are doing in their cups. I love that they are engaged and learning. I just wish it didn't have to be so messy. I think messy is in the cards for me for the next fifteen years. Good thing I have a decent vacuum.

mutual apologies

It's no secret that Truett challenges me. He is strong-willed and defiant and curious. He goes from zero to sixty in about two seconds and he doesn't really have an in-between. I can honestly say that I never screamed at one of my children until he came along. There is just something about his behavior that amps me up. And it is completely useless for me to be amped up. His demeanor doesn't change whether I'm yelling or whispering. And obviously, I don't want to be a parent who yells. The first time I yelled at him, I walked away and burst into tears. I had to call my mom so that she could reassure me that I'm not the worst mom in existence.
I've been working on staying calm with Truett and making sure that the consequences for his behavior are immediate. It usually isn't the first act of disobedience that gets me. It's the second and the third and the fourth. It's the refusal to stop or to do what I've asked of him. So if I stay on top of things, I can nip my anger in the bud. But it doesn't always work out.
The other night, Tru screamed at me for about 45 minutes. He didn't want to pull his own underwear up and insisted that I do it for him. Probably one of the silliest things to fight over but I wasn't about to let my three-year old boss me around or dictate to me. And by the time the 45 minutes was coming to a close, I was at the end of my rope. I had already used all of the discipline tools in my tool box and nothing was working. He would calm down and then, when he realized that he was still going to have to pull up his own pants, he would freak out again. Suffice it to say, that by the time it was all over, he was in his room and I was sitting downstairs taking deep breaths and telling myself to go upstairs and apologize.  I went to his room and looked down at him laying in his bed. He looked up at me and said, "I sorry Mommy for disobeying to you and being so naughty." (That's not a typo, he really speaks that way right now which I love.) And then I apologized to him for getting so angry and yelling at him. We hugged and kissed and said "I love you" to each other.
I have a feeling that Truett and I have quite a few mutual apologies to look forward to in the future. Suprisingly, I feel okay with that. I would love it if we never had any disagreements but that's not possible. And there is beauty in letting your child see that you can be wrong. And every time we apologize to each other, I am teaching him what it looks like to respect other people and himself. He doesn't understand any of that right now but someday he will. I hope.

photo by: Fatma Alemadi  http://www.flickr.com/photos/icandream/287130422/

neighbors

"Good fences make good neighbors."

~Robert Frost

Sam and I just bought a new house. We haven't signed the papers yet but it's ours and we'll be moving in at the end of the summer. We drove over today to just walk around the backyard again and peek in the windows. It has been vacant for a few years. As we were heading back to the car, Sam saw a neighbor out trimming the bushes in his yard and he went over to introduce himself. Sam is really good about that stuff. I would have just pretended that I didn't see him and then waved to him as I drove away. Meeting new people is not high on my list of things I enjoy but thankfully God gave me Sam who doesn't mind that sort of thing at all.
I walked over to meet our new neighbor, trying to be friendly. He was an older gentleman, maybe in his late 60's, early 70's. He shook my hand but never told me his name which didn't surprise me. I'm not sure if that says more about me or about him. But in the course of our short conversation he managed to ask us what we paid for the house, inform us that he and the neighbor on the other side took care of the lawn for two years when the previous owners turned the keys into the bank, and tell us that we would need to stain the siding and that he usually does his every five years.
Sam took it in stride. He just assumes that older people are going to speak their minds and it isn't something to be upset over. I did not take it in stride. I immediately started second guessing our purchase. I was imagining myself getting out of the van and being accosted by any number of neighbors demanding that we mow the lawn more than once a week. And who knows what they will think when we install a play set or let our boys run around on the front lawn.
I want to be a good neighbor. I don't want to move into the neighborhood and have people think that we are making it look trashy or that we are too noisy. But I also don't want people to tell me how to take care of my house, no matter how subtly they try to do it. I must confess that it made me want to run out and buy all sorts of hideous lawn ornaments and just fill the front yard with them.

