photo by TS Gentuso
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tsgentuso/362134335/
I hear it in my voice. Exasperation. Frustration. Annoyance. And if I hear it, then you can bet that my kids hear it too. Nothing is going on. There haven't been any major altercations. No huge temper tantrums or displays of attitude. Instead, it has been small minor things. Ignoring a request to cease doing something. Needing to be called to the table three or four times before coming. Demanding that something be done now. Making messes and walking away from them. Minor things that taken individually are just moments where correction is needed. But put them all together and it is like being pecked to death by baby birds.
I get tired and I get worn down. And then I begin to react to my kids rather than parent them. I start to let their behavior dictate my behavior instead of the other way around. Those are the days when I need to step outside and take a few deep breaths. I need to pray and ask God to help me see my kids through a lens of love and patience. And sometimes I just need to scream out my frustration so that I can go back inside and be the mommy that they need me to be. The mommy who can discipline without demeaning and who speaks with love. That's right. I go outside and I scream. I am that weird. But it really does help. Try it and see. I dare you.
photo by Pete Herron
http://www.flickr.com/photos/peteherron/3478366311/
Today, Sam and I took the kids to my parents' house for lunch. When it was time to leave, we packed all of the kids into the minivan. We actually had two cars there so Sam hopped into the jeep and I hopped into the minivan. My parents live in a gated community. Sam headed for the exit that takes you the long way around and I decided to head for the closer exit that dumps you out at a light that takes forever and a day to change. I was just curious as to which way is actually faster. What I didn't take into consideration was the reaction the boys would have watching their Daddy drive away in a different direction. One simple turn of my wheel and suddenly I had two little boys crying hysterically in the back seat. I actually started to laugh because it seemed so absurd. And then I realized how upset they really were. I asked them what was wrong and Jem said, "Where is Daddy? Is he going to work?" I assured both of them that Daddy was not going to work and that he was going to meet us at our house. And, as luck would have it, Sam passed us as we were sitting at the forever and a day light. It turned green right after he turned in front of us so I was able to drive the rest of the way behind him. Once they had him back in their sights, the boys settled down and all tears ceased. There is no doubt that Daddy is the favorite in our house right now.
It has to be tough as a kid to figure out who really exists and who doesn't. There is the tooth fairy, the easter bunny, Santa Claus, leprechauns. The list goes on and on. And then God gets thrown in there with stories about fish swallowing people, guys not burning up in a fire, and blind men regaining their sight. I would have a hard time knowing what was real and keeping my facts straight.
Jem has apparently decided to mash them all together. Today, I sat at my mom's table and listened as he sang a song for us about Johnny Appleseed. I never did hear Johnny mentioned but I did catch the words elf and leprechaun and the phrase, "we are weak but he is strong." I did my best to listen intently and not burst out laughing but it was pretty tough.
This was followed by Jem randomly informing my mom that Jesus is the lord of summer.
Gaga: Oh. Well then who is the lord of winter?
Jem: Jesus and God are the lord of winter too.
Gaga: Okay. What about spring?
Jem: The leprechaun is the lord of spring.
Gaga: And fall?
Jem: The holy holy is the lord of fall.
I wonder if Jesus knows that the leprechaun took over springtime? Tricky little bugger.
photo by dabidovich
http://www.flickr.com/photos/dabidovich/383084070/
This week, Jem's preschool class pulled out dress-up clothes. There are pirate bandanas and spyglasses, princess dresses and tiaras, police vests and cowboy hats. It has been fun to drop him off and see the kids dressed up and pretending together.
It has not been fun to try and explain to Truett, two days in a row now, that he can not have the pirate spyglass. Yesterday, he spent the car ride home crying about it and insisting that he needed one. I suggested that we find something at home and pretend that it was a spyglass, like a paper towel roll. This brought on another round of tears since that isn't the same. Then, he had the great idea that Mommy could make one for him. This might be because I've done my best to make other things for him in the past, like a sword and a pinwheel.
When we got home, I sat down and looked up how to make a spyglass and then told him that it was too difficult. Translation: it would take too long and mommy doesn't want to. Yeah, I know. Shame on me. But I'm not a craft person and reading those instructions didn't get me jazzed up. It just made me tired. Especially when I know that he will destroy it within 30 minutes.
After more tears, he wandered over to the toy bin, pulled out an old paper towel roll, and said "I can use this Mommy." I wanted to respond with something snarky but held my tongue and decided to count it as a victory.
And today, he actually managed to get his hands on the spyglass in Jem's room before I had to take him down to his own room. This was even worse than just seeing it. My normally happy boy who runs into his classroom was suddenly crying and hanging onto my leg. I had to peel his arms off of me and run out of the room while he cried and tried to follow me. So I'm thinking that a craft might be in my future today. Curse you spyglass!
photo by scopepart2010
http://www.flickr.com/photos/51345906@N04/4741705621/
This morning after I dropped the boys off at preschool, I ran to the grocery store with Caia to pick up some stuff for the week. There weren't too many people around, grapes were on sale for $0.99/lb., and I was making good time, so all in all it was turning out to be a pleasant shopping experience. Unlike my experience last week that I ranted about in a post. Of course, that all fell to pieces when I had my run-in with the display of canned tomatoes.
Before I explain said run-in, I would like to offer up a few excuses to absolve myself. First of all, having Caia's car seat sitting in the top of the cart pretty much blocks my view of anything directly in front of my cart for about five feet. I have to constantly check to make sure that I'm clear before I move ahead. Secondly, I really don't think that the store has any business putting a display of cans in the middle of the aisle, especially when the same product is only a few feet away on the shelf where it belongs.
But, regardless of the reasons, I pushed my cart into a display of canned tomatoes and watched as they did a slow-motion tumble to the ground and rolled down the aisle. As if that weren't enough, it happened immediately after I passed a store manager who heard the commotion and came back to clean up my mess.
I apologized profusely and offered to help but he waved me away. I can't say that he was super nice about it but then again, he probably has someone up in corporate telling him to stack cans in the middle of the aisle (where they don't belong!) and they never have to deal with crazy women who knock them over. I really wanted to continue down the aisle to grab something else but thought that might be pushing my luck so I turned around and continued back the way I had come, my face burning with shame. Good times.
photo by Dias Photopop
http://www.flickr.com/photos/dias-photopop/6854055501/
I had some time away this weekend. My mom and I took an overnight trip with Caia and Sam stayed home with the boys. When I pulled up to the house today, Sam was pulling up at the same time. The boys clambered out of the car and ran over to me full of excitement. But they didn't want to give me hugs or kisses or tell me how much they missed me. They wanted to give me rocks that they had brought home from their time at a friends house.
Sometimes I get kisses. Occasionally there are hugs and every once in a while there is an unsolicited "I love you mommy." But mostly I get rocks, or worms, or prickly seed pods, or cicada shells. My boys haven't figured out yet that I don't really want to hold worms and slugs. I usually just ask them to set them down next to me or put them into a bucket. And I always do my best to be very enthusiastic about their discoveries. Because as much as I would love hugs and kisses and love yous, I've learned that this is part of their love language. These are the things that fascinate them; that bring them wonder and excitement. And I am the one they want to share that with. Right now, that is a bigger "I love you" than any kiss or hug.
