today

Today was a good day. It wasn't a perfect day but it was a good one. Jem still struggled with his attitude. Truett didn't obey the first time or the second time or the third time. Caia is pushing some teeth and not sleeping well. And I still got frustrated by Jem's inconsistency with being able to buckle his own seat belt. So yeah, not perfect.
But there was that stretch of 15 minutes when Jem came downstairs from his nap and found me watching Chopped on the couch, because where else would I be, and he curled up next to me and we watched together. And there was that moment during breakfast when Tru just looked at me with that little smirk he has and I felt overwhelmed by how much I love him. There was the moment when Jem told me he had learned how to read and proceeded to read a book to me that he has memorized, checking with me every few pages to make sure he hadn't missed a word. And there was the excitement in Tru's voice when I arrived at preschool to pick him up. Add in a little girl who is standing next to my chair, clutching her monkey with the pink bow and staring up at me, and how could it not be a good day?

picture from: shirtoid.com

big plans

Good intentions. I have them. I swear I do. But they don't mean anything unless I follow through on them. So that idea I had to start a good behavior chart for the boys? Didn't happen. And the family reading time after dinner? That went the way of starting to have the boys do some chores, setting aside "school time", and teaching Jem to read.
I want to make some Christmas crafts with the kids. I'd like to do a better job of reading to them at bedtime on a consistent basis. I was planning to start cutting back on the amount of sugar we eat as a family. I also am still intending to workout more, finish covering the switch plates, and sew a stocking for Caia.

But nap time rolls around and the gravitational pull from the couch is just too much to resist. So I sit down, just for a minute, and the minute turns into an hour. Suddenly all thoughts of creating the chore chart have fled completely as I do my best to clean up the house in the 15 minutes before Sam walks through the door.
My new plan is to take it one step at a time. Maybe instead of cutting out sugar, I'll just eat one less cookie. Maybe instead of creating an entire chore chart, I'll just ask the boys to put their shoes away. Maybe instead of working out tomorrow, I'll park further away from the grocery store entrance. And if you stop by and see me lounging on my couch eating cookies and reading a book, just know that I have really good intentions of accomplishing all sorts of wonderful things. Really, it would blow your mind if you knew how many things I have planned.

photo from: thescrib.com

motherhood with a side of guilt

I've started to notice a trend. The theme of my journey into motherhood seems to be guilt. I want to say it's love or joy or tenderhearted moments. But it isn't. It's guilt.
It started at the hospital. I felt guilty for sending my babies back to the nursery at night time instead of sleeping them in my room. And it just continued from there.  
-I felt guilty for thinking breastfeeding was a duty and not understanding those moms who talked about it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world
-I felt guilty for signing my kids up for preschool and being excited for the break
-I feel guilty when I don't read them a bedtime story
-I feel guilty when I let them watch an extra tv show
-I feel guilty when I don't let them help me make pancakes
-I feel guilty when I lose my temper
-I feel guilty for not having a craft closet
-I feel guilty for not sitting by the bathtub and playing pirates with them during bathtime
-I feel guilty for praying that we don't have a snow day
-I feel guilty for wanting them to just sleep in
-I feel guilty for needing nap time so desperately

This is what motherhood has become for me. It comes from this idea I have in my head of what a mom should be. Some of it is perpetuated by my culture and the people around me. Some of it comes after reading blogs with moms who homeschool eight kids and make it seem like every day is rainbows and kittens. Sometimes it hits me after hearing other moms talk about how glad they are to have their kids home from school for the holiday. The guilt creeps in and tells me that I'm not doing a good job, that I'm not paying enough attention to my kids, that if I was only a better mom I could fix that behavior. It tells me that my kids won't be okay because I couldn't meet the standard.
Sometimes the guilt is good. It can be a reminder to me that I want to try harder and I want to be the best mom that I can. But, more often than not, I allow the guilt to paralyze me. I use it to chastise myself. It doesn't improve my parenting. How can I be a better parent when I'm telling myself that I'm terrible at it? Doesn't exactly build confidence.
I want to let go of the guilt. I want to take this one day at a time and be okay with the emotions that come along with it. I want to enjoy my kids and be okay with those moments when I really want a break. I want to make pancakes by myself but also take time to let my kids help me once in a while. I want to be confident in my skills as a mom and know that I'm doing a great job.

