Holy cow, nothing in this world can frazzle a person like three busy little children. I love my boys, but I am the first to admit that they run the show around here. I may be in charge, but that doesn't mean I can control everything! This morning for instance went something like this:
7:00: Wake up to Mr. two year old crying for food. I had to remove Oldest from my legs by rolling him onto Daddy. Sorry about the rude wake up call Daddy! Step out of bed and collapse on the floor. Apparently the oldest had been cutting off the blood circulation to my legs and I think I may need a minute to retain proper blood flow. (ouch........needles!)
7:15: OK, I'm now "up and at em," as my dad used to say, and searching the cupboards for fruit cocktail to appease Mr. two year old. Apparently nothing else will do. Found it! Good, now where is my can opener? Not in the drawer, why that would be too easy. I'm now on all fours, searching through cupboards for the missing can opener while Mr. two year old's patience is growing thin, (this I can tell by the increased volume of his whining) meanwhile, Oldest has found a video he wants to watch and has turned the volume way up on the TV. The blast makes me jump and I bang my head on the roof of the cupboard I'm crawling in. Like Lightning McQueen I run, while rubbing the bump, to turn down the volume. Too late! As soon as the volume of the television decreases, I hear a startled baby awake and screaming upstairs.
7:20: Still haven't found the can opener, but baby needs to get up, so I travel up to retrieve him with Mr. two year old in hysterics over his fruit. I assure him that I haven't forgotten, and that I'll only be gone a moment and race upstairs to welcome Baby to the day! Daddy is already picking him up when I get there, but he has to get ready for work, so he hands him to me and heads into the bathroom for a shower. Baby is now happy to be awake, and shows me so by playfully ripping my glasses from my face and shoving them in his mouth. One handed I remove them from his tight grasp, and wipe the smudges on my p.j.'s before shoving them back onto my face. They are still smudged, but they'll do for now.
7:25: "Holy cow, I'll get your fruit, just calm down little one!" Mr. two year old had been temporarily distracted by Oldest’s video choice while I was getting Baby, but now that I'm back down stairs, his mind has returned to the fruit. Baby needs a new diaper, but he'll have to wait a minute. My search for the can opener resumes and finally after a few more minutes I find it wedged inside the baby bouncer in the corner. I open the can of fruit and pour it while being climbed on by Mr. two year old. I pour some into a bowl and put it on the table. He's so excited he claps and knocks it to the floor.
7:30: I'm pouring a second bowl of fruit. I do have the can opener this time, so it goes a bit more quickly. Unfortunately Baby has now entered the picture and the mess of fruit on the floor is very tempting. He dashes to it and slips in the juice. His mouth bonks hard on the kitchen floor and his wailing is loud enough to pull the oldest away from his show. "I'll clean it," he says and runs to the laundry room for a mop.
7:40: Baby's happily eating cheerio's in his high chair while I am busy cleaning chunks of fruit cocktail from the mop. The oldest and Mr. two year old are now both at the table with their cereal, fighting over the box. I retrieve another cereal box from the cupboard, but apparently it's not as cool as the first, and the storm continues over the cool box. After an unheeded warning ("stop fighting or you'll lose the box!"), the box is removed from the table. The storm now transforms into a hurricane and it's heading straight for me. I leave them at the table to calm down and run upstairs for a second with daddy.
7:45: Daddy needed something to wear to work, so now I'm ironing a shirt in the kitchen while the boys blow bubbles in their milk. Laundry is not my forte, but I throw a load in the washer while the iron heats up. Daddy will need lunch too, and the boys need baths, so as soon as they are done, (and after I throw together a few quick peanut butter sandwiches, Daddy’s personal favorite by force) I round them up and head upstairs to the big bath tub, leaving the breakfast clean-up for later. As I'm getting them ready for the bath, Daddy comes in to say goodbye. The boys are already stripped down, but we need to pray, so we kneel in the bathroom. A three minute argument over who gets to pray ensues, and finally Daddy ends up saying it. Well, at least we're trying!
8:00: Here I must repeat what I have written before.... holy cow! Three men in a tub didn't go very well in the nursery rhyme if I remember right, and three little men in a tub, I can personally vouch for, is a little insane too. It is quicker than three separate baths however, and so we give it a try. "Oldest stop splashing, Baby sit down, Mr. two year old don't drink the water, Oldest, don't dump that on Baby, It's ok Baby, Mr. two year old don't pee in the tub, ok everyone has to get out now, we need to change the water!"
