Redeeming the Time

It's been all of 3 weeks since I decided on My One Word for 2013. Just a few short weeks since I've begun this process of trimming certain areas of my life and growing others. Isn't it interesting how a subtle shift in perspective can alter your view entirely? Like I'm standing in the same place, looking towards the same thing, but the picture looks suddenly different.

The things I'm looking towards- those that are of the utmost importance to me- my faith, my marriage, my children, my health- what am I doing to build them up? I mean daily? What portion of my time spent is a reflection of where my heart lies? When I look at my life through this lens, it suddenly snaps everything into focus.

 If what they say is true, that the grass is only greener where you water it, then why waste a single precious drop?

The truth is, I have been wasting a lot of time. Drops of time, they seem to slip through my fingers and disappear.   It's easy to SAY I'm going to grab hold of the time and make the most of each moment- you know, seize the day and all that.
  But the truth of the matter is that it's just like every other thing in life. It boils down to one fact.
 YOU'VE GOT TO DO THE WORK!
 Whether it be physically, spiritually, or relationally, you can't neglect to put in the effort and then be surprised to find it's not thriving.  If you're building a wall, you've got to lay the bricks. One by one.

What is your wall?
What has God called you to?

I have been asking myself- asking God- this question a lot lately. And while there are a few different things I feel led to pursue at the moment, investing in my husband and my children will always be towards the top of that list.
 When raising small kids it's very easy to be swallowed up in the minutiae of the day. There are hundreds of little tasks that must be done. But all the little things, they add up to something very big. Life happens in the home. Values and relationships and attitudes and habits are all formed in the home. The lessons learned in the home, last the longest.

While every household has it's own rhythm, I long for ours to slow down. I want to redeem the time. My kids are only this age once. They are young for such a brief period of time. All I have is now. I don't get a do-over. Those tiny, tender hearts are only mine for the blink of an eye.

Ephesians 5:15-16
"See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil."

I have been praying for opportunities to maximize the time. For chances to peel back the layers and dig deeper into our children's hearts. For enough wisdom to stop hurrying and to create a rhythm in our home that makes time for such things.

The thing about opportunity is that it often comes masked as inopportunity. What feels like a nuisance or an interruption might just be the exact moment I've been searching for and asking for.
Communication comes at a cost. Bricklaying takes work.

In the middle of a recent (and somewhat routine) display of dramatic emotion from our 6 year old, something in my gut told me not to rush through this one. Some undefinable check in my heart that kept me from indulging the temptation to speed through the steps of discipline and correction and teaching so I could move on with my day. Had I rushed, I would have missed an opportunity to communicate on a deeper, vitally important level. Her little eyes brimmed with tears in such a way that I knew it wasn't just drama unfolding, but a hurting heart. So I sat on the edge of her bed and scooped her onto my lap and started asking questions as she sobbed into my shirt. After weeks of feeling heavy hearted and somewhat disconnected from my daughter, here was a precious opportunity to discover what was at the real root of the problem. After all, the heart of the matter is almost always a matter of the heart, yes? What ended up being a wonderful, productive conversation almost didn't happen, because I almost didn't do the work by drawing it out of her.  Opportunity can be very easy to miss. I know, because I do it all the time.

So here I am, 3 weeks later, just barely getting my sleeves rolled up. There are a hundred other ways I want to redeem the time. There are books I am reading, friendships I am growing, weight I am losing,  recipes I want to try, new ways to discover of building up my marriage, and time of solitude to take- to just steal away with my coffee and my bible and my God.
 And while it can all start to feel like It's just too much to fit into 24 short hours, I think it's really... not.
It's more a matter of first things first. It's choosing to redeem the time and not just to spend it.
You've got to seize the moment before you can seize the day.

Tales From the Trenches: On Staying Home and Staying Positive

Im not going to lie. Im going a little bit crazy. Not to mention stir crazy. Winter has set in, the days are shorter and darker, and Husband has recently been otherwise occupied by the teeny tiny project of a new home, which has often left the kids and I filling our time at home. The weather has turned cold and wet which rules out most outside play. Park days have dwindled, and confession: so have playing-in-the-backyard-days because of Buster's land mines that Husband normally picks up, but now have become my area of responsibility. Along with taking out the trash and raking leaves and other silently agreed upon "man jobs" in our house. And while I officially can (and do!- points there) get these tasks done, lets all be real here. Where Husband would do them bi-weekly, I've done them bi-monthly. Atrocious, I know.

So we've spent many a day indoors. Trying to keep two kids busy and happy and out of trouble. This takes an exorbitant amount of effort some days! Puzzles are ruined by little brother. So are all endeavors to draw, paint, color, or cut/glue. And since Im making a genuine effort to minimize screen time (sidenote: this is a real effort at improvement on my part, because both my kids will happily sit in front of the tv and watch movies together in blissful quiet harmony. While there is nothing wrong with this, and we do it often, I am trying to engage them more.) Be present, right?! Do the work! Make deposits in their little hearts! All the stuff that they dont tell you is the actual hard part of parenting.