photo from: nathanrouse.org

cookies

I spent the morning at my mother-in-law's house baking cookies. It has become a tradition. The Monday after Thanksgiving, the ladies in the family meet at her house and we churn out chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies, ginger snaps, sand tarts and cherry winks. It is a lot of fun but also tiring. We spend hours on our feet, mixing batter, putting cookie trays into the oven and sampling our wares.
I think that this year is the last year that I'll be able to leave Jem at home. Both boys have expressed an interest in baking and cooking. It is a natural thing for them to be curious about something that their mom does often. And they both love cracking eggs and pouring things into bowls. They want to watch me cook oatmeal and flip pancakes. And I don't let them help me that often. It is hard when I know that the mess will be larger or that some of the batter will fly out of the bowl because they still don't have control over their movements at times. But today I realize that I wanted to make cookies with them here at home. I know that they will enjoy it and that they will be so excited to see the cookies come out of the oven knowing that they had made them.  I think I might have a touch of the crazies because this idea sounds insane. But maybe if I let them help me more often it might become easier to see the beauty in spite of the mess. Maybe making cookies will teach them patience and obedience while it pushes me to give them grace. Or maybe it will be a disaster but at least there will be cookies at the end.

picture from: noregretsliving.wordpress.com

what did you call me?

Today at lunch time, the boys asked me if they could have a cookie. I said no and Truett immediately demanded to know why. Before I could even take a breath to explain, Jem answered him by saying, "Because Mommy's a dummy."
I'm not sure what my face looked like when I turned towards him but it must have been pretty bad because he was already trying to back away from me before I even started reaching for him. I pulled him out of his seat and sent him upstairs to his room to give myself time to calm down.
When I talked to him later, he didn't even remember what he had said. He told me he had called me silly or maybe stinky and I realized that he had probably heard it somewhere, school or tv, and didn't really understand what it meant. He knew enough to realize that it was unkind and we talked about how it hurt my feelings.
In reality, it caught me off guard and made me angry. It is hard to do so much, to try so hard, and to hear something like that. And I'm a little worried too because I'm sure worse things are coming. I can only hope that I am raising my kids to be kind and to consider their words. I can only hope that I can let those comments roll off my back and remember what it is like to be a kid and to disagree with your parents' decisions and that I can offer them grace even as I do my best to make sure it doesn't happen again.

photo by: drbexl  http://www.flickr.com/photos/drbexl-/4298144089/

ch ch ch changes

Tonight, after we finished eating our Thanksgiving meal, Caia decided to start walking. She took a step and fell into my arms and then wanted to do it again...and again...and again. So we got out one of the old walkers that the boys had used and put her behind it. She took one step and toppled over which is what I expected. My mom picked her up and put her behind it again and within a few minutes, Caia was walking around the room behind the walker.
I watched her, delighted at how much she was enjoying herself. And I watched her knowing that this was the start of a big change in our lives and not quite sure that I'm ready for it. But change is inevitable. Am I looking forward to chasing around a toddler? Not really. But I am looking forward to watching her try and succeed and being there to catch her when she stumbles.

Happy Thanksgiving!

May your day be filled with love, your heart with gratitude, and your belly with turkey. Mmmmm...turkey.

 

photo by: The Texas Collection, Baylor University  http://www.flickr.com/photos/texascollectionbaylor/5184440287/

gratitude, mom style

Since Thanksgiving is almost here, it seems appropriate to write a post about things I'm thankful for. And since this blog is mainly about my misadventures in motherhood, I thought I should list things that I'm thankful for that are focused around that. So here is my list of things that I, as a mom, am thankful for this year.

