Before having kids, I was one of those people who vowed that my children wouldn't watch tv before they were two-years old. And then one day I discovered, quite by accident, that by pressing a button on the magic box, I was quickly left with a transfixed, enraptured child. Suddenly I could do things that had previously been impossible, like sitting down during the day.
To make myself feel better I set up strict rules about how often they could watch and the types of shows. One hour during the day and one hour in the evening. And for better or worse, I've stuck with that schedule. The temptation is always there; to let the tv replace me for a few hours but that isn't what I really want.
However today I broke my rule and pressed the button early. My excuse is that I woke up feeling sick; tired and achy. I struggled through the morning and when 10:30 hit, I was done. I was alternating between taking my turn in the Sneaky Snacky Squirrel game and lying on the floor. So I turned on the tv despite the raging guilt and the voice insisting that I was turning my child's brain into mush.
I can hear my mom clapping right now. She thinks I'm way too strict on the tv rule and often tells me it is okay to cut myself a break once in a while. But my fear is that one break will turn into two and that it will continue on in this downward spiral. At the end, I will be spending my day in bed while my kids sit and watch show after show, leaving permanent imprints of their tiny behinds in our couch. So today was an exception to the rule and tomorrow I will be back to ignoring the seductive lure of the magic box.
photo from:
medheadlines.com
Me: What did you learn about today?
Jem: About a blind man. He was blind. He couldn't see.
Me: Okay. And what else?
Jem: Jesus came and helped him. There was dirt and Jesus spit in it. How gross is that! He put it on his face and the guy washed it off in a pond.
Truett: You mean a creek.
Jem: No. It was a pond. Or it could have been a creek or something. And then he could see!
I guess I should be glad that he thinks spitting is gross. I just wish he felt the same way about playing in mud, touching worms and chewing with his mouth open. Beggars can't be choosers.
Last night I discovered the Achilles heal of my mothering abilities and it's name is emesis. (That's just a medical term for puke. I looked it up and I'm using it because it just sounds better.) Anywho...
Truett started to call for us around 3 am. Sam got up and went to his room and, shortly after that, called for me saying he needed some help. I assumed that Tru had wet through his pull-ups and that Sam wanted me to change him while he changed the sheets. If only I had been so lucky.
Instead, Truett had thrown-up and it was everywhere. We had to strip the bed and him. I had to wash out blankets and sheets and pajamas before I could put them into the washing machine. I had to wipe down the carpet and the wall and the plastic bouncy horse that was unfortunate enough to be standing next the crib. Sam had to wipe down Truett and the bed.
It was awful! I'm fine with rubbing someone's back or putting a wet washcloth on their neck while they kneel over the toilet. I can deal with the noises. But cleaning it up was rough. Not quite cleaning-out-the-drain-in-the-shower-rough, but still fairly bad.
This was my first experience with this. Besides the typical baby spit-up and one incident with bananas, we haven't had any vomiting. And I always knew it was a blessing but never realized how much of one until last night. If I can go the rest of my life without ever having to do that again, I will consider myself lucky. Let me put it this way. I would rather come up with my own craft project for my kids, one that included glitter, than to do that again. Well, maybe.
photo from: sarah-aubrey.blogspot.com -
I share my failures quite often on this blog but today I thought I would switch it up a bit and share one of my successes. The other night, as we were cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, I looked over just in time to see Truett kneel on the open dishwasher door. The dishwasher lurched forward and the door bent at an odd angle. I said his name and he quickly hopped off and said, "Sorry Mom. I didn't see it there." I told him that wasn't true and he turned and walked away. I called him back and talked to him about how it wasn't okay to pretend that he hadn't tried to sit on it. He walked away again and I went back into the kitchen.
As I was finishing up some dishes, I felt a prompting to go and find him. So I walked into the family room. He was sitting in the recliner, still glowering. I got down on my knees in front of him and told him that sometimes people make bad choices. I make bad choices and he made a bad choice to sit on the dishwasher but that it was okay. He sat forward, threw his arms around my neck and said, "I'm sorry I sat on the dishwasher Mommy."
