Sadie and a Haircut, 2 Bits

Tonight I took Sadie to get a haircut. She decided she wanted it short in the back and long in the front. It looks pretty cute on her - she's growing up so fast now that I don't really know how to deal with it. I've been trying to talk to her more about things, though. Like tonight, when we got finished at "the haircut store," we went over to the mall. I had to go in Victoria's Secret (which I try not to do) and so we had a nice discussion about modesty and keeping your body as a special gift for your husband. I tried to explain it like if she had a special present that she'd been saving and saving for a long time for just the right person, she wouldn't want to just run out and give it to the first person she saw walking down the street. She'd want to make sure she gave it to just the right person - one who would appreciate it and not take it for granted and who would LOVE her so much.

Anyway (after a pretzel and a Julius), she also wanted to stop in at the Kidgits Playground - even though there was no one else with us. So we did, and even though she was the biggest kid in the playground, she got right in there and started running around just like always. She jumped off the big baseball, she climbed up on the Cow that Jumped Over the Moon, she climbed in the rocket and tried to fly it. Then she went right over to the little kids that were playing... she helped a little 2 year old boy climb up on the cow, then she climbed up behind him and held him so he wouldn't fall off. She played with a little 4 year old girl who totally took right up with her - she kept turning upside down on the tunnel and yelling "Boo!" and the little girl would just crack up. I loved watching her with all these kids - from 1 all the way up to 5 or so... Sadie towered over all of them, but she had the sweetest look on her face - you could tell she was just happy to be playing with them. And they all followed her around like she was the Pied Piper or something - she had them playing tag and holding hands and playing "the jumping game" and she made sure no one was left out. I guess little kids can tell who is gentle - and who is a friend - right away. I just love that girl.

What's your name?

A big "T" comes on the screen of our new TV when you first turn it on.

I said, "What is that T for?"

Sadie replied, "Oh, that's just the name of the TV. Its first name is 'T.' Its last name is 'V.'"

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 Now, whenever I ask Jed what his name is, he replies, "'Diah Hayes." Cutest thing ever... but why doesn't he just say, "Jed?" Have I already resorted to calling him by his full name??

Mother of all playlists

Earlier this week I looked through my iTunes playlist to see if there was anything I could delete (I’ve become somewhat addicted to Pandora, so I need more space for new songs – ie: anything by Zac Brown.)

As I scrolled through, my kids were chattering away in the background (as usual.) I happened to come across the old Eric Carmen song All By Myself and I thought, “Wow, being all by myself sounds pretty darn good at this moment.”

This led me to my newest list:

Songs for Moms. I had so much fun with this that I think I might have to do two lists.
Now, the lyrics of these songs do not necessarily coincide with the plight(s) of motherhood. It’s more the titles that I’m interested in. Keep in mind that this list came from my personal music collection. Therefore, you’ll probably think it’s pretty lame. I tend to like old stuff, since I am old myself.

All By Myself – Eric Carmen
Isn’t this every mom’s dream? I wanna be… all by myself! In the bathroom, all by myself!
Beast of Burden – The Rolling Stones
This is what I have become. I find myself carrying diaper bags, overnight bags, at least one kid, a purse, a set of keys, a violin, some yoga mats, a water bottle and a box of animal crackers pretty much everywhere I go.
Somebody that I Used to Know – Gotye
Not only is this my 4 year old’s “very favoritest” song, but this is also what I sing when I look in the mirror. Who is this person with the frizzy hair, the dark circles under her eyes and the flab from four babies where her jeans should be zipping? Yeah… let’s top that off with my mother’s voice is coming out of her mouth, too. Yep, I’ve turned into somebody that I used to know.
Pour Some Sugar on Me – Def Leppard
My 2-year-old son’s theme song. He chases me around the house saying, “Can-nY? Can-nnYYY? PEASE! Do-dut! Ice Cweam! Want some!”
Don’t Stop Believin’ – Journey
You sing this to your kids when their cousins tell them that there is no such thing as Santa Claus.
Mama Said – The Shirelles
The answer to pretty much every single “Why?” question that I hear throughout the day. I counted once – it’s roughly a total of 237.
Every Little Thing She Does is Magic – The Police
What you think about your little girl when she starts cooing, laughing and babbling. And then again when she’s five, gets a $4 magic set and says, “Hey! Watch this twick!” every five minutes.
Feels so Right – Alabama
What your 4-year-old tells you when she just CAN’T figure out which shoe goes on which foot – after you try to teach her EVERY SINGLE DAY for the previous SIX MONTHS. It’s on the wrong foot! “But, Mommy, it doesn’t feel wrong! It feels so right!”
Every Step You Take - The Police
Every move you make, every breath you take, every step you take – they’ll be watching you. Yes, they are, in fact, little pint-sized stalkers.
I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For – U2
I put the cereal in the dishwasher and I put the milk in the microwave. I put dirty clothes in the bathtub and I put yogurt on the washing machine. I put my iPad in my sock drawer and I put my Bible behind the coffee maker. I doubt I’ll ever find my original set of keys and there’s absolutely no hope for that earring I misplaced last week.
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face – Roberta Flack
This one’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I’ve loved all four of my babies with a desperate, heart-wrenching love from the very first moment I saw their scrunched up little faces in the delivery room.  These lyrics have been printed out and permanently attached to every “Baby’s First Year” book in this house.

from my 2/24/13 post for www.mentorpatch.com 

You're Not That Special

It seems like some people only think about themselves.

You see the evidence everywhere these days: rude drivers, foul language, bad tempers and frivolous lawsuits. I