8:30: Getting Baby dressed is not as easy as it used to be. My husband wrestled in high school and he's taught me a few moves. As tricky as Baby is to get dressed, I'd have to say the older two are harder. Mr. two year old is refusing to wear anything with long sleeves, though the temperature is around forty degrees outside, and Oldest insists on wearing a yellow button up shirt with orange sweat pants. "Where on earth did we even get these pants" I allow him to wear them, but he has to agree to change his shirt……done.
8:45: We have to leave by nine to make it to story time at the library and so far so good, except that Baby has now dirtied his diaper again and I haven't looked in the mirror once today. I pull out my wrestling moves once more and change Baby.
8:50: I'm in my closet deciding what to wear. Oldest is hiding behind the door and Mr. two year old is begging to play Candy Land. Baby is trying to pull my alarm clock out of the wall. I run to rescue him from electrocution and accidentally run over Mr. two year old's game board. He's not happy, but Baby is. He thinks electricity is a game of some sort and heads straight back for the outlet before his knees hit the ground. I remove the alarm clock from the wall and push a plastic plug cover in, Daddy will have to reset it again before bed tonight, sorry Daddy! I pick a shirt and pair of pants, they don't have too many noticeable little finger stains on them so they'll do.
8:55: I'm dressed and brushing my teeth. I've spent more time cleaning my teeth than on my hair. I glance at my pony tail in the mirror and shrug.......good enough. Baby's playing with deodorant, Mr. two year old is scribbling on the potty with my eyeliner and where is Oldest? "Oh no!" Oldest is hiding again. He started this daily tradition a few weeks ago and sometimes finding him can be tricky because he is more silent and patient while hiding than during any other time.
9:00: Found Oldest in the pots and pans cupboard downstairs, he revealed himself after I threatened to keep everyone home from the library. I grab the keys, grab my phone, grab the i-pod, grab the bag and head for the car. Oops, forgot Baby! Go back inside and grab Baby from his pile of DVD's wondering all the while why they are so irresistible to him, last time I checked they weren't electric.
9:05: Back in the van the oldest two boys are hiding behind the back seat. Once again the threat to stay home gets the ball rolling and within two minutes everyone is strapped in. "Mommy, I have to go potty." I hear softly from the back seat followed by the louder version from Oldest, "MOMMY, HE HAS TO GO POTTY!" Frustrated but happy that he's telling me instead of just going, we run back inside and take care of the business. While inside I remember that I never switched the laundry from the washer to the dryer, so I do that while Mr. two year old is going. He finishes, we wash hands, grab a binki for Baby, turn off the light and run out to the car.
9:18: We're on our way! Everyone is fed, (expect me, woops, did I even eat?) happy, and ready for the library. We'll be a little late, but that's not out of the ordinary. We arrive at a stop sign and I take a second to glance down at my feet. "Rats......... I forgot my shoes!"
Monday, October 29, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
A Halloween Story
Boo was a little white ghost who haunted the spooky house on Acorn Drive. All year long he would sit in his attic and peak out the window at people passing by. He wanted so much to play with someone, and so from time to time he would pop his head out the window and call down, inviting everyone to come inside. Unfortunately, the people would always scream and run away, leaving Boo sad, and alone.
As Halloween approached, Boo came up with a plan to make friends. He decided he would carve three happy faces into three big pumpkins and place them on his porch. When the children walked by his house on Halloween night, they would see them and stop at his house to trick-or-treat. He would give them his delicious home made caramel apples and they would be so impressed, Boo was sure they would want to come inside and play games.
On the morning of Halloween, Boo was busy in his spooky kitchen, finishing his caramel apples. He placed them on the counter to cool down and slipped on his orange jacket. He left his spooky house in search of three big pumpkins. Up the street he flew, humming a happy ghost tune. He was positive his plan would work. In a few hours, he would be playing with his new friends.
Boo did discover one problem with his plan. He wasn’t sure where to look to find pumpkins. As he searched, he came upon a little girl running in her yard with out-stretched arms. She was dressed in a bat costume. “Excuse me!” Boo called, “do you know were I could get three big pumpkins?” The girl stopped mid-flight and stared at him. Her face became as white Boo’s. “Mommy!” she cried, and ran into the house. “Oh dear,” said Boo. “That didn’t go well at all. Maybe I should try asking someone else.”
