More "Me" Space

I love my kids.  Can't say it enough.  I am so privileged to be able to stay home with them and watch them grow and develop.  I wouldn't change it for the world.  However, I find that it can be quite easy to lose myself in all of the caretaking.  If you can relate, please scroll down.

You know you need more "me" space when:

1.  You become overly protective of your coloring pages.  You have picked the color YOU would like for Dora's socks, and orange scribbling was NOT what you had in mind. 

2.  You wake up at night with your arms wrapped around your head, and your legs curled to your stomach in the fetal position.  This is to allow for the two dogs sleeping horizontally at your feet, and the two not-so-little boys on either side of you (who crawled in when you weren't looking).  This is in addition to your husband who is taking up the other half of the bed.  Half asleep, but dreadfully uncomfortable, YOU move to the boys room,  and crawl into a twin bed (which is soaked in the middle and might be the reason one boy is in YOUR bed).  You position yourself around the "wetness", hope it is "just" water, and fall quickly asleep. Ahh...space.

3.  You find the thought of Jury Duty relaxing.  Is there somewhere to sign up for that?

4.  You go to doctor and dentist appointments early, so that you can read your book and sit quietly. Talking with the doctor may be the only adult socializing that you do for the day, so, much to the hurried doctor's chagrin, you try to make it interesting.  You find yourself walking extraordinarily  s l o w l y  to and from your car.

5.  You go out to dinner with friends and offer everyone a wet-wipe after the meal.

6.   The last time your Facebook status was non-child-related was...well, that has never happened.

7.  You do not make phone calls during the day.  You have learned  that as soon as you pick up the phone, the whole household will start screaming and barking.   If you try to sneak a quick one during naptime, you will be sorry.

8.  You have your own favorite episodes of  "Max & Ruby" and "Dora the Explorer" ...and your least favorites too.

9.  You do not own any white or pale-colored pants.  Well, at least not anymore.

10.  You feel the urge to start making home-made signs for your door: "Keep Out.  No one under 5' allowed."  Too bad they can't read.

11.  You breathe a sigh of relief at bedtime, and hope that the next few hours of quiet will give you energy to make it through the whole next day of crazy. :) 

For more "Wordful Wednesdays" check this out:

 

Comments That Make My Day

My friend, WackyMummy who has been blogging longer than I, states it honestly when she puts above the comment section: “Comments That Make My Day.” Comments definitely have that ability.


Her tagline made me think about the comments that my kids make to me. For the first few years of parenting there are not many comments. You hope you are doing a good job, and there are lots of non-verbals to give you encouragement, but you don’t really KNOW.

And then, the babies start talking. And sometimes you wish you could stop them. My boys make comments, for good, or for bad, that stick in my head. Some of them do make my day. Some of them make me laugh. Some of them make me squirm.

For your amusement, I will start with the squirming.

The other day at McDonald’s (okay, no judging) while I was trying to order the standard, “Three boy Happy Meals, please” my four-year-old interrupted by saying, loudly, “Mommy, your butt is squishy.” Completely red in the face, I turned to him with my “BE QUIET eyes” and whispered, “SHhhh.” Of course he repeated it several times, each time louder than the previous. “SHHHHHH,” I hissed, desperately. “Squishy, Squishy,” he said.  I will have you know that I ordered nothing for myself.

And then the other day at the zoo, I was trying to save a little money, and didn’t feel especially hungry, so I ordered a kid’s meal for myself. “Mommy, why did you order FOUR kids meals? “Shhh.” “But MOMMY, why did you order FOUR of them? “Shhh.” “Is one of them for YOU?” “Shh!!” I said with those same glaring eyes. (Children don’t seem to respond to shushing or wide-eyed glares, do they? Yet that seems to be my only line of defense in those situations.)

The other morning I was making my bed. My four-year-old noticed and said, “Mommy, why are you making your bed? Is someone coming over?” Okay, so the cat's out of the bag. Just let me know before you come over, ‘kay?

