you can't have love, only toys

My birthday was last week. Due to certain circumstances, we weren't able to really celebrate it until a few days later. This was difficult for Jem. Like any young child, he becomes very excited by the idea of a birthday. The day of my birthday he kept reminding me that we needed to celebrate. We needed a cake and presents. It was really sweet. I told him that we would be celebrating on Sunday night with his grandparents. He seemed content with that answer.
Later, however, he again reminded me that we hadn't done anything for my birthday. He told me that I should bake myself a cake with marshmallows because he really likes marshmallows. And then he asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I told him that I wanted a hug and a kiss from him. He gave me both and we then had this conversation:

Jem: But what do you really want mommy? Maybe you want a new game item. (this was referencing his leapster and the game cartridges it uses)
Me: I don't think so buddy.
Jem: Then what do you want?
Me: I just want hugs and kisses.
Jem: (fairly exasperated) Mommy, you can't have love for your birthday. Birthdays aren't for love they are for toys, only toys.

Apparently, the concern over my birthday celebration had nothing to do with me. Instead, it was all about his ill-conceived idea that I would be getting toys for my birthday that he would be able to play with. Needless to say, he was very disappointed.


photo by .shann  http://www.flickr.com/photos/shnnsayangdia/2818525884/

fool me once...

Apparently, Truett is potty-trained. Who knew? Certainly not me. I've been sporadically having him wear big-boy underwear and the results have been mixed. And yes, I know that switching him back and forth from diapers to underwear isn't the best plan. But the thought of dealing with a complete outfit change at the park, while trying to keep an eye on the other two kids, is overwhelming.
 But today, I decided that it was time to bite the bullet and send him to school in underwear. I packed an extra set of clothes for him and made him use the potty right before we left.  Then, when we got to school I had him tell his teachers that he was wearing underwear, like it was something super special. And his teacher turned to me and said, "Oh, he uses the potty all the time."
What?! The kid peed in his pants two times on Monday and again yesterday. But he uses the potty at school? All the time?
So apparently he is potty-trained, just not at home. Why is he peeing in his pants at home? Is he marking his territory? Is he trying to punish me for all of the time-outs? Does he just assume that it is okay to pee in his pants at home because Mommy will take care of it?
His teacher told me they've been wondering why I've been sending him to school in diapers. It's because I've been outsmarted by a three-year old.

fashion tips from Homer

I'm scared that by signing on to be a mom I unknowingly purchased a ticked to frumpville. I'm worried that people will be able to tell I have children just by looking at me. Granted, I'm not putting in a lot of effort most of the time but what's the point? I'm going to be spending my entire day with preschoolers. It doesn't exactly call for my best outfit. But I don't want to be frumpy or dowdy.
It started so subtly. I would make the decision to pull my hair up because it saved me time in the morning which meant a few more minutes of sleep, also known as one of the most wonderful things ever. Then, I started wearing sweatpants because I'm not going anywhere and why shouldn't I be comfortable? I started driving the hated mini-van and singing along to veggie tales. And then there were more pregnancies and my pre-pregnancy body took longer and longer to come back. I discovered why they call it a muffin top and started walking past the cute bikinis in the store telling my kids that they "ruined mommy's body and now she has to wear swimsuits with more fabric than bedsheets."
This is a day when I'm unhappy with myself. A day when feeling pretty again feels like the biggest thing in the world. It's not. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter at all. 
I believe that women are made to reflect beauty and that we do so by being who we were meant to be. We reflect beauty to others when we are content with who we are and comfortable in our own skin. My skin has changed and I'm still trying to adapt to it. To shift my idea of what makes me beautiful. Some days I do alright and other days, like today, I want to cry, eat a big bowl of ice cream and just give up and start wearing mumus a la Homer Simpson.