I am thankful ~

~ for my kitchen counter tops that hide dirt so well that I don't even realize they're dirty until I've leaned across them to grab something and my shirt sticks to them.
~ for nap time
~ that no one has flushed anything, besides toilet paper, down a toilet in the past 6 months, at least not that I'm aware of
~ that my boys have listened to the rule about not bringing bugs or worms or salamanders into the house
~ for that one magical night when we sat down to dinner and no one said "this is disgusting"
~ that I only have one child left in diapers
~ that my child only threatens to punch me in the face and that he doesn't actually attempt it
~ for big, round cheeks that are just dying to be kissed
~ for whispered prayers and goodnight kisses
~ for those moments when my children do the right thing without needing to be reminded
~ for preschool
~ for play dates and time with other moms who help remind me that I'm not alone
~ for 5:30 pm when the reinforcements arrive
~ for Jem, Truett and Caia, who fill my life with love, laughter, messiness, challenges and joy and who are training me to be a better person every day

photo by: Madison Faith  http://www.flickr.com/photos/madisonfaith/8145101096/

hide and maybe I'll find you

I was playing hide-and-seek with my kids last week which involves a bunch of running around and my boys hiding in very obvious places while yelling out "you can't find me." Then I pretend that I don't see their feet sticking out from underneath the ottoman or that I can't see them scrunched up under the table. But this time, I heard their feet heading up the stairs and I confess that for a moment, a brief tiny moment, I considered not looking for them. *Gasp* I considered laying down on the couch and letting them giggle and snicker and be amazed at how they must have done such a great job of hiding because Mommy couldn't find them. It was either a moment of weakness or genius. However, I ignored my impulse and went upstairs to continue our game. But it was a beautiful, albeit selfish, thought.

photo from: mcq.org

reaching for the stars

Last week during dinner, Sam asked Jem what he wants to be when he grows up. For a while, his standard response to that question was "a train." We didn't bother to explain to him that people can't actually be trains or fire trucks or other inanimate objects and just figured he would grow out of it. And I am happy to report that he has finally moved past his desire to be some sort of vehicle and now wants to be a chef. (That might be partly due to the fact that I let him watch Chopped with me every once in a while and he used to watch Ina and Paula with me.)
He quickly changed his mind though and declared that he actually wants to be a super hero when he grows up. Sam suggested that he be a super hero chef but Jem wasn't into that. So I explained to him that he could be a chef during the day and a super hero at night, sort of an alter ego thing. And my ambitious first-born replied, "Huh, that sounds like a lot of work. I should probably just sell hot dogs." Apparently my lazy gene didn't skip a generation. 

photo by: tbone_sandwich  http://www.flickr.com/photos/70267096@N00/4171044902/

say what?

This morning, while I was getting the cereal out of the cupboard, Tru asked me if he could have a banana. I told him he couldn't have one now and he said, "Okay Mommy."
Now, this is important and you might have missed it so I'm going to tell you again. My three-year old, the one who screams at me, throws things and knocks over chairs, was denied a request and responded by saying, "Okay Mommy." Do you know what the normal response is to being told that he can't have a banana at the precise moment that he wants one? On good days it's clenching his fists super tight and making the veins on his neck stand out while he yells, "You're so mad Mommy/I'm never talking to you again/Argh!" On bad days it's throwing something that happens to be within his reach or threatening to punch me. But today, it was a simple response. One that I have drilled again and again with both boys. When I say no to a request their response should be, "Okay Mommy." There shouldn't be whining or yelling or throwing of things.
Here's the kicker though. That beautiful response from my dragon went in one ear and out the other. I didn't even notice it. Truett actually pointed it out to me. "Did you hear what I said Mommy? I said okay Mommy." I am so used to the complaints and threats and anger that I completely missed my little boy offering me a good response. I missed that moment of praising him and making a huge deal out of it.
I'm so glad that he pointed it out to me. I'm so glad that I had the opportunity to tell him what a great job he did and how proud I was. But I wish that I had heard it on my own. I wish that I wasn't now wondering how many other opportunities to praise my boy have passed me by because I'm so tuned in to the inappropriate behaviors and responses.
That being said, I'm also just so glad that I had that moment to hold on to today. That moment of knowing that my kids do listen to me and that there is hope at the end of the tunnel.

photo from: davidpenglase.com.au

jiminy vs the dragon

I really don't like apologizing. I can't imagine that anyone does. Having to apologize means that you did something wrong, and I don't like other people to know that I mess up. The words are simple. "Please forgive me for..." It's the feelings and thoughts behind them that are so complicated and yucky. There can be a lot of justification, blame-shifting and shame. It's not easy to admit that you are wrong or that you've hurt someone.
This morning, I waged an internal battle with myself. I knew that my tone of voice and my exasperation with Jem warranted an apology. I fought it all the way to preschool.  
 Conscience: You should really say sorry to Jem. You weren't very nice to him.