He didn’t travel very far before meeting a plump woman raking leaves in her yard. Boo thought she looked very friendly. He glided up behind her and said, “Excuse me, but do you know where I could get three big pumpkins?” “Why yes I do,” She replied as she turned to face Boo. Unfortunately she didn’t say anymore. She took one look at him, and fainted on the spot. “Oh dear,” Boo cried once more. “I guess I’d better try asking someone else; and I’d better leave quickly, before the woman wakes up, I’d hate to make her faint again.”
Boo was beginning to feel very sad. He had no idea know where to get pumpkins, and without them, he couldn’t carve happy faces, and no children would come to his house to play. He flew sadly up the street, wondering what to do. He met a dog, and asked him for advice, but the dog didn’t speak ghost, and Boo didn’t speak dog. He met a black cat and asked her for advice, but she was in too much of a hurry to get home to her witch, it was Halloween after all.
Finally he came upon a run down farm house. He nearly passed by it, but stopped when he heard someone crying. He crept, as well as little ghosts creep, around the house and into the back yard. He saw a skinny old man, sitting in a pumpkin patch, spouting elephant tears. “What’s the matter?” Boo asked. To his surprise the man was not afraid of him. “Oh, it’s Halloween, and I don’t have any treats to hand out to the children this year. I will miss seeing all of there fun costumes!”
Boo looked at the man, he looked at his pumpkin patch, then he got the best idea yet. “Well, you are in luck!” said Boo, “I have treats, but I have been searching all day for pumpkins to carve. What if we spend Halloween together?” The old man smiled as he leapt to his feet. “OK!” he announced. “You may take as many pumpkins as you need!” Boo pick the three largest pumpkins in the patch. Together they put them in a wagon and pulled them all the way back to Boo’s spooky house.
That night in front of the spooky house sat the three big happy pumpkins. They were so bright and happy that every trick-or-treater who passed the spooky house stopped and knocked on Boo’s door. His caramel apples were also a hit. Many children stayed and played with Boo. They played ‘Mummy marbles’ and ‘Pin the Spider on the web’. The children thought Boo was so much fun and promised to come back all the time. The old man also returned very often to Boo’s spooky house, and Boo never had to sit alone in his attic again.
As Halloween approached, Boo came up with a plan to make friends. He decided he would carve three happy faces into three big pumpkins and place them on his porch. When the children walked by his house on Halloween night, they would see them and stop at his house to trick-or-treat. He would give them his delicious home made caramel apples and they would be so impressed, Boo was sure they would want to come inside and play games.
On the morning of Halloween, Boo was busy in his spooky kitchen, finishing his caramel apples. He placed them on the counter to cool down and slipped on his orange jacket. He left his spooky house in search of three big pumpkins. Up the street he flew, humming a happy ghost tune. He was positive his plan would work. In a few hours, he would be playing with his new friends.
Boo did discover one problem with his plan. He wasn’t sure where to look to find pumpkins. As he searched, he came upon a little girl running in her yard with out-stretched arms. She was dressed in a bat costume. “Excuse me!” Boo called, “do you know were I could get three big pumpkins?” The girl stopped mid-flight and stared at him. Her face became as white Boo’s. “Mommy!” she cried, and ran into the house. “Oh dear,” said Boo. “That didn’t go well at all. Maybe I should try asking someone else.”
He didn’t travel very far before meeting a plump woman raking leaves in her yard. Boo thought she looked very friendly. He glided up behind her and said, “Excuse me, but do you know where I could get three big pumpkins?” “Why yes I do,” She replied as she turned to face Boo. Unfortunately she didn’t say anymore. She took one look at him, and fainted on the spot. “Oh dear,” Boo cried once more. “I guess I’d better try asking someone else; and I’d better leave quickly, before the woman wakes up, I’d hate to make her faint again.”
Boo was beginning to feel very sad. He had no idea know where to get pumpkins, and without them, he couldn’t carve happy faces, and no children would come to his house to play. He flew sadly up the street, wondering what to do. He met a dog, and asked him for advice, but the dog didn’t speak ghost, and Boo didn’t speak dog. He met a black cat and asked her for advice, but she was in too much of a hurry to get home to her witch, it was Halloween after all.