photo by betty...a  http://www.flickr.com/photos/bettyyy/2372951931/

it's starting already

Sam and I have talked before about what our boys will be like in high school. We have decided that Jem will either be oblivious to girls or he will be completely awkward around them. Truett, on the other hand, will have girls swarming around him like bees and he will milk every second of it. And it has already started.
There is a little girl in Tru's class at preschool who noticed him the very first day. We stood outside of the classroom waiting for the door to open and she walked up and stood right in front of him. She then copied every move he made. He took his coat off and so did she. He walked back up the stairs and she followed. She would maneuver herself to be closer to him. And apparently, it paid off. Just last Thursday his teacher told me that there is a budding romance. She didn't give me details but she said that they play together and that Tru is very sweet with Sara*.
There is a part of me that thinks it is really cute. And there is a part of me that wonders if Tru would benefit from being in a friendship with a girl who may be more likely to follow directions and listen. And then there is a part of me that is scared to death about this boy and what it will be like to navigate the whole girl/boy relationship thing with him as he grows up. Will I do a good enough job of teaching him to respect girls? Will I be able to teach him to see them as people and not objects? And what will I do when he brings home a girl that I don't like? I have no plans to be a mom who thinks that no one is good enough for her boy. I am well aware of who Truett is and I have a feeling that the right girl could do wonders for him. But I also know that finding the right person can take some trial and error and I want to handle that with grace. Thankfully, I have a couple of years before I really have to start thinking about that stuff. For now, I can just enjoy the cuteness of this little girl who has decided that my crazy, wild dragon is her prince in disguise.

*not her real name

photo by LR Monkeytoes/Lisa  http://www.flickr.com/photos/lrmonkeytoes/496905686/

inner primate

Tonight at dinner, Jem asked, "What's a soul?"
The question came out of left field and I started to answer but then stumbled a little. I had started to say that it was the part of us that went to live with Jesus in heaven when we died but we haven't really talked too much about death yet so I wasn't sure I wanted to start that conversation. Thankfully, Jem answered his own question.
"Is it the good stuff in my heart?" We agreed with that description but he wasn't done. "Like the candy and the gorillas?"
Why does my kid think that he has gorillas in his heart? Candy I get. Both of my boys are in love with candy, as are most kids. But gorillas? And then he wanted to know what kind of animals we had in our hearts. It was like a psychology test or something. And we failed. We didn't know that we were supposed to tell him that we, too, have gorillas in our hearts. According to Jem, everyone has gorillas in their hearts. Just thought you might want to know about your inner primate.  


photo by l.e.t.  http://www.flickr.com/photos/les-enfants-terribles/2918415676/

my stupid problem

Every once in while I get some time without any kids. A grandparent will take them out for lunch or to the market and I'll find myself with an hour or two of freedom. I will be overwhelmed with gratitude and then I will begin my transformation into a chicken without its head. You can ask Sam. Suddenly I'm running around flapping my hands, completely flustered because I only have two hours and what should I do with my two hours? Do I go to the book store and sit and read? Do I go and look for a new pair of sandals since my flip-flops are looking a little ragged? Do I stay home and clean because I know I'll be able to rip through it since there won't be any need to stop? Do I drive in my car and play real music cranked up at a high volume? Do I take a nap? See. Chicken without a head. But those two hours are so precious that the thought of wasting them makes me want to cry. And I get overwhelmed with the possibilities and usually end up doing one thing while thinking the entire time about how maybe I should have done something else. Am I the only one who does this? I wonder if other moms, given some time alone, are just as apt to be confused about what to do with themselves. Are they overwhelmed by the freedom or are they better able to handle it? It's like my inner two-year old comes out and I just run around yelling and bumping into things. I am not normal.


photo by Jacob...K  http://www.flickr.com/photos/jacobkrejci/3304454742/

annoying

The other night I was in the presence of someone who rubs me the wrong way for various reasons. I'm convinced that other people feel the same way about him. How could they not? But as I was complaing about him in my head I had a new thought. I am not the authority on who is annoying and who isn't, and maybe while I'm sitting there thinking bad thoughts about him, someone else is sitting there thinking bad thoughts about me. Maybe I'm their annoying person. A series of haiku was called for. Okay, not really but it seemed like a fun way to write about it.

He irritates me

Arrogance personified

Please, please stop talking

Do you feel the same?

You must! He's so bothersome.

Surely you agree

Wait! You don't agree?

You find me irritating?

Oh. This is awkward.





photo by tcumaniac http://www.flickr.com/photos/53830816@N06/5571816598/