miracle

The other day I made the apparently horrible decision to pause the tv while the boys were watching a show. I had something to tell them and was planning on turning it right back on. However, Truett did not think much of my idea and let me know by screaming and throwing a toy at me. I calmly told him that he needed to go sit in his seat for a time-out.
I turned the show back on and allowed Truett to come back over and watch once his time-out was finished. Normally, after time-outs, the boys have to tell me why they had to do a time-out and then apologize to whomever they offended or hurt. But sometimes I forget or sometimes I'm just too tired or sick of time-outs to bother with it. I know, not great parenting. This was one of those times. I let Tru come back in and I completely forgot to ask him what he did that was wrong and have him apologize. But about five minutes later, as we were sitting watching the show, Tru looked at me and said, "I sorry for throwing the toy at you Mommy." I thanked him for his apology and told him that I forgave him. And then I ran to the phone, called Sam at work and said, "It works!"
I actually didn't do that but I wanted to. It is so easy sometimes to feel like the time and effort of disciplining isn't worth it. They just do the same thing over and over. But then there is a moment like that when I see a tiny glimmer of hope and it gives me enough push to keep on trying. The next moment could be one week from today or one month from today but I have faith that it will come so I will keep trying.

it was all yellow

I'm trying to transition Jem out of wearing diapers at night. I probably wouldn't even worry about it except that I'm noticing that the other moms I know with kids his age aren't buying diapers anymore. It isn't going that well though. He is a really deep sleeper and he just doesn't seem to wake up in time. The one good part about it is that he will wake up after he has peed and he will change his underwear and pants by himself. He is usually doing it in the dark so sometimes his underwear or pants are on backwards. But I'm not complaining. He just lets me know in the morning that he didn't make it.
The other morning when I went in, he was laying in bed wearing a pair of corduroy pants. And not the nice, soft kind. These were stiff black ones that we only put on him when we get dressed up for Christmas Eve service at church. They are probably the most uncomfortable pants that he owns. But they were the only ones available so he pulled them on and slept in them.
I am also in the process of toilet training Truett. He just turned three and I'm starting to worry that I waited too long. He was probably ready to potty train about six months ago. He went through this phase when he would ask to pee on the potty and I would, to my shame, tell him that it was okay to just go in his diaper. Before you judge me, I was about eight months pregnant and carrying an eleven pound baby. But now he isn't showing much interest and I'm worried that I missed my window. 
The other day, I put him in big-boy underwear and we went downstairs. My mom, who was going to be watching the kids for me that morning, arrived a few minutes later. I let her know that he was wearing underwear. She turned to him and asked him if he needed to use it and he said, "No. I already went." He had already peed in his pants and when she asked him why he said, "I needed to warm up by the fire." 
I'm seeing a lot of laundry in my future.

photo by JimRhoades  http://www.flickr.com/photos/pixpeep/3841029237/

singing the blues

This morning in church our pastor told us about a woman he came across in Aruba. She works at the resort where he and his wife were vacationing. For 8 hours a day she mops the floors of the two lobbies and the hallway that connects them. And while she does this seemingly mundane, unimportant task, she sings hymns. She has a beautiful soprano singing voice and she sings the entire time that she is mopping. She sings while people walk over her freshly mopped floors, leaving shoe prints and smudges behind. My pastor said that she has made that hallway and those two lobbies into her cathedral.
And it made me stop and think about my attitude when I am doing dishes, mopping the floor and scrubbing toilets. Most days I just accept those types of tasks as an inevitable part of life, something that needs to be done.I'm not necessarily grumbling and complaining about them, but I'm certainly not signing hymns while I work. I often find myself wondering why I even bother because my kids are just going to mess it up again anyway. Just last week I cleaned my house so that I could host card club and the next evening it looked like I had done nothing at all. The dining room floor was dirty. Toys were strewn around the living room. Dishes were sitting in the sink. And I was so frustrated. My hard work seemed to be so pointless.
So there is absolutely no way I would be singing hymns as people walked across my floor. I would be yelling at them and grumbling and complaining. I might even make a rude gesture behind their back. I know, shocking. And I want to end my post with something super encouraging about how I'm a work in progress and that someday I, too, will sing gospel songs while I scrub the floor. And maybe that will happen. But for now I'm just going to be truthful and acknowledge that sometimes I have a sucky attitude and let that be enough.