Angry Monster Mom: Be quiet conscience or do you want some of this too?

                                               ~Silence~

Conscience: You should really say sorry to Jem. You weren't very nice to him.






Angry Monster Mom: Ugh. Seriously? The only reason I was gruff with him was because he wasn't listening and he was messing around. I mean, how hard is it to put your shoes on? Just sit down and put them on? And what was with the bike riding in the garage when he was supposed to be getting into his seat in the car? And really? All of a sudden he can't buckle himself in?! It's called trying!
                                              
                                              ~Silence~

Angry Monster Mom: But he won't say sorry for the things he did unless I tell him to. Why should I apologize when he won't?


Conscience: How else will he learn to accept responsibility for his own actions without blaming others unless he sees it in action?



Angry Monster Mom: Stupid, dumb logical conscience.







I so didn't want to apologize. Not because I didn't think that I was wrong but because it really stuck in my craw to know that he wasn't going to take any responsibility for what had happened that morning. And yes, I know he is five. But still. It isn't easy to take the blame for something and know that the other party involved also carries some of it but won't or can't acknowledge it. However, I do want to teach my boys to accept responsibility for their actions so I swallowed my pride and climbed into the back of the car and asked Jem to forgive me for losing my patience with him. He accepted my apology and, just as I knew he would, offered none of his own. There will be other times when this will happen again and I will prompt him to think of what he might have done wrong in the situation. This time though, I let it go. This morning's lesson was for me.

photos by: L-T-L  http://www.flickr.com/photos/rwjensen/2296819717/ and gd427driver http://www.flickr.com/photos/gd427driver/3156345314/

he has to clean everything!

Right now I'm listening to my oldest child and trying not to laugh. He is upstairs cleaning his room, the bathroom and the hallway. We had been spending time in the playroom and everything was going well until I took away a plastic water bottle that he was pretending to throw at me. Since my experience with my kids and throwing things isn't the greatest, I didn't really feel like flinching every few seconds just in case he actually did throw it. And suddenly our good time was no more. He got angry and I asked him to go to his room and think about his behavior. That led to a tirade during which he threw stuff around the hallway, pushed everything on the bathroom counter into the sink, and tore his room apart. That is why I am downstairs and he is upstairs cleaning.
At first, it started out as aggressive cleaning. I could tell that he was putting things back in their place with a little more force than necessary. That was when the mumbling started. "I have to clean everything! Clean, clean, clean! Clean this!", etc. It started out angry and grumpy and now has morphed into whiny and tearful. I can just picture him up there, crying about having to clean while he puts his comforter back on his bed. It's a tough life that he leads. And I promise, that is one thing he didn't pick up from me. I might not enjoy cleaning but I don't cry and I don't mumble about it under my breath. Although, I'm tempted to give the aggressive cleaning a try.

photo from: someecards.com

he's not mental, he's three

A sample of my day with Truett:

-As he was pulling his pants on this morning he calmly said to me, "Mommy, I don't love you. I love Daddy but I don't love you."

-After his pants were on, he asked me to button them. I told him that I would help him after he put his shirt on since I was in the middle of getting clothes for Caia. He found this unacceptable and proceeded to scream at me, "You have to button my pants! Button my pants!" He followed me downstairs and pummeled me with his tiny fists while I changed Caia's diaper and got breakfast around. When he started pulling magnets off of the fridge and throwing them around, I grabbed him and took him upstair, laid him on the floor, and told him that when he put his shirt on I would be happy to help him with his pants. He came back downstairs about a minute later with his shirt on and acted as though nothing had happened.

-When I told him that we were going to meet some friends at the park he said, "Sometimes I like you Mommy."

-He told me he was going to kick me after I told him that I couldn't play outside with him.