Finally he came upon a run down farm house. He nearly passed by it, but stopped when he heard someone crying. He crept, as well as little ghosts creep, around the house and into the back yard. He saw a skinny old man, sitting in a pumpkin patch, spouting elephant tears. “What’s the matter?” Boo asked. To his surprise the man was not afraid of him. “Oh, it’s Halloween, and I don’t have any treats to hand out to the children this year. I will miss seeing all of there fun costumes!”
Boo looked at the man, he looked at his pumpkin patch, then he got the best idea yet. “Well, you are in luck!” said Boo, “I have treats, but I have been searching all day for pumpkins to carve. What if we spend Halloween together?” The old man smiled as he leapt to his feet. “OK!” he announced. “You may take as many pumpkins as you need!” Boo pick the three largest pumpkins in the patch. Together they put them in a wagon and pulled them all the way back to Boo’s spooky house.
That night in front of the spooky house sat the three big happy pumpkins. They were so bright and happy that every trick-or-treater who passed the spooky house stopped and knocked on Boo’s door. His caramel apples were also a hit. Many children stayed and played with Boo. They played ‘Mummy marbles’ and ‘Pin the Spider on the web’. The children thought Boo was so much fun and promised to come back all the time. The old man also returned very often to Boo’s spooky house, and Boo never had to sit alone in his attic again.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
A story for Logan
I was talking on the phone to my friend Dia the other day and she told me the funniest story! She said that the day before she was in one room of her house, while her kids were eating lunch at the kitchen table. All was quiet until one of them began to scream. Within seconds they were both screaming! She ran to them as fast as she could and found them both standing on the kitchen table, looking terrifyed and pointing at a cockroach who was taking a slow pleasant stroll across the floor. I thought was so funny, and my son Logan loved the story, so I wrote this poem in honor of the experience. I changed the cockroach to a spider because, let's be honest, spiders are much cuter! Hope you like it!
There once was a spider named Warner
Who lived in Deb Browns kitchen corner
He’d sit in his web, closely watching young Deb,
always wishing that he could go join her.
He loved all the games Deb would play.
Marbles, hopscotch and croquet.
Though he knew it was strange, he needed a change,
so he said he’d come down the next day.
In the morning Deb sat at the table,
eating Sweet Puffs with her brother Abel.
Warner new this was it; there was no time to sit,
like a restless mule stuck in a stable.
So he shot up a sticky thin rope,
Dropping down on the kitchen sinks soap.
He took a small step, towards his new friends he crept
but he slipped and fell down like a dope.
Embarrassed, but stalwart the same,
he crawled out of the sink with no shame.
he inched toward the two, not quite sure what to do,
so he hollered and shouted his name!
“I am Warner, can I be your friend?
We could play till the day is at end!”
Though he yelled very loud, they did not hear sound,
so he thought he should try once again.
This time he went straight to Deb’s chair.
He stood tall so she’d see him stand there.
With a glance and a yelp, Deb cried,”Momma, please help!”
Then she threw both her feet in the air.
Confused, Warner tried to explain,
but the children were acting insane.
They were up off the floor when mom came through the door
Warner knew he would soon be in pain.
He ran fast, but what can I say?
Poor Warner, this wasn’t his day!
Before he had fled, he was bonked on the head,
then scooped up with an old kitchen tray.
The following hours were blurried,
Warner thought they passed by rather hurried.
He went down with a flush, which he thought was a rush,
But swam out lost, alone and quite worried.
When he finally reached some dry land
Warner crawled out and crashed in the sand.
His spirits were low, he had no where to go,
his day hadn’t at all gone as planned.
It was then that his luck took a turn,
For he met an old spider named Vern.
Vern had seen him wash up and he brought him a cup
filled with bugs and a juicy pink worm.
Warner told Vern of his plight,
who promised he’d make it alright.
“If its friends that you seek, try taking a peek,
in the old Holly bushes tonight.”
So they talked till the bright sun went down.
Warner wondered what friends might found.
When the time had arrived, staying close to Vern’s side,
they circled the Holly around.
Warner was bursting inside!
He saw many young spiders swing by.
They shouted at him, come up and come spin,
We’ll be friends till the day that we die!
A happier spider there never could be
for he had found a new family!
Though he loved his old corner, this spider named Warner,
knew that some things just weren’t meant to be.
There once was a spider named Warner
Who lived in Deb Browns kitchen corner
He’d sit in his web, closely watching young Deb,
always wishing that he could go join her.