And then there are the comments that make me re-think things.

“Mommy, you’re mean.” Sadly, sometimes I have to agree and apologize.

“Mommy, you said you were going to play with me.” That one stings. That one keeps me up at night.

But then there are the comments that do MAKE my day.


“Mommy, you are the best Mommy in the whole wide world.”

“Can I sit on your lap?”

“Ooh Mommy! You look SO pretty in that dress”

“Mommy, if you wore only one (hoop) earring instead of two, you could be a pirate Mommy. That would be more fun.” I loved that one.

And my favorite: “Mommy, when I grow up, I am going to buy the house next door, that way you can see your grandchildren every day. I have houses picked out for my brothers too.”

Yes, that one MADE my day. That one made my whole week.

I love comments. Most of the time.

The First Signs of Spring

Yes, I know.  That last one was scary.  At least I shaved.

I bought some of these,

but I'm not sure if streaky-unnatural-orange looks any better than white-as-can-be. 

So they are still sitting in my cabinet.

 Sad thing is, by the end of summer my legs won't be much darker. 

Oh well.

Happy Spring!

:)

Spring "Break"

Ah, Spring Break.  No school.  Read some books, take it easy, relax, have fun....

if you are a teacher or a child. 

If you are a parent however....well it is a bit more complicated. 

The scene above is deceiving.  This was yesterday in the yard.  

 I read one page before I was decorated with grass and begged for fudgesicles.

(the dog can hardly stand it!)

And then the fun began...

It is almost like he is sitting there thinking....

hmmm, what can I get into...?

and the answer is...

and this...

that was yesterday.

Today we went to the zoo...

Cute, huh?

Only, I once again confirmed that taking three children out in public, by myself, is a BAD idea. 

 It makes me feel like an inadequate shepherd to a flock of deaf sheep.

But I can't say that I'm not learning anything. 

This Spring "Break" is turning out to be quite educational.

Lesson #1  If you don't add milk or water to oatmeal before you put it in the microwave,

IT CATCHES ON FIRE. 

My four-year-old taught me this one.

Lesson #2:  If you hang out with the muddy, 

it is only a matter of time

Before you join them.

(My two-year-old taught me this one).

So much for reading my book in the grass...*sigh*

:)

Backseat Discipline

I get in my car, everyone is strapped in, I turn on some music.  I breathe a naive and premature sigh of relief.  Everything is under control, right?  HA!  You would think that having each child strapped into a seat would be a good thing.  Less mobility = less chance to get into trouble, right?  Ah, but they still have lungs and their bodies are amazingly flexible.

I try to focus on driving while the backseat is full of screaming, crying, "touching," "kicking," and "bothering."  It requires a great deal of patience and calmness.  I often lack both.  I feel like the limbless Black Night from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, barking out threats with no ability to carry them out:  "Come back here and take what's coming to you! I'll bite your legs off!" 

I have come to realize that despite my children's confining carseats, they have ME in a bind, instead of the other way around.  So I was considering ways to make it better....

Things that DON'T work:

1.  Time outs.  (Um, they are already strapped in and seated).

2. Threats of future Time Outs.  (Too easily forgotten...and THEY remember that you forgot). 

3.  "I'm going to stop this car RIGHT NOW and wait until you are QUIET before we continue!" (But THEY don't care if you are late to the doctor's appointment, expensive swimming lessons, or school.  You DO.  They know this.)

4.  Removing the child from the situation.  (Once again, not possible).

5.  Separating the offending parties.  (Carseats are SO easy to move around).

6.  Duct Tape. ( I'm pretty sure you would get in big trouble).

7.  Screaming.  (It feels kinda good at first...not so much later.  And it doesn't work, just adds to the overall car volume).

8.  Bribery. (It works for a few seconds/minutes, and then they forget, and then you remind them of the reward...few moments of silence...they forget...you remind them of the reward...they forget....  Yeah, it doesn't work.)