He was demanding and angry and self-absorbed and, sometimes, downright mean. And I realized that in anyone else that kind of behavior would be a sign of severe mental instability but for a three year old, it's just par for the course. Lucky me.
Thankfully not every day is so chock filled with these sort of things, but it happens more often than not. And all that I can do is try my best to meet each demand, each moment of anger, each unkind comment with love. I also have to continue to look at myself and see where Truett's behaviors are reflecting mine. Is he seeing me lose my cool and assuming that he can do the same? Do I give him the attention and focus that he needs so that he is able to think of other people and not only himself? Do I reflect a demanding or mean spirit? I'm not sure. I know that I don't always bleed love when Truett wounds me. Far too often I bleed anger and frustration.
I have no doubt that God gave me Truett for a reason. As I'm doing my best to navigate these tough years with him, he is shaping my character. Whether it's being shaped for the better or for the worse is entirely up to me and how I choose to respond to him and to myself when things are tough.

learning lessons

I get really frustrated with the way my boys treat their toys. They still lack a sense of responsibility when it comes to taking care of them. Inside toys are left outside to be ruined in the rain. Toys are thrown, sat on, used as swords and stood on. Things get broken and the attitude seems to be that it isn't a big deal because a new toy will come along to replace it.
They can also be very careless with other things. They've stretched out some of my bracelets, snapped a headband in two and broken two pairs of kitchen tongs. I feel like my house is the place where nice things come to die.
A few weeks ago, I was at my breaking point (no pun intended) with their destructiveness and informed them that the next toy they broke would go into the trash followed by one of their favorite toys that wasn't broken. Our toys have remained unscathed since then. And when Tru snapped my headband in two, I snapped one of his toys in two. To say he was unhappy was an understatement but he hasn't touched my things since then.
The other day though, it hit me that my kids aren't the only ones who lack responsibility when it comes to stuff. I was sitting in my family room and looking around and realizing that by not picking up and cleaning my house, I'm being irresponsible. And let me be clear that I am not saying that taking a break or skipping the dusting is a bad thing. There are those days when the best thing I can do for everyone is take some me time. However, it is far too easy for me to justify skipping out on my housework and it is far too easy for me to forget that owning a home is a blessing, not a right.

I want my boys to learn responsibility. I want them to be good stewards of the things that they've been given. And, as seems to be the case quite often lately, I'm learning that I need to have the same expectations of myself. I need to view my home and this role I have as a stay-at-home-mom as a privilege. I need to be a better steward of the things around me and right now, in this stage of life, that looks like staying on top of my housework, even if it feels pointless sometimes.

photo from: pinterest.com

dying by comparison

I compare myself to other people a lot. It's almost an unconscious thing. Sometimes I come out on top and sometimes I come out on the very, very bottom. It could be comparing my appearance, my skills as a mom, my cooking, the way I run my house, the car I drive, the books I enjoy. You name it and I've probably used it as a way to place myself into a pecking order.
I compare myself to the other moms at preschool. You know, the ones who look like they are going to work at Glamour Magazine after they drop their kids off. And I'm there in my yoga pants and one of Sam's sweatshirts, congratulating myself for running a comb through my hair before I headed out the door. I come out on the bottom end of that comparison.
I compare myself to my ideal of what a good mom looks like. That betty-crocker-baking, flour-on-her-nose, smiling-as-she-folds-laundry, scrubbing-the-floor-with-a-sponge, craft-making, song-singing, game-playing, book-reading monstrosity that I just can't seem to live up to. Oh, and on top of all of that, she never loses her temper, she's always pleasant to be around, and she's never tired. Guess where I end up on that comparison?
I compare myself to friends, strangers, family members and fictional characters. If you've met me, at some point I have compared myself to you in some way. Don't worry. I pretty much always pick out great traits in other people to compare to the things I struggle with in myself. It is exhausting.
And I know I'm not alone in this. I know of many other women who do the same thing. We take away from our own value because it doesn't look a certain way. I hear another woman complimented on her beauty and automatically think that mine must not match up. My friend is complimented on her baking skills and I just know that I must not be up to par. Comparing myself with others doesn't allow me to rejoice in their gifts and abilities. I'm not able to thank God for their ability to make amazing artwork or their gift with hospitality because I'm too busy seeing the lack in myself.
I want to be better than this. I want to come to a place where I can celebrate other people for who they are and know that it doesn't detract from who I am. And I want to figure it out sooner rather than later so that I can help my kids to avoid that feeling of dying by comparison.

photo from: photobucket.com

things...