He loved all the games Deb would play.
Marbles, hopscotch and croquet.
Though he knew it was strange, he needed a change,
so he said he’d come down the next day.
In the morning Deb sat at the table,
eating Sweet Puffs with her brother Abel.
Warner new this was it; there was no time to sit,
like a restless mule stuck in a stable.
So he shot up a sticky thin rope,
Dropping down on the kitchen sinks soap.
He took a small step, towards his new friends he crept
but he slipped and fell down like a dope.
Embarrassed, but stalwart the same,
he crawled out of the sink with no shame.
he inched toward the two, not quite sure what to do,
so he hollered and shouted his name!
“I am Warner, can I be your friend?
We could play till the day is at end!”
Though he yelled very loud, they did not hear sound,
so he thought he should try once again.
This time he went straight to Deb’s chair.
He stood tall so she’d see him stand there.
With a glance and a yelp, Deb cried,”Momma, please help!”
Then she threw both her feet in the air.
Confused, Warner tried to explain,
but the children were acting insane.
They were up off the floor when mom came through the door
Warner knew he would soon be in pain.
He ran fast, but what can I say?
Poor Warner, this wasn’t his day!
Before he had fled, he was bonked on the head,
then scooped up with an old kitchen tray.
The following hours were blurried,
Warner thought they passed by rather hurried.
He went down with a flush, which he thought was a rush,
But swam out lost, alone and quite worried.
When he finally reached some dry land
Warner crawled out and crashed in the sand.
His spirits were low, he had no where to go,
his day hadn’t at all gone as planned.
It was then that his luck took a turn,
For he met an old spider named Vern.
Vern had seen him wash up and he brought him a cup
filled with bugs and a juicy pink worm.
Warner told Vern of his plight,
who promised he’d make it alright.
“If its friends that you seek, try taking a peek,
in the old Holly bushes tonight.”
So they talked till the bright sun went down.
Warner wondered what friends might found.
When the time had arrived, staying close to Vern’s side,
they circled the Holly around.
Warner was bursting inside!
He saw many young spiders swing by.
They shouted at him, come up and come spin,
We’ll be friends till the day that we die!
A happier spider there never could be
for he had found a new family!
Though he loved his old corner, this spider named Warner,
knew that some things just weren’t meant to be.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
purely honest
I have been working, as of late, on repainting the master bathroom in my house. It has been a bigger project than I had originally anticipated due to the previous owners’ use of some insane form of super glue to hang a very dated border. (Think bells, angels and ribbons.) The border had to come down, but the glue was using its super strength and refused to budge. By the time I had finally sanded, scraped, sprayed, peeled and cursed the border off the wall, a week had passed and the entire bathroom was a mess. Our counter was covered in tools and sheets to protect them from the baby blue paint I had applied. One of my two sinks was acting as a paint supply holder, while the other remained somewhat free of clutter, enough at least to brush our teeth in. (now if only I could locate the toothpaste!) Anyway, I labeled this post "purely honest" because as I was finally cleaning up the disaster this afternoon I found three or four of my oldest son's toy construction diggers amid the chaos. They were filled with the various scraps that cluttered the floor, one was even in the tub, carrying a can of paint. How sweet, I thought, that my little one could come into the mess, look around, and think, "Hey, I know just what to do with this messy room.....diggers!"
I wonder how it would go over with my neighbor if I took my boys' toy swords outside with me and played an adventure-filled game of jungle safari in his lengthy lawn. Well, who am I kidding, the lengthy lawn would be mine too. It would have been easier to keep up on if the before mentioned border hadn't been clinging to the wall for dear life.
Hmmm.....superglue.........razafrazza.
I wonder how it would go over with my neighbor if I took my boys' toy swords outside with me and played an adventure-filled game of jungle safari in his lengthy lawn. Well, who am I kidding, the lengthy lawn would be mine too. It would have been easier to keep up on if the before mentioned border hadn't been clinging to the wall for dear life.
Hmmm.....superglue.........razafrazza.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Three little brothers sitting on the couch, one fell off and he screamed, "Ouch!" Brother called for Mama, "waaa waa wee!" Mama made it better with kiss on his knee.