9.  Ignore them.  (The "Mommy Mommy Mommy's" get louder, louder, LOUDER until they are at a  ridiculous decibel.  Everyone is screaming.  The car is one huge load of lung power).  I turn up the music.  (They scream louder). 

10. Take away their toys.  (Now they are even more bored and more likely to annoy each other.)

11.  Reasoning with them. (They are 2, 4, and 6).


Things that DO work:







yeah, I got nothin'.

I Am An Awesome Mom...

...when the kids are asleep.

I never scream. I don't make empty threats. I don't wonder what crazy lady has invaded my body.  I don't lose it. I don't freak out.

Spilt milk is seen for the trivial accident that it is.  Lost shoes are obviously unintentional misplacements.  The gum in the carpet....well, okay, that one still drives me bonkers. 

But I realize how precious, how kind, how beautiful they are.

I realize how quickly time passes and I promise to do better tomorrow....

I wish I could say that I am an "awesome" mom when the three monkeys are awake. 

Guess I'll settle for "doing the best I can without going nuts,"... and getting them to bed as early as possible. 

Keeping Up Appearances

I thought I had put some of my perfectionistic tendencies behind me, you know, the need to look like I have it altogether even when I don't...and I have improved, to a great degree.  But here I am, back in a school setting (dropping off and picking up my children, does that count?) and I find myself once again trying to make a good show for the teachers.  But alas, the facade is quite thin, and I am afraid my raw, unorganized self is completely apparent :). 


Picture day:  Well, to start off, I completely forgot about it.  As I am getting out of the car and noticing all of the cutely dressed children, the realization hits me.  Of course, I have no order form and no money.  I glance over at Sammy.  He is wearing a red, white and blue hand-me down T-shirt and some ratty gray and white soccer shorts (his favorites).  He had dressed himself of course, and  I had paid little attention while I was scrambling to brush my teeth and get out the door. I suppose, if circumstances had been slightly different, this would have been okay.  He may have been pitied by all the fashion-conscious mothers who bought the class picture, but otherwise, no harm done. 

However, Sammy had found a chocolate candy in the car and had used his shirt for a napkin.  Chocolate smeared ALL over his clothes. I consider what to do... wet wipes? won't work.  Water? won't dry fast enough.  So, thinking quickly, I  swap shirts with Andrew.  Okay, so Andrew wears 2T and Sammy wears 4T...  "Too tight" has got to be better than "covered in chocolate," right? at least a little?   Now Sammy is wearing a too small red and blue shirt with ratty gray and white soccer shorts.  Not much better.  

I run with him to the preschool door, huffing and puffing,  apologize for being so unorganized, and say that I will be right back.  I was hoping for a compassionate smile, but I only got a "get it together, lady" glare. "We are the first class to get pictures this morning, so hurry" she says.  So I hurry.  I come back to my car, and find my trunk WIDE OPEN.   I guess I left it open in my panicked rush.  I slam it, get in my car and start driving.  Yelling at the "slow" drivers in front of me, and traumatizing Andrew in the back seat with my impatience, I finally make it back to the classroom. I grab Sammy out of class, strip him down outside his classroom door, and replace his hand-picked, too tight clothes with a cute plaid button down and some khaki shorts. I push him through the door, and he quickly rejoins circle time. Whew.

A new resolution to be more organized.  I can do it!  I can do it!  The next school day:


His school bag:  The preschool has given each child a special bag in which they are supposed to carry their lunch box and all of their paperwork.  Every morning, each child hangs their bag on a hook outside the classroom.  Somehow, Sammy's ended up in the dirty laundry basket, so I washed it.  This morning when I dropped Sammy off, I hung up his bag.  It is not hard to miss.  Fifteen neatly hung bags, and right near the end is Sammy's.  Two sizes smaller and a complete wrinkled mess.... 


Someday I'll show them what an organized, "with it," mom I am.  Someday....
Yeah, probably not.