photo by: keeve999   http://www.flickr.com/photos/54159370@N08/7311216028/

making mom worry

My mom was the main reason that I started my blog. She was the "friend" who strong-armed me into it. She is also one of the people who reads it every day. And sometimes she notices a theme or gets a little bit concerned by the overall tone of my posts.
Take last week for example. It contained a failed diet, an admittance that I can't handle it when Caia is grumpy, a desire for doors with strong locks to hide behind, a call to poison control, and the realization that I'm a self-centered person, again. So I wasn't surprised when my mom called me on Friday afternoon and asked me how I was doing. I assured her that I was doing fine; a little frazzled at times but overall doing well.
It is nice to know that she is concerned for me. It is also nice to have a reminder that I can tend to focus on the negative and forget about the positive. Last week was rough, there's no doubt about it. But there were still good moments. It is so easy to overlook the small moments of laughter and love. They can get lost in the midst of temper tantrums and arguments. The crying and screaming can be so loud and overwhelming and long-lasting, while the "I love you's" are often whispered and the kisses are given in haste as they run off to do something else. And I think that I can sometimes focus too much energy on trying to move past the rough spots when instead I should be focusing on finding and holding onto the beautiful moments in the day.

Jane

I had a very nice conversation with Jane from poison control this morning. She assured me that the medicine my child drank was non-toxic and that I didn't need to worry. And then she took my name and told me to call back if there were any problems. That's what she said but I'm guessing they have a list somewhere of all the moms who call poison control and if you call so many times they send Child Services to your house. That's just my guess.
Do I even need to tell you which of my children thought it was a good idea to drink a 1/4 of a bottle of cough syrup? Especially if I say that I found that same child crouched in the bathroom sink this morning, water up to his ankles (he still had his socks on), with unopened Tylenol bottles floating next to him?
I had a long talk with both boys about how dangerous medicine is. I'm pretty sure they think I forbid them from doing things just because I can. Like I am secretly hiding from them how fun it is to juggle knives and pour gasoline on the lawn. I wish that they could see that I'm on their side, that my goal is to keep them from harm. I wish being a mom didn't feel so much like being a dictator at times. I wish all medicine tasted like sauerkraut and that everything dangerous looked really boring.

photo by: The Munger Mange  http://www.flickr.com/photos/matt_m/3307474499/

doors

You would think that after my grand revelation early Monday morning, I would be posting about how fantastic the past few days have been. I would write about how much fun we've had together and how I've discovered a whole new level of joy in motherhood. But this is reality and reality is messy and ugly and I'm smack dab in the middle of a whole bunch of ugly.
Today I've been daydreaming about doors. Big, solid doors with deadbolts that are too high up for anyone under 5' to reach. I need more doors in my life. Sometimes I just need somewhere to escape to.  There is a constant pull on me. I'm Mommy and therefore I am responsible for everything from putting on shoes to wiping heinies. And heaven forbid if I don't do something quickly enough. The words "in a minute" can throw my children into conniptions. That's right, conniptions. And I think about how long it took me to see my mom as a real person with her own needs and desires instead of as the person whose sole purpose in life was to take care of me and I want to curl up into the fetal position because I'm never going to make it.

photo by: .I travel East.  http://www.flickr.com/photos/i_travel_east/4106091666/

grumpy girl

Caia was grumpy yesterday. There wasn't a smile to greet me when I walked into her room to wake her up. She cried in her bouncy seat. She cried on her mat. She cried in her saucer. Basically, she just cried most of the day.
Actually, it wasn't that bad. I remember times with Jem when he would scream his head off because he was really tired and couldn't manage to get to sleep. Sam would put in earplugs and lay on our bed with him and just wait him out.
This was more of a general whininess all day. She is cutting some teeth which normally makes most babies fussy. But when Sam got home and asked how our day was, I told him that I didn't know what to do with Caia. I can't really handle her being grumpy. She is normally such a happy baby and I hadn't realized until yesterday how much I rely on that to get me through the day. Her contentedness allows me to give my focus to Jem and Tru. And her tendency to smile at me and get really super excited anytime I come near her is very much needed. The boys adore her and she is a wonderful balance to my frustration, Jem's whininess, and Tru's temper. I know it's a lot of pressure to put on a baby and I also know that she is going to hit the temper tantrum stage and the whiny stage and all of the other ones. But for now, she brings joy to our family and we are so grateful that God knew how much we needed a good dose of joy.