Every day my son Lincoln bumps into something. He's in that stage I guess and his balance is not very, well....... balanced! :) My favorite thing about him is that whenever he gets hurt, whether it be a tiny bump, or a more impressive crash, one magic little kiss from me makes it better every time! For some reason these accidents tend to occur at moments when I feel fed up with cleaning and managing my household. What a sweet little reminder that I make a difference! Many people may not feel that being a mother is a rewarding venture, but I would have to disagree. Though they may be demanding children today, they will grow to be adults some day. They will not be little forever. Some of them will likely become leaders in their different destinations, and for some reason God believes I am worthy and capable enough to teach them. I look at my sons and feel real joy, because I know that when they look at me, they feel safe, and eager to learn and grow in this ever changing, and often frightening world. I know I will not always be able to kiss away their fears, but for now, I am here.
Every day my son Lincoln bumps into something. He's in that stage I guess and his balance is not very, well....... balanced! :) My favorite thing about him is that whenever he gets hurt, whether it be a tiny bump, or a more impressive crash, one magic little kiss from me makes it better every time! For some reason these accidents tend to occur at moments when I feel fed up with cleaning and managing my household. What a sweet little reminder that I make a difference! Many people may not feel that being a mother is a rewarding venture, but I would have to disagree. Though they may be demanding children today, they will grow to be adults some day. They will not be little forever. Some of them will likely become leaders in their different destinations, and for some reason God believes I am worthy and capable enough to teach them. I look at my sons and feel real joy, because I know that when they look at me, they feel safe, and eager to learn and grow in this ever changing, and often frightening world. I know I will not always be able to kiss away their fears, but for now, I am here.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Why I'm starting this blog
I have a family blog that up until rececntly I haven't done much with. I am now catching up with the times and have been coaxed by a few good people in my life to start a blog where I can post my writing. I have always enjoyed writing, and am currently working on a number of different things. I think I'll use this blog to share some of them with any of you who might be interested. If you enjoy what you read here, please share this sight with others. That being said, don't steal my stuff! :) I have had a trying week for no real particular reason. Last night I wrote about it just to get some thoughts out of my head. I'm also posting a little "story" I wrote about my baby Owen. Everyday day or so I plan on adding new things. Enjoy!
Today I’ve learned that it is possible to pretend you are happy when you feel much less than. Why would I do something like that? For my kids, my husband, and for my sanity. I’m generally a pretty upbeat person, but life with three young kids, a house, a tight budget, and no chocolate can weigh down on a girl pretty fast. It’s hard to see the positive when the negative seems to be yelling in your face. What makes it so easy to see the bad, and not the good? It’s almost like an addiction in some ways because once you start to think negatively, it’s hard to stop. This morning I started my day with a two year old screaming in the corner for half an hour. Why was he in the corner? A battle of wills I suppose. Here’s how the episode happened. Me: “Lincoln, say sorry to mom for coloring on the carpet.” Him: “No!” Me: “ok Linc, into the corner until you’re ready to say sorry.” Him: “No! No! No! No! Me: “grrrrrrrrr” as I place his screaming self in the corner.
I suppose it’s possible to have a screaming toddler and remain positive at the same time, but it’s a lot easier to be negative. Add a hungry baby, and an independent four year old into the mix, and those negative thoughts start popping out without much effort, irritating the situation even further. And so I was faced with the decision. Do I give in to those feelings, or do I fight them? Give in……..fight? Give in…….fight? Giving in felt like a fair decision because it really wasn’t fair that I was bombarded with a million tasks and problems before I’d even eaten breakfast and yet, I suppose if there was any chance the day would get better, fighting was the only way to go. What did ‘fair’ really mean anyway? And so I fought. Some of the time I felt like I was fighting all of my kids at once, but by golly I tried hard. The day really didn’t get much better than it started. For lunch the Mac and Cheese boiled over. After lunch Lincoln almost made it to the potty. (key word, almost), and during quiet time, Logan made a lovely bubble soup in the bathroom sink with an entire bottle of bubble bath. We did have a few fun moments where I forced myself to do things I really didn’t want to do. I had a pretend food party with Logan (I had to test the soup, right?), and I raced the older two to the white fence in the back yard while towing the wee one on my hip. I discovered it was those small things that made the difference. They made my kids happy, and made me feel just a little less grouchy, if only for a minute. Tomorrow should be better, everyone has bad days. My goal now is to focus on the fun stuff! Wish me luck!