why

I remember hearing parents talk about how frustrated they were when their children would continue to ask them why all of the time. And I also remember not really understanding what the issue was. Even when Jem was first starting to ask why, I didn't see the big fuss. He would ask why birds had nests or why grass was green and I would do my best to answer him. Besides, at that point he was still okay when I would just tell him that I didn't really know or because God made it that way.
But now it's different. Now I understand what those parents were talking about. I still don't mind the whys that come along with learning about something or encountering something new. But it's those other whys. The ones that make no sense.
Jem: Can we go to the park?
Me: Sure buddy.
Jem: Why?
Me: What do you mean why? Do you want to go to the park or not?
These are the whys that I don't understand and that tend to frustrate me. They ask me if we can do something and when I say yes they ask me why. What is that about? Or the whys that come along with being asked to do something, like come to the table or put on their shoes.
And why is it that one small, three-letter word can make me lose my cool? I don't really know. Maybe it shows me how little control I have over things. Maybe it makes me feel disrespected. Maybe I'm just tired. Whatever it is, it's just one more thing to work on.



photo by tlchua99  http://www.flickr.com/photos/tlchua99/4193348013/

On Wednesday when I dropped Jem off at preschool there were a few new toys out, one of which was a pirate ship. The boys have just started watching Jake and the Pirates on Disney and we often spend our lunch times pretending that we are on a ship. I'm Captain Mommy and they are my crew. So I was excited to see a pirate ship toy until one of the little girls playing with it looked up and screamed, "No, Jem. You can't play with this."
This is the same little girl who used to come up to me last year and tell me that Truett wasn't allowed to play with toys and that he needed to leave with me. I did my best to reply in a gentle tone of voice, assuring her that it was okay and that he would be coming with me as soon as I left. Really I wanted to tell her to mind her own business and that she wasn't the boss.
And now she is standing there yelling at my kid, telling him that he can't play with something. That he isn't wanted. And I wanted to walk across the room and get in her face. To tell her that she has no say over who plays with what toy and that my boy will play with any toy that he wants and she had better just shut her bossy little mouth. Thankfully the teacher stepped in and corrected her and I was saved from dealing with the situation.
It was a reminder that this is coming sooner than I think. My children are going to come home from school or birthday parties or sunday school and they are going to be upset. They will tell me that so-and-so wouldn't play with them or that someone made fun of them. And I won't be allowed to physically harm those kids but I will probably think about it. How can you not want to hurt someone who hurts your children? But the only thing I'll be able to do is dry their tears and hopefully use the hurt to teach them about compassion and kindness. At least, that is my plan and it seems a little more reasonable than yelling at little kids.

i'm going to walk the plank

This is the pirate ship that Truett got for his birthday. It's pretty cool. It had cannons, pirates, a treasure chest, rope ladders, etc. Both boys were super excited when Tru opened it the other night.
It did not come out of the box looking like this. Nope. It came in 27 different pieces that needed to be screwed together. And I pulled it out of the box on a day when both of my boys were home. I didn't know how much assembly was going to be required of me. If I had known, I would have hidden the box and then lied about it whereabouts.
It had already been a hectic morning because there wasn't any preschool. Thanks a lot President's Day. And it was made more hectic by the stupid pirate ship. It took me an hour and 20 minutes to put it together. It might have happened more quickly if I wasn't interrupted every five minutes by someone asking if I was finished yet, picking up random pieces to look at them and asking where the pirates were. By the time I finished, I was thoroughly frustrated. I was tired of the boys not listening to me and continuing to touch things. I was tired of trying to line up the little holes and get the screw to go in straight. But when I carried it out to the living room and I saw how excited the boys were to play with it, it all seemed worth it.
And then they played with it for eight minutes. Eight freaking minutes. Yep. That's just how it goes sometimes. The next time we get a toy that requires some assembly, I think I'll wait until Daddy is home to open the box.

one is the loneliest number

Today is one of those days. It feels like no matter how much I try, I just can't catch up. I finally get the breakfast dishes cleaned up only to realize that I have to make bread for dinner, which means more dishes. Or we get the toys picked up in the living room but the sunroom is still a disaster.
This one wants some water. That one wants me to print out a coloring page. Someone needs to use the potty. Little girl is crying. Someone is screaming and someone is being tackled to the ground in frustration.
I feel like the only thing I say to my boys anymore is, "Just a minute." And I'm not the only one who thinks so. The other day, I was in our downstairs bathroom washing my hands when Jem called out for something. I asked him to just give me a minute and I would be right with him. That is when I heard him say, "In a minute. In a minute. That's all you ever say anymore."
My kids don't seem to realize that I only have two hands and that I can only be in once place at a time. And today is one of those days when I need another me to help out. Maybe it's time to take a look at Mormonism. Ha!
Just kidding. Sort of.