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