Today I woke up grumpy. My eyes ached to stay closed, and I stumbled out of bed and down the hall to the little room you sleep in. I was in no mood to be cheerful, but you didn’t mind. Like an angel you looked up at me through your crib bars, and you smiled.
The mail came this morning. More bills to pay. I was grumbling in an attempt to balance the check book, sitting at the kitchen table still wearing my pajama’s, and consciously drowning out an argument your brothers were having over a green crayon, when you crawled into the kitchen, plunked your little bum down where it chose to plunk and looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and then you smiled.
The house is a mess. The laundry is challenging the dishes in a contest of “who can pile the highest.” The floor, though already swept last night, is covered in cheerio’s and cookie crumbs, and I believe my vacuum is still in the hall closet where I placed it over a month ago. I look around the house and feel over whelmed by where to start. You are sitting on a clean pile of laundry, playing with one of daddy’s socks. You wave it around and laugh out loud, then look up to make sure I see that you are smiling.
Eventually, things clean up a bit. The house isn’t perfect, but it will do. You’ve been playing along side me, but you’ve reached your limit of play time and begin to whine. I hurry to put the last few dishes in the dishwasher, but it proves to be too much for you because when I pick you up you are wailing. Being held calms you down a bit, and we walk up to your room. I give you your binki and gorilla and lay you in your bed. You smile as happily as you can. You feel safe and content in your little crib, and you are asleep before I leave the room.
For your two big brothers, this is play time. We read stories, play games on the computer, and they watch movies while I finally take a shower. The morning is filled with activities, but you miss them all in your cozy crib. Finally, when your nap is through, I hear you cry again. You do not like to be alone. You watch the door impatiently for signs of movement. Your brothers hear you cry and beg to go to you. You must hear their steps and voices approach the door, because just before it opens, your crying stops. They push it open and there you are, standing in you crib, with an open mouthed grin behind your binki.
The afternoon passes. You smile as you eat, you smile as you nurse. You smile at your toys, and your books, and your toes. You smile playing patty-cake, and laugh when you’re tickled. You smile when you stand, and even when you fall. Your smile seems to tell us how you feel about everything you discover in your new little world.
At times your smiles stop. You search everywhere for me. You start to look panicked until your eyes find mine, and your smile reappears. It fades when I look away, but I can feel your gaze unbroken, and when I glance back at you, your face lights up instantly. Back and forth, I turn my head to watch your grin appear and disappear. I think I would rather watch your face right now more than anything else in the world.
It’s time to eat dinner. You are sitting in your highchair with a pile of cheerios, succeeding to get half of them in your mouth. Daddy walk’s through the door. He is tired from his long day, but your bright welcome lifts his spirits immediately. After a kiss from me, he turns to tickle you under your chin. For daddy you smile the biggest of all. You grab his face while spouting a primitive, “Da Da Da Dah!” Your brothers mimic you and you watch them with pleasure. Together we eat our meal, while you glance around at everyone, smiling your heart out.
Finally, it is time to go to bed. You smile as I change your diaper. You smile and splash in the tub. You laugh while I brush brothers’ teeth. After prayer, books, hugs, and an extra tickle from daddy, you are ready to go to sleep. The day may have been long for mommy and daddy, but as I watch you fall asleep, I realize that everything we do is worth it, because you smile.
Today I’ve learned that it is possible to pretend you are happy when you feel much less than. Why would I do something like that? For my kids, my husband, and for my sanity. I’m generally a pretty upbeat person, but life with three young kids, a house, a tight budget, and no chocolate can weigh down on a girl pretty fast. It’s hard to see the positive when the negative seems to be yelling in your face. What makes it so easy to see the bad, and not the good? It’s almost like an addiction in some ways because once you start to think negatively, it’s hard to stop. This morning I started my day with a two year old screaming in the corner for half an hour. Why was he in the corner? A battle of wills I suppose. Here’s how the episode happened. Me: “Lincoln, say sorry to mom for coloring on the carpet.” Him: “No!” Me: “ok Linc, into the corner until you’re ready to say sorry.” Him: “No! No! No! No! Me: “grrrrrrrrr” as I place his screaming self in the corner.