SO. Its been interesting. In fact, this very minute, my two pajama clad tinies have gotten into the art cupboard and there are markers, paint brushes, color books, and the like all over my kitchen counter. There have been no altercations, no tears, and no damage to clothing, person, or surface, so Im allowing it to go on unsupervised. For now. I think this has actually been good for me in terms of loosening up. As a person who is perpetually tidying and cleaning I have gotten better at living life and allowing messes. (Kids will do that to you.) Sure! Get out the playhouse! And the barbies and the play food, and the hot wheels, and the baby dolls, and the airplanes, and the books. And ok fine, the toy microphone. And sure! We can play with it all at once! Mix it all up together! Go for it.

 Its good for me and its good for them. The 2 year old is learning to play and use his imagination and share and get along. The 4 year old is learning that if you're big enough to get it out, you're big enough to clean it all up. She's also learning patience with the 2 year old because he reeks havoc on all of her best laid plans. She's learning to lead by example and do the right thing even when its not always "fair". 

 I'M learning that I have a lot to learn. Some days I finish with a sense of pride and joy and fullness.  For the quality time spent reading books and snuggling. For getting down on the floor with them and pretending. For diffusing arguments and drawing the right responses out of them.  For being Fun Mommy! Which, if Im being totally honest, is usually Daddy's area of expertise. (I say this fondly and begrudgingly at the same time.) I love that Husband comes home, changes out of his work clothes and then wrestles on the floor with the kids while I cook dinner. I love that they squeal with delight when they hear the garage door open. It only makes me a little bit sad that Im not the first one they run to, to be silly with. But really, that's my own doing. Some days Im pleased with myself for turning off the tv, and turning on the music and dancing around the living room with the kids- AND managing to be productive at the same time. In the way that it really counts, and in the practical, getting-the-floors-mopped kind of way.

 And then some days I feel utterly defeated. Some days I forget to play and have fun because Im too busy taking care of life. Some days the kids have fought, the house is a mess, and I have lost my patience (after the 17th time little brother has climbed on the counter and emptied the entire contents of my purse, then ruined his sister's art project and thrown every single crayon in every single direction.) Some days big sister has been excessively whiny and contrary. Some days I have a hard time controlling THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE! Its true. Go ahead and judge. Some days I let them watch too much tv. (Cringe) Eeek. I know.

But we are living life. Life is messy and complicated and full of mistakes. But God is faithful. Lessons have been learned. Important lessons. Like, positive reinforcement and encouragement and praise are every bit as important as discipline. Like, if I want my kids to practice  kindness, gentleness, patience, self control, etc.- then I ought to be practicing them myself. Like, thankfulness for simplicity. Sometimes when raising small children, its easy to get swallowed up in the minutiae of the day. But the day is made up of hundreds of moments. Busy, loud, hectic,  moments of rushing our the door or getting dinner on the table. Quiet, still, midnight moments spent rocking, feeding, and comforting. Precious bedtime prayer moments where you are touched and surprised by the peek into your 4 year old's heart and concerns. Moments of mundane, vitally important opportunities to teach and mold and love and grow. And those moments are SIMPLE. They are easy to miss.  It's taken me two babies to learn to appreciate THOSE moments. They're what I end up remembering. They're what I end up cherishing. A tiny sweaty head with cherub cheeks and curly lashes, nestled on my chest in the rocking chair when I can hardly keep my eyes open and I feel like the only person in the dark universe who is awake. Giggles and squeals in the bathtub. Hurdles of pride and tears followed by hugs and forgiviness. It can be a lot of work but it's still SIMPLE. And it fills my heart with a simple kind of joy. Kids are funny like that. Like I always say, they completely fill you up and completely empty you at the same time.

So, I am putting this on an index card -

 Galations 5:22-23 "But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control; against such things, there is no law."

Then Im going to put it on the fridge as a reminder to my tiny tenders... And I'll put it on my bathroom mirror as a reminder to myself.  And then Im going to pray a lot. :)

Did I shave my legs for this? Well I did try. I certainly did try.

In my recent post, The Thing With Dinner..., we discussed the mayhem that generally (okay nightly) ensues upon my announcing that dinner is ready.  Maybe this is normal, maybe its not, but its certainly a real thing that happens in our house. Except now Im thinking that there very well may be a THING with the shower too. And phonecalls. Any phonecall. My home could be a perfectly harmonious scene of domestic bliss, but the minute I turn on the shower it flips some imaginary switch in my children's heads. The switch that turns them from Happy to Beastly.