Things that I just can't seem to get the hang of:

1. Using a leaf blower ~ Sam bought a leaf blower a few weeks ago since our new backyard has a lot of trees. He showed me how to turn it on and I watched him blow the leaves into a big pile. Looked easy enough. So the other day I figured I would help him out and blow a few leaves. I turned it on, which was hurdle number one. And then I proceeded to blow some leaves. The problem is that all I managed to do was blow the leaves around the yard. Apparently, getting them into a pile isn't a given. After watching leaves swirl around me and fly to all corners of our yard, I finally put the blower down and just pulled out the rake.

2. Folding bottom sheets ~ How in the world do you fold a fitted sheet so that it doesn't look like a four year old did it? I've seen nicely folded bottom sheets and I just don't understand how those women do it. Maybe the elastic corners aren't as tight as mine. Maybe they have super long arms that just allow them to hold the sheet taut and fold it at the same time. Or maybe it's just another skill set that I seem to lack.

3. Making friends with the other preschool moms ~ I'm not sure how friendships are born out of those two minutes that we all stand out in the hallway waiting for the doors to open. How do you get to know enough about a person in that short time to know that you want to see them outside of preschool? It sort of seems like speed dating. And most of the conversations that I hear or participate in have to do with the weather or asking how old the baby is that they are holding or speculating about when the door will finally open. Not really the sort of conversations that lead to more.

4. Cooking the right amount of pasta for my family ~ I always make too much for one meal but not enough for leftovers. Seems pretty simple but I mess it up every time.

photos by: alexabboud http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexabboud/5948634869/
                  andrew coulter enright  http://www.flickr.com/photos/andrewcoulterenright/11872109/
               baptistseminary.edu
                  foodiesathome  http://www.flickr.com/photos/thewrittengeek/4704626393/

my helpful menfolk

A few weeks ago Sam asked me if I could make a list for him of small jobs that need to be done around the house on a consistent basis. That way, when he has some down time he can clean something. Let me say that Sam always helps me whenever I ask him to. He doesn't complain when I ask if he can pick up the family room or put dinner away. But...he usually doesn't ask me to make him a list of every day chores that he can do. Okay, I'm pretty sure he has never asked me to do that. So you can imagine my surprise.
Then, yesterday Jem came downstairs from his nap and said, "Mommy, I could pick up the family room for you. Actually, maybe I should go up and clean my room first." And then he went upstairs and cleaned his room. Let me repeat that. He cleaned his room. By himself. Without me asking him. Without me standing over his shoulder telling him what goes where. That has definitely never, ever happened before.
I was slightly confused and suprised by all of this but I also started to feel like life was taking a giant turn for the better. But then Truett threatened to punch me in the face if I didn't give him a snack and I came back to my senses.

Photo by: Dave77459  http://www.flickr.com/photos/dave77459/2851799930/

the price of popularity

So guess who called me at my home last night? You'll never believe it, not in a million years. Mitt Romney! That's right. He called my house to talk to me. Unfortunately, his number came up as private on my caller id so I let him go right to voice mail. But he greeted us by name, "hello Miller family" and then said some stuff. I'm not sure what because his voice made me sleepy.
And then, about an hour later, Joe Biden called! Again, I let it go straight to voice mail because the number was weird. Joe didn't know our name but he did call us "valued citizens" and then said a bunch of other stuff, which I again didn't listen to because he sounded kind of pushy.
Some other people called too. I'm sure they had really great things to say but by that point I was starting to get a little frustrated. All I wanted to do was sit on the couch and watch a movie with my family, but instead I had to keep getting up to check the phone. Being popular is so hard! Eventually, I just pulled the battery out of the phone and gave it to Caia.
I'm sure I'll regret it tomorrow when I find myself standing in front of that voting machine. How will I know who to vote for since I didn't listen to the deluge of phone calls telling me what to do? Why did I let Mitt's voice lull me into a peaceful semi-coma? What if he said something earth shattering? And what about Biden? What if his pushiness just masked a deep personal concern for me and my family? Curses!