I suppose it’s possible to have a screaming toddler and remain positive at the same time, but it’s a lot easier to be negative. Add a hungry baby, and an independent four year old into the mix, and those negative thoughts start popping out without much effort, irritating the situation even further. And so I was faced with the decision. Do I give in to those feelings, or do I fight them? Give in……..fight? Give in…….fight? Giving in felt like a fair decision because it really wasn’t fair that I was bombarded with a million tasks and problems before I’d even eaten breakfast and yet, I suppose if there was any chance the day would get better, fighting was the only way to go. What did ‘fair’ really mean anyway? And so I fought. Some of the time I felt like I was fighting all of my kids at once, but by golly I tried hard. The day really didn’t get much better than it started. For lunch the Mac and Cheese boiled over. After lunch Lincoln almost made it to the potty. (key word, almost), and during quiet time, Logan made a lovely bubble soup in the bathroom sink with an entire bottle of bubble bath. We did have a few fun moments where I forced myself to do things I really didn’t want to do. I had a pretend food party with Logan (I had to test the soup, right?), and I raced the older two to the white fence in the back yard while towing the wee one on my hip. I discovered it was those small things that made the difference. They made my kids happy, and made me feel just a little less grouchy, if only for a minute. Tomorrow should be better, everyone has bad days. My goal now is to focus on the fun stuff! Wish me luck!
Today I woke up grumpy. My eyes ached to stay closed, and I stumbled out of bed and down the hall to the little room you sleep in. I was in no mood to be cheerful, but you didn’t mind. Like an angel you looked up at me through your crib bars, and you smiled.
The mail came this morning. More bills to pay. I was grumbling in an attempt to balance the check book, sitting at the kitchen table still wearing my pajama’s, and consciously drowning out an argument your brothers were having over a green crayon, when you crawled into the kitchen, plunked your little bum down where it chose to plunk and looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and then you smiled.
The house is a mess. The laundry is challenging the dishes in a contest of “who can pile the highest.” The floor, though already swept last night, is covered in cheerio’s and cookie crumbs, and I believe my vacuum is still in the hall closet where I placed it over a month ago. I look around the house and feel over whelmed by where to start. You are sitting on a clean pile of laundry, playing with one of daddy’s socks. You wave it around and laugh out loud, then look up to make sure I see that you are smiling.
Eventually, things clean up a bit. The house isn’t perfect, but it will do. You’ve been playing along side me, but you’ve reached your limit of play time and begin to whine. I hurry to put the last few dishes in the dishwasher, but it proves to be too much for you because when I pick you up you are wailing. Being held calms you down a bit, and we walk up to your room. I give you your binki and gorilla and lay you in your bed. You smile as happily as you can. You feel safe and content in your little crib, and you are asleep before I leave the room.
For your two big brothers, this is play time. We read stories, play games on the computer, and they watch movies while I finally take a shower. The morning is filled with activities, but you miss them all in your cozy crib. Finally, when your nap is through, I hear you cry again. You do not like to be alone. You watch the door impatiently for signs of movement. Your brothers hear you cry and beg to go to you. You must hear their steps and voices approach the door, because just before it opens, your crying stops. They push it open and there you are, standing in you crib, with an open mouthed grin behind your binki.
The afternoon passes. You smile as you eat, you smile as you nurse. You smile at your toys, and your books, and your toes. You smile playing patty-cake, and laugh when you’re tickled. You smile when you stand, and even when you fall. Your smile seems to tell us how you feel about everything you discover in your new little world.
At times your smiles stop. You search everywhere for me. You start to look panicked until your eyes find mine, and your smile reappears. It fades when I look away, but I can feel your gaze unbroken, and when I glance back at you, your face lights up instantly. Back and forth, I turn my head to watch your grin appear and disappear. I think I would rather watch your face right now more than anything else in the world.
It’s time to eat dinner. You are sitting in your highchair with a pile of cheerios, succeeding to get half of them in your mouth. Daddy walk’s through the door. He is tired from his long day, but your bright welcome lifts his spirits immediately. After a kiss from me, he turns to tickle you under your chin. For daddy you smile the biggest of all. You grab his face while spouting a primitive, “Da Da Da Dah!” Your brothers mimic you and you watch them with pleasure. Together we eat our meal, while you glance around at everyone, smiling your heart out.
Finally, it is time to go to bed. You smile as I change your diaper. You smile and splash in the tub. You laugh while I brush brothers’ teeth. After prayer, books, hugs, and an extra tickle from daddy, you are ready to go to sleep. The day may have been long for mommy and daddy, but as I watch you fall asleep, I realize that everything we do is worth it, because you smile.
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