 Its as if kids have a radar for these sort of things, yes? They could be playing/ coloring/ watching a cartoon without a care in the world for where I am or what Im doing, but the second I step into the shower there is, naturally, some kind of dire, desperate "emergency" (as my four year old assures me) that needs my immediate attention. I'll hear a pitter patter of feet and definitive shrieks as they both bolt into the bathroom with some kind of story to tell. "Mommy! Jaxon got pee water out of the toilet and he's putting it in the dog dish!" (Oh yes. You know its true). Or,  "You better hurry- he's coloring on the counter again!" or any number of other ridiculous personal offenses- you know the type- "he's staring at me", "He keeps touching me!", etc etc.  And poor Jax, bless his heart, cant ever seem to get out more than a frustrated "Mommy! No! Bella!" followed by accusatory pointing and  helpless shoulder slumping.

 And its never when Im almost done showering. Its always right as Im soaping up my face and cant see, or right as Im attempting to shave my legs. These same shenanigans seem to apply to whenever my phone rings with an important phonecall. A perfectly quiet room can get turned upside down in ten seconds flat.  I've made peace with the fact that until the kids are a tiny bit older, there really is no sacred place left in the house for a mother. Not even the bathroom. Especially not the bathroom.
This morning Bigger One was off to preschool so I let Littler One play around in my bathroom while I showered. One by one, random objects started to appear at my feet. A rubber band. A bracelet. An earring. He'd found a tiny crack at the bottom of the glass door and was quite please with himself for finding things that would fit through that very spot. Clever boy. I had to chuckle.  So what if I consider it a small personal victory to have shaved the front AND backs of my legs before date night. A victory's a victory. And hey, we can't have it ALL together ALL the time, right?...Right?

The Thing About Gumption

     The thing about gumption... is that its best to have it in direct proportion to graciousness. I think. Dont you think?

I mean, people can be so different! The world takes all kinds, yes? Different ideas, different ways of communicating, different ways of reacting, different levels of being opinionated. I think Im a pretty average person. Usually somewhere in the middle of the pack. Fairly level-headed, fairly reasonable, usually polite- you know, normal. Haha! As if anyone has the exact same impression of what's "normal". What may seem outlandish to me, might be perfectly alright to the next guy, or vice versa. Which can make daily social life a little tricky to navigate at times.

 But shouldnt there be an underlying theme? An unspoken agreement or sorts? A little of what Aretha might call R-E-S-P-E-C-T? (chuckling) Ok, dont worry, Im not gonna bust out a gospel choir to "mm hmm" and "amen" all my bullet points on decency. Although that does sound like a wildly good idea. (Moms: wouldnt it be awesome if every time we corrected our kids we had a backup choir to really drive home our point? You know, just for emphasis? LOL "Share with your brother" (insert music notes) "Because its the right thing to do"- it'd all just sound so much more fun if a gospel choir sang it)

 Appearantly, even the playground is not much of a safe zone, as I discovered today when some lady got all huffy and rude with me out of nowhere. I literally didnt even see her coming. But all of a sudden, there she was  in my peripheral vision, swooping in and taking a big dump on my nice day.

 I took Bigger One to meet a little freind for a playdate and did the whole bit where you try to carry on a coversation with the other parent, while keeping a hawkeye on Big One and Little One at the same time. Especially Little One, who is a daredevil toddler and likes to give me little mini heart attacks by jumping off of things all the time. This involves lots of unfinished sentences, darting back and forth, and apologizing for always looking over the other parent's shoulder while you talk to them, but its what ya gotta do. Its understood. Its better than him falling to a terrible death from the jungle gym because I wasnt watching. (Confession: I live in fear of this. Im literally waiting for the first broken bone, or trip to the ER because he has jumped off something he should have never been on in the first place. He likes to test this out. His noggin is surprisingly risilient though. Its already been through a lot in his short life.)

I stood about 5 feet from Little One and had my eye trained on him the whole time he played, and he was having the time of his life. Great. Wonderful. Another sunny day at the park. Then he started to cry and call for me, so naturally I ran to him. (Incidentally, he was fine. Just hot and sweaty and thirsty) But appearantly the ten seconds it took for me to get to him was enough time to make him look like some poor rosy cheeked abandoned child who's mother doesnt take care of him. Because that's all it took for some lady to swoop in with her eagle talons and verbally claw my face off. Okay, not really. Im not even sure that translates. But I did get the unsettling feeling that she wasnt above a good clawing.