epic fail

I had a revelation this morning and it wasn't a pretty one. As I was getting ready for the day and thinking about what I could do with the kids to help the day go smoothly, I realized something. It seems that much more often than I would like, I still operate under the delusion that my time is my own and that I am at the center of my world. If I'm being 100% honest, I would have to say that my goal is to make my day convenient and enjoyable for me. And when that is my approach to my day, my children simply become an annoyance that gets in the way of my own convenience and enjoyment.
It is not convenient to get groceries with a four-year old who likes to jog down the aisles, asks you what everything is, and starts to whine half way through. It is not enjoyable to fold laundry at 8:30pm when you really just want to sit down and relax but if you fold it at any other time someone would be trying to dump the clothes out to hide in the basket while someone else tries to "help" fold and really just makes it all harder.
I am still clinging to this idea that I should get to do what I want with my time. That possibility started heading out the door eight years ago when I got married and once Jem came along it disappeared completely. My time isn't my own. I made a decision to fill my life with love. And more often than not, love comes with obligations. I am obligated to do life with Sam, to work out our differences, to celebrate our victories, to climb down in the trenches with him when he needs me. And I am obligated to take care of my children, to place their needs above my own. And because I love Sam and I love Jem, Truett and Caia, these obligations look more like privileges.
But sometimes, I still get stuck in "me land" and I forget that these  people are blessings in my life, not hindrances. And my revelation this morning was that I've been stuck in "me land" an awful lot lately. Trying to eke out every single second of me time that I possibly can instead of being present and being in the moment with my kids. That isn't who I want to be as a mom. I want to see my kids as adding to my day, adding to my life, not taking away from it.
It isn't easy to write this stuff; to admit that I'm so self-focused. But if I don't admit it, I can't possibly hope to change it. So here's to another failure! May it bring about good things.

photo by: Black Sheep of Omaha  http://www.flickr.com/photos/jimlambphotography/2735502982/

back to square one

So my Special K diet ends tomorrow. I did pretty well with sticking to the plan in spite of my very unhelpful husband. Every other night he was asking me if I wanted to run to Rita's for an italian ice or did I maybe want to head to the store and buy some chips and dip once the kids were in bed. How about a pizza at 9pm? To his credit he did buy low-fat ice cream so that I would be able to eat my teeny tiny half-cup serving while he dug into his four scoops.
I'm sure the part that you are all dying to know is: did it work? For an answer let me say that as I type this I am having a cup of coffee and chowing down on a big Greek pastry filled with almonds and honey and chocolate. This is not a celebratory snack. This is a I-just-weighed-myself-and-the-numbers-didn't-change-so-screw-you-special-k snack. And it's fantastic!

stranger danger

A few weeks ago, I decided that I should probably talk to my kids about strangers. We've already talked about how important it is for them to never leave the playground with anyone other than Mommy but we've never talked about strangers. It's a difficult topic. I don't want to make my kids paranoid but I also don't want them walking around thinking everyone out there is their friend.
First we talked about what a stranger is. Then I asked them what they would do if someone they didn't know, a stranger, came up to them and said, "Come with me and I'll give you some candy." Their immediate response was, "Candy?! We love candy!" And that's when I knew that this talk was overdue.
So I told them that there are some people out there who might want to hurt them. Jem asked if I meant that people would want to hit and kick them or call them names. I told him that it would be like that and maybe worse. I said that they should never, ever go with anyone that they don't know. I told them that if someone they don't know offers them candy they should run away and come find me and tell me right away.
Afterwards, I wasn't sure how much of it they understood or even remembered. But just this morning, while driving in the car, Truett said, "Mommy, are those strangers?" He was pointing at some construction workers. I asked him if we knew them and he said no. I said that meant that they were strangers. He then said in a gruff sort of voice, "And they will say, 'Hey little boy. I have candy and sugar. Come with me.' And we will run away and tell you Mommy."
So I guess it stuck. Now if someone offered him a chance to ride a motorcycle all bets would be off.

photo by: MeghanTraynor  http://www.flickr.com/photos/meghant/4400066508/