photo from: politico.com

daylight savings

Last night we turned the clocks back an hour, meaning an extra hour of sleep. The problem is that no one told my kids. They follow their internal clock and wake up around the same time every day, give or take fifteen minutes. So when their internal clocks said that they had slept enough, they wandered into our room. And, thanks to daylight savings, it was 5:45 am. Brutal.
Those are the kinds of things you just don't think about before you have kids. I never once stopped to think about how adding or subtracting an hour from the day would affect them. It was the worst when they were infants. I would finally have them on a great schedule and daylight savings would come along. You can't tell a screaming baby that her 8am feeding has now been pushed to 9am. She doesn't care and will simply continue to scream. So you have to fudge it and feed her an hour early and then try to push her a little longer than usual between feedings to make up for it. Or maybe that was just me. I had a tendency to be a little obsessive when it came to the schedule.
The boys did okay with it this time, apart from the early rising. They will most likely be tired and a little grumpy for the next few days as they adjust but that isn't really unusual. The problem is that I'm tired and grumpy now thanks to the early wake-up. And it doesn't help to listen to other people talking about how nice it was to have that extra hour of sleep last night. Thanks a lot daylight savings.

photo from: someecards.com

another confession

As we trick-or-treated last night, I was constantly reminding the boys to say "thank you" after they received candy. Sometimes they would do it without prompting but they would often forget. It was a good reminder that gratitude is not something that we are born with. It is a trait that needs to be cultivated. I can say with certainty that my kids' natural instinct is expectation, not gratitude. Just think of how a child responds at Christmas time or a birthday when the last gift has been opened. It isn't with, "Thank you so much for everything." Instead, they usually ask what else there is for them and are quite disappointed to learn that there isn't any more.
I want to cultivate gratitude in my kids. Unfortunately, I realize that it is something I struggle with myself. I've learned to say thank you and to not voice my expectations, but that doesn't mean that I don't have times of wanting to say, "What else is there? Isn't there anything more?" And it extends beyond material things. I look at my life and I say to God, "Is this it? I mean this is great and all but I was kind of hoping for..." Again, gratitude is not a natural state. It's something that has to be worked at.
It is humbling to know that I still struggle with some of the same things that my five and three year old struggle with. But, at the same time, I know that my story isn't done yet and that I can still continue to grow and change. And I'm thankful that God allows me to see myself in my kids, that He makes me aware of my shortcomings because it means that He loves me enough to want better for me.
So, to give me some practice, today I'm thankful for the following five things:
1. Dinner with my mom
2. Playing dominos with Jem
3. Halloween candy (chocolate)
4. The way my little girl smiles at me
5. Getting a sticker from Jem for being a "nice" mommy

photo by: chrisinplymouth  http://www.flickr.com/photos/chrisinplymouth/3556625492/

costumes make me crazy

I tend to be a last minute costume person when it comes to Halloween. This year, I headed out at the beginning of October determined to find something decent for the boys to wear. And then I saw the price. Thirty dollars for a preschooler's costume! There were even a couple for $40. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't spend that much money for something that they will only wear one time.
I went home discouraged and started looking online for costumes that I could make for the kids. So many great ideas out there! And so out of my comfort zone. Spray paint? A hot glue gun? Measuring and cutting? I just couldn't work up the energy to do it.
And so I found myself running to Target today to look for costumes, hoping that they would be on sale since it is Halloween day. No such luck. The costumes were still outrageously priced, at least by my standards. Plus, a lot of them seemed really inappropriate for preschoolers. Like this one:

 

 

Seriously!?! Who thinks it's a good idea to dress a three year old up as a demonic devil? What happened to being a fireman or a cowboy? It is so hard to find generic costumes. It's either really scary stuff or characters from tv shows.
Luckily, we were given one hand-me-down costume that fit Jem and I found a generic super hero costume for $10. It just had a vest, cape and mask but Truett was happy with it once he realized that I really wasn't going to buy him a sword and stopped screaming at me.
I think that I'm going to change tactics for next year. I'll head out this weekend and pick up some costumes once they are on sale. Or I'll find a crafty friend and pay her to make some for me. Or I'll just pray that they don't grow at all and still fit into their costumes from this year. Given my pattern, it will probably end up being option three but if I was being smart I would go with option one.