This total stranger, this person I dont even know, was all judgements and disapproving looks, hissing and shouting to me across the playground to me that he's crying, when Im visibly on my way to him already. Shaking her head and loudly lamenting for all to hear that the poor boy just needs his mother. The poor boy was having a grand time. And being well behaved. And the poor boy's mother was watching him the entire time.Then she was right there next to me, still carrying on. Im not even sure I heard all of her words. They were ugly words anyway.  In the moment, I scooped up my son, gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgement to Eagle Talons and walked away. Its my usual MO. Be nice and get the heck outta there. I hate confrontation. No part of me enjoys it. Im a peacekeeper of sorts. But then as I stood there, feeling her eyes burn into me, it sort of made me... angry. Then it made my blood boil. Where do people get off?! I mean, really?

Maybe Im too far across the other side of the line. Maybe I avoid confrontation to a fault. This is something to consider. (Later, when I have time) I've mentioned before the goal I set-  That if I must err, to err on the side of graciousness. But I have to say, in the last ten years as my 20's slowly slip into my 30's, I've learned a lot about who I actually am.  Being gracious will always be a goal, but I've realized that there is something to be said for some good old fashioned gumption as well. Its a fantastic quality to have. In fact, I'd like more of it.

Oh to be a person who shoots straight! Who says what they mean and means what they say. Who is sure of their convictions. Who is gutsy. Who is honest. Who never sinks to being passive aggressive. I think you can still be all of those things and still be kind and humble?  Its all in the delivery. When there is  a problem with someone, speak the truth to them in love. It works wonders! 1 Corinthians 16:14 "Do everything in love." To the point. I like it.

Conflict doesnt ever go away. It starts on the playground and it finds its way into most places Im afraid. But Id gamble to say that a little bit of grace and a little bit of gumption can go a long way in life.

It's Confirmed

Well, it's confirmed!
I cannot watch any photo montage set to music without crying. It doesnt matter what the pictures are of. I will cry. I am literally sitting in my chair chuckling (okay fine, cackling) out loud at myself right now. I think I always suspected this truth about myself, but today it was confirmed. I went to my niece's 8th grade graduation feeling 100% non-emotional about it. Just a happy day.  I sat down, looked at all the parents, was reminded that my own daughter will someday be graduating the 8th grade and had to bite my lip because I felt it coming. "Be cool Salhus" Im thinking..."It's akward if you cry. It's not even your daughter..."

Then the photo montage started. Set to music (which is the real emotional-clencher for me). I could'nt help it! I cried. I literally felt embarrassed, which made me laugh (I always default to laughing when I dont know what to do). So, I was probably a very unsettling bench-mate to the kindly, old man sitting next to me...with my half crying, half laughing, entirely strange display. Ah, who cares. Like I said, he was kindly. And my sister was there to laugh with me. She gets me. And that helps in any situation.

Sitting there in the auditorium, smelling that lingering funk specific to all school gymnasiums, looking at the pictures, looking at my niece- it all took me back to my own high school and even college days.  Any of you readers who know me well at all, know that I am a VERY nostalgiac person. "Remember When" is my second all time favorite game. (My first is "Name That Movie". Because I rule at it)

 "Remember when junior prom was ruined by my akward date?", "Rememeber when Norby and I fell in the middle of that pep rally and my cheer uniform went over my head, going from barely existent to nonexistent?", "Remember when we pulled that all nighter at Denny's?" , "Remember when we'd all sit outside in the commons talking and laughing til midnight every night?" "Remember that road trip to HB?" "Remember Amber's "Jungle Fever" dance?"(the other Amber), "Remember Little Blue? (my first car) And late night trips to Taco Bell while we listened to Aretha Franklin?" "Member that?"

I don't know why I love memory lane so much! Well, yes I do. Because we had a lot of good times! Those years for me were filled with laughter and excitement and new chapters and, of course, romances. But I don't look back on those times with anything other than fondness. I have no desire to go back to that time of life. While it was all invigorating and new and delightfully free of responsibility- it was also not "as good as it gets", as they say. Ya know what I mean? It bothers me when peers freak out and essentially turn their lives upside down, based on the desire to regain freedom or youth or whatever it is they think they want to go back to and get more of.  Yuck, that sounds judgemental. Let me rephrase. People might turn their lives upside down for any number of good and real reasons and that is, of course, no business of mine. I guess I just mean, for me personally, I hope to grab on to each day and get the most out of it, regardless of what lies within those 24 hrs. And then to move on to the next with a sense of contentment. Take it for what it is.  I hope to, and I want to, but I need to do it more.

I'm past the high school, the college, and even the newlywed days. They each had their peaks and their valleys. Now I'm in that phase where we have small children and on some days it feels like that alone is an engulfing experience. We're riding that rollercoaster of joy and triumph, heartache and fear, bafflement and wonder. Kids can take you from pride to dismay and back again multiple times in a day, yes?! And while I will admit, I have had moments (only moments!) of feeling like motherhood might swallow me whole- it's also not the only thing about me. I am a wife. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am a daughter. I am a mother. I am good at certain things and I'm hopeless at others.