And I knew that I had made the right decision to go and find him and offer him grace. I didn't shrug it off and continue with my task. I didn't make excuses and say that I had already talked to him or that he wouldn't really understand it anyway. And his response showed me that he needed to hear those words. So my prayer for this week has been that God would continue to prompt me. That I would be able to notice the times when my children need a little extra grace and comfort and that I would step into those moments without reservation. Because that feeling of having his arms around me and knowing that I had just soothed his heart was fantastic!
photo from: thesideproject.me
There are days when the only word I can use to describe being a mom of such young children is exhaustion. Days when everyone seems to need all of me all of the time. Days when I could swear the clock is moving backwards and I'm just hanging on until bedtime.
I recently watched an episode of Dowton Abbey and there was a conversation between the Dowager Countess and Isobel. It made me feel so much better about those days.
The Dowager: One forgets about parenthood; the on and on-ness of it.
Isobel: Were you a very involved mother with Robert and Rosamund?
The Dowager: Does it surprise you?
Isobel: A bit. I'd imagined them surrounded by nannies and governesses being starched and ironed to spend an hour with you after tea.
The Dowager: Yes. But it was an hour, every day.
photo from:thekarmickitchen.blogspot.com
It is interesting to watch your kids and see little gestures or facial expressions that remind you of someone else in your family. To see traits and be able to say that "they get that from so-and-so." It makes me feel connected and I love the sense of merging my family and our history and genes with Sam's family.
Caia is currently displaying a trait that comes from my side of the family. Her new favorite pastime is to put a small, yellow bucket on her head and walk around. She must be able to see just enough of her feet to steer clear of large objects. She thinks it is hilarious. Neither of the boys ever walked around at that age with buckets on their heads. But do you know who did? My brother and one of his girls.
And when I see one of my traits come out in our kids, I hold it over Sam's head. I use my Arnold Schwarzenegger voice to tell him that my powerful genes have defeated his weak ones. It's good stuff. Now I can only hope that a few of the more useful traits start to come through as well. Not that walking around with a bucket on your head doesn't require a certain amount of skill, but it really won't take you very far in life.
One day, when I was around three years of age, I got out of the car and slammed the door. As I slammed it, I looked at my mom and said, with pride in my voice, "I shut that door damn hard." Mom thought she must have misheard me and asked me to repeat myself. I said it again with a little less confidence and quickly learned that was something we didn't say. Meanwhile, my mom went inside to call her mom and talk to her about watching her language around us kids.
Sometimes your kids say something and you're left trying to figure out where they picked it up from. Did they hear it on tv? Did someone say it at preschool? Did they hear it from a friend or another family member?
Then there are the times when the answer is obvious. My mom didn't need to think about it. She knew where I had heard that word.
The other night, Sam was putting the boys to bed and came across a large mess. Tru had dumped legos out in the upstairs hallway. Sam asked Tru to pick them up and Truett responded by yelling, "You're the worst Daddy! You're the worst!"
As you can imagine, that didn't go over well and there were some consequences. I spent some time thinking about it and wondering where Truett had heard that phrase. Then, the next morning as I was ironing a rather tricky sweater, I heard myself say, "Ugh, this sweater is the worst." As soon as it came out of my mouth I knew. I knew that I was the one who had introduced that phrase to my boy. It can be pretty wild to listen to your kids talk. They pick up on so much. And there are things that I say out of habit that aren't good things. I don't even realize it until I hear it coming out of their mouths. And then, suddenly, it isn't okay to say. I don't swear around my kids so I sort of assume that I'm doing good. But this showed me that I need to have more care with all of my words. It is so easy to call something stupid or say that it's the worst. It can be second nature to throw out a sarcastic, "really?" when something isn't going the way I want. And my kids pick up on it and echo it and use it in hurtful ways. So here's hoping that I can model some beautiful words for my kids to help replace the not so great ones I've already given them.
photo from: cutecopy.com.au