I've written before about my desire and goal to be more PRESENT in each day, in each moment. It's so easy Not to do. I can so quickly fill up my time with cleaning, cooking, dressing, bathing, changing diapers, running errands. All good things. All things that need doing. But I want to take more time to appreciate. To soak it up. To play more barbies with my daughter, to make more mudpies with my son, and to remember to give my husband that look that he knows means "I love you" in the middle of the evening, bathtime chaos. To laugh more with my freinds.

But ya know what? It struck me as I was sitting there in that stinky gymnasium tearing up over pictures of kids that I dont even know- I'm happy with the way life is turning out. Not all days feel "happy", not all relationships are free of drama, I don't always know what to do as a parent, it doesnt always feel easy. Okay it rarely feels easy! But I am at a point in my life where I can look backwards with fondness and I can look forward with hope- and I can thank my God for where He's planted my feet right now, today. Wasn't it Paul who said, "I've learned how to abase and how to abound."? So whether today is a 'peak' kind of a day or a 'pit' kind of a day, it's still a day I've been given. What will I do with it?

"We've Got a Bleeder!"

Its my ears. Are they bleeding? Is there actual blood dripping out of them yet? The problem is that Husband has been gone for three days and so I've suffered the brunt of it alone. All alone. The mind-numbing barrage of words. The sheer relentlessnes of the rapid-fire questions, one after another after another with hardly a pause for breath, seering into my brain like intruding bullets.

The car is the hardest. Its like you're trapped. Yesterday I was in the car with the kids for about 2 hours altogether. 7 minutes of that time was quiet. I am not exaggerating. I've tried turning on music but that doesnt work. My ipod is no match for her. She just talks over it.

"Do I have to take a nap when I get home?" "If I do have to take a nap, can I watch a half of a cartoon first?" "Can you put Jaxon asleep before me?" "Why do I have to take a nap?" "Can I sleep on my princess couch instead of my bed?" "Why not?" "Im hungry, I think I need a snack first" "Can I have a chococlate granola bar?" "Why not?!" "Is it healthy?" "If I dont have a granola bar, what can I have?" "Can I have gum?" "Are coyotes mean?" "Do they bite?" "I think bears and coyotes and lions and sharks and turkeys are all mean and they bite but dogs and cats are nice." (2 seconds to catch breath) "Actually some dogs and cats are not nice?" "We always be careful about dogs and cats that we dont know because they might be mean." "How do you know if they're mean?" "Remember Grannie Annie's cat?" "What was his name?" "I fed him a treat and he was nice." "But Aunt Cyndee's cat was not nice. Rango. No, wait, Ringo."(Incidentally Aunt Cyndee does not have a cat named Ringo or Rango. Im sure someone we know does. Aunt Cyndee has a dog. Named Blue. But that's all besides the point- much like her whole train of thought) "So mommy, how is your day?" "Where are we going?" "I dont think you're going the right way." "Do we need gas?" "Can a car pop if you put too much gas in it?" "What if the guy just kept putting more and more and more gas in and the whole car literry (literally) just popped?" "Has that ever happened to you when you were little mom?" "Was I in your tummy when I was 2?" "Remember when I was a baby and I used to eat baby food?" "Remember that?" (half a second to catch breath) "Do pandas live in China or Africa?" "Do the kids in Africa not even have new toys mommy?" "When you were little did you go to the North Pole?" "Do ocutopus' sting?"
All of that literally takes only about 75 seconds for her to say. I can hardly keep up. While she is just finding her rythm, Im starting to go crosseyed!  I have learned to pick and choose my answers carefully because often one simple answer leads into 79 more questions, about half of which I will have a good answer for.

 *Pause*

...I get it....I am not the first person to ever have a child that talks them into a tailspin. Am I complaining? No, not really. I can appreciate it for what it is and see the cuteness factor in it. I suppose I find it to be equal parts endearing and exasperating. And Im glad I have a daughter with an ever-inquisitive, precocious mind. Really. But SOME DAYS, the dull ache behind my eyes starts even before I've brushed my teeth in the morning. Do I wish she was anything other than who she is? No, of course not. Do I wish I had more patience? More resiliance? More answers? YES! It makes me chuckle, because she's always been this way. She was talking well before she was 1, and talking WELL by the time she was 2. In fact, even in the delivery room and during our whole stay in the hospital there was no peace, no quiet. Spitfire from birth. Ah, I suppose its only fitting. In this very blog (Dont Fight The Funk post) I have said that I, myself, often worry that I've said too much. That Im a blurter.That I will never be one of those peripheral people who quietly take it all in and never let it out. I did say all that, didnt I. Oh dear.

 So it's a fine line I walk every day (and sometimes zigzag back and forth across)- trying to cultivate her little mind, and engage her in coversation, trying to make her feel heard and not disregarded. All the while trying to reign it in and guide it, otherwise, whatever the conversation, she's going to take that bull by the horns and steer it in whatever direction she fancies! Knowing when to really listen and when to shoosh (because lets all be real here, shooshing is fully necessary sometimes)  Its like she's a derailed caboose and we have to keep circling back around and re-attaching her to the train of thought. (pun intended) (And by the way, when is pun ever NOT intended? Whenever people say "no pun intended" there most definitely IS almost always "pun intended")
 We're trying to teach her not to interrupt, or to talk over people. Thats a big one we're working on at the moment. She's figured out that if she just talks louder that she can still get it all out regardless of whomever else might be attempting to get a word in edgewise. Moment of Honesty?: I keep catching myself getting in these climactic conversations with her where she is talking louder, then Im talking louder trying to be heard, then she's a notch higher trying to be heard, and then next thing I know Im practically shrieking "PLEASE TALK QUIETER OR YOU'RE GOING TO WAKE UP THE BABY!"...Right. Oops. I forgot to mention aside from the amount of talking, she has one volume. And its loud.

 Then I  have one of those smacking-your-palm-to-your-forehead moments, and remember that I am the boss. This small little person is 4 and I am 29. And granted, she may be a force to be reckoned with, but I do not need to get sucked into a 20 minute volley of words that leaves me in frenzied state! She's good at it too, because its not usually direct defiance, or even ornoriness in general, but more like a subtle sidestepping of the point (my point). She is quite old enough to grasp the concept of being quiet when need be. Of listening to me when I am talking. Of simply doing what I ask of her without voicing and re-voicing multiple opinions about it. Ah, getting tricky now, isnt it? Balancing the requirement  of obedience and respect (WITH a good attitude! minor yet huge clause), while nurturing and guiding, AND teaching? What is the best way to let them be who they are and yet mold them into what they should be?- (civilized and polite human beings) Because really, isnt that basically our whole job as parents?  I do think a kid is allowed to be a kid- and sometimes that means they are loud, and sometimes they cause a ruckus, and sometimes they have lots of questions. And that's okay!
But My Lanta! What's a lady gotta do to get some peace and quiet?

I Think Ace Ventura Put it Best When He Said "Find a Happy Place!"

Its all fun and games until one of them starts flinging poo. Oh yes. Welcome to my day. Come join me. Bask with me in the mayhem. "Give in to the power of the tea" if you will. (bonus points for readers who can name that movie). (Actually, double bonus points. Because Name That Movie is my favorite game ever. Second only to "Remember When...")

I think I felt it coming before I even opened my eyes this morning. Trouble. As if the only word I could clearly see forming on the foggy horizon of my brain was already going to be "BLURG".  Do you ever wake up so early that you feel nauseous? Like your body is so tired its literally rejecting wakefulness? Happens to me all the time. I think this might be part of why I hate breakfast so much. Its the only time of day you will catch me wishing for sleep over food.

I think I had a bad dream too. I've been reading a lot lately and both the books Im reading melded into one bizarre dream involving a heap of dead wolves with yellow eyes, (shudder), a rugged Scotsman (yes please),  and a troubling impression that I was grinding my teeth into gravel inside my own head (I actually do grind my teeth so this wasnt too far off). Suffice it to say, that I had a furrow in my brow before I even made it off of my pillow this morning. Both of my little darlings seemed to wake up on the wrong side of the bed as well, because before breakfast was over, there were two altercations between siblings,  one spill, followed by tears, followed by whining, followed by me snapping at my daughter over her highly dramatic display. Dangit. Not even 8:00 yet and I've already lost my cool. Deep breath. Apologize for being snappy, while trying to simultaneously squeeze in a lesson about attitudes of the heart. Only semi succesful in getting point across. She was pretty busy with her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and he just grins blankly at me every time I talk anyways, regardless of what Im saying. (which I secretly love).

And so it went for the next few hours. Rushing to get us all showered, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and out the door.(With no lack of battles over each one of those things)  Drop off at school, run errands, pick up from school, try to keep 1 year old happy and quiet as I try to be productive... Fail. Decide its a good idea to bundle up and head outside in the backyard for some good old fashioned fun. Enjoy approximately 4.5 minutes of delight, playing with my children, blowing and popping bubbles until Littler One spills Bigger One's bubbles. While I console Bigger One over the loss of her new bubbles and remind her to be gracious and forgiving with Littler One, and grab a towel to start mopping up  the sticky mess, I turn around just in time to see it. Littler One. Holding a poop. My dog's poop. Oh dear God.

After I shrieked, scolded Buster the dog (not that it was his fault. Hey, everybody poops), disinfected, scoured, and scrubbed up my son, called it quits with the bubbles, tried to make dinner amid seventeen interruptions regarding snacks, barbie shoes, a half eaten chapstick, and a completely emptied trash can on my kitchen floor, - after  that I decided to give it up.  It was one of those days where everything was harder than I thought it should have been. You know those days you have, as a parent, where you honestly get tired of hearing your own voice? I decided to abandon my efforts (however valiant they may be!) to force my day into something it wasnt going to be. So  I opened a diet Dr. Pepper, allowed myself one hearty eye-roll before I shooshed the "What the what?!" train of thought I felt forming in the back of my head, had a good chuckle, and  acquiesced to the funk. Sometimes ya gotta just let it be. So I took my remaining shreds of peace of mind and my diet Dr. Pepper into my daughters playhouse and let her pretend to be my mommy while Jaxon banged toy pots over my head for 20 minutes. And I daresay that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for all three of us.

The Thing with Dinner...

Moms out there: What IS IT with dinner?
Breakfast is smooth. I make the food, they eat the food. Easy, done. Lunch is pleasant. What is it about dinner in particular that something always seems to go awry? It's like the witching hour! Does this happen to you guys out there?

I enjoy cooking and maybe I even take it a bit ...well, personally. I put my heart into cooking for my family. (Okay, fine, not every SINGLE night. But most nights) Im not playing the martyr here, like I slave over the stove for hours a day at a thankless, drudgery-filled job. That's not my plight. My husband almost always says thank you after eating dinner and I actually cook because I enjoy it. Its just that after I've spent a considerable amount of time and effort in the kitchen making a meal, I have high hopes and possibly misplaced expections of the dinner hour itself. Its not actually even an hour, it takes anywhere for 30-60 minutes to make the food, but the actual eating takes only about 15 or 20 minutes. And while visions fill my head of my smiling family scooting up to the table, eating and enjoying the food, meanwhile engaging in pleasant, harmonious conversation- the breakdown of what really happens during that 15 or 20 minutes is a far cry. A far cry, people! Something is lost in translation from my ideals and my reality.

Every single night at dinner at least 3 of these 5 things will happen:
1) I will announce dinner is ready and proceed to call everyone to the table...about 5 times. This, I will confess is a total pet peeve. So much lollygagging! Does no one want the food to still be hot?
2) By the time we get both kids' food cut up, any hidden tomatos, onions, or other suspicious looking veg removed and sit down to eat ourselves, my 1 year old son has already finished everything on his tray, is now bored, and proceeds to either smash or throw any remnants of food anywhere he can reach. This is usually accompanied by lots of yelling and grunting.
3) And this one is always a guarantee- my 4 year old daughter is devastated by whatever happens to land on her plate that night. She simply cannot be bothered by food. She would survive on air and saliva if I allowed it. So this of course necessitates a whole lot of coaxing, enforcing, disciplining, etc. Shute, I'd do cartwheels across the table if it would get her to eat of her own free will.
4) All conversations, trains of thought, and unfinshed sentences are abandoned somewhere around mid-meal. Its either eat your own food while its still somewhat warm, or try and remember "what was it we were saying again?"
5) The 1 year old in the highchair has long been done, bored, and pacified beyond what he is in the mood for, and is now trying to make his great escape by jumping out of his highchair. Thank God he's never been successful in this yet, but it almost gives me a heart attack every time he tries.
By the time all is said and done, messes cleaned, dishes cleared, and the dust settles, Im pooped! It feels like a 3 ring circus some nights! Now I will say this: there are lots of great moments too. Bella usually says something offbeat and funny at least once. It may be less than peaceful at times, but we are all still seated together at the table having a family dinner, and that's a good thing. Jaxon is a rowdy little guy, but he is easily pleased and will eat anything I put in front of him. This thrills me.
I know it has much to do with the ages my kids are at, and it wont always feel like so much work. I was pondering this tonight as we ran (literally ran) Jaxon straight from the highchair to the bathtub. I was watching the two of them play and squeal while I soaped up their hair and their rosy cherub cheeks and pot bellies.  I dont want to wish these stages away. It can be a lot more work when they're this little, but its still simple. They need me (and I need them). They are still eager to please and to snuggle and they dont have a care in the world. They infuse my life with laughter and joy. The purest kind of joy. Like when my daughter touches my cheek and tells me Im the best mommy and she loves me "all the way to the moon and back down to the dirt and the flowers". Or when my son laughs his raspy little belly laugh. You just cant beat that. One day they'll be moody teenagers and granted, they'll be a tad more civilized at the dinner table, but it'll be a whole new ballgame by then.
I have learned a few helpful tricks along the way for in the meantime. Such as, BE PREPARED! As long as I have little pieces of food to keep shoveling onto his tray, my son is happy. This also goes for restaraunts.  A little snack, a little coloring book, a game of "I Spy"- they go a long way. And a timer has worked wonders in our household in getting my daughter to eat. If she really isnt eating at all, we put a timer on for 15 minutes. She is so mortified by the mere idea of the timer, that she instantly starts to eat. Victory!
Someday maybe we'll reach that holy grail of all eating while our food is still hot, with no battles, while bonding over a bowl of pasta. Until then, I'll just be happy that we're still bonding. So what if there's spaghetti on the ceiling.

Confessions: Second Edition

So here's the real truth of the matter, however unsettling it may be. I think Im getting lazy. When I used to work, I was so good at compartmentalizing my time. Work time, check. Family time, check. Cleaning/ grocery shopping time, check. Free time, check. I was so much better at focusing wholly on each particular thing and then moving on to the next.  I know life isnt always so "compartmentalized" and tidy like that, especially when juggling multiple roles in one day. We are a generation of multi-taskers. And we wear this badge as if its an honor. Maybe it is, to a degree. I can brush my teeth, put my daughter's hair in pigtails, talk on the phone, and keep my 12 month old out of the toilet (almost a full time job in itself) all the same time. Great. Grand. Getting things done.

Except...I think somewhere in the middle of all that, I tend to get swallowed up in the minutiae of my day. All those small tasks that maybe dont feel so groundbreakingly important, but on some level, they really are.  I cherish the time Im able to spend at home with my two kids. But...do I really? I know in my heart of hearts, that answer is a resounding yes. But Im thinking that a little bit of the importance of my 'job' ( Ewe. I dont like the way that sounds. Lets say mission) has been lost on me lately.  The tricky part, is that often some of the most mundane parental tasks- the ones we really dont love doing, if we're honest, can wind up being unexpectedly the sweetest moments. Goodnight prayers and kisses, early morning pre-coffee breakfast making, diaper changes that turn into tickle fights. But if Im always rushing through these things to get them done, instead of being actively present during them, I miss SO much. Its one thing to keep my children alive, fed, bathed, clothed, loved, safe, etc. That's the easy part. Its making the deposits in their hearts that requires so much more of me. And the scary part? Its easy not to do. Ooh. Just got REAL!  (chuckle)  It is though. Its easy to coast some days. To do the basic minimum requirement.

So I am personally (publicly) challenging myself. To rise to the occasion. To do my real and true best. And dont worry, its not some noble, grandiose proclamation to strike the perfect balance. Life is life. Whatever. Just putting myself in check.

In fact, this very moment, Jaxon is literally biting my ankles. Literally.  And Bella is running circles through the kitchen and dining room like a wild banshee. So this is me, closing my computer, turning off the tv, and being present. Otherwise, good Lord, the house might burn down.

Confessions of an Honest Mom

October 9, 2010

Ok. Moms out there: have we all been in that situation where you're having pleasant, small-talk-y conversation with another mom-acquaintance (which generally means talk about your kids. Story swapping, anticdote sharing, general inadvertant gushing)...and said mom keeps slipping in comments about how she "really just can't believe what a wonderful personality little Billy has". Or, "how truly, truly lucky she feels, and SO honored" to be little Suzy's mother. And you feel yourself smile and graciously agree, saying something along the lines of "Yes, they really are so charming, and yes you really should feel lucky". - When inwardly you stifle a hearty eye-roll. I mean, seriously? Let's all be real here. Dont ALL moms EVERYWHERE feel this way? Don't we all, deep in our hearts, feel that our kids are somehow spectacular?
Now,...(pause)...I get it. Im treading lightly here. I am not some cold, cynical, eye-rolling monster who doesn't wanna hear about your cute kid. On the contrary, I think its important to share the positive sentiments as much or probably more than sharing the negative ones. After all, its a mixed bag, is it not? I do, however, have a low tolerance for that subtle, passive-aggressive-my-life-is-ever-so-slightly-better-than-yours-THING that women can be so good at. There. I said it.
Does anyone know what Im talking about? That shift, however subterranean it might be, that feels like these pleasantries have suddenly taken on an ugly, slightly competitive edge? ...WHY?! What's the point?
I consider myself lucky to have a close circle of family and freinds, -moms themselves- who I can say this is not ever the case with. We all know and love each other and our subsequent children, and we can just go ahead and be real with each other. How refreshing! To be able to just come right out and admit that we, (or one of our little darlings) are having an 'off'day.  A bad day. A naughty day, even. (Gasp) It happens. Its true. No judgements. No clicking tongues or raised eyebrows. Because, as parents, aren't we ALL climbing that same, daily, uphill battle?
Now, at the risk of sounding like a negative nellie- I will ammend that I do not mean to sound, nor do I feel, that parenting is a drag. Not at all. As I've said before, there is nothing else I'd rather be doing. Nothing that can empty you, yet gloriously fill you up at the same time, quite like parenting. So let's all be chums, eh? Comrades. Let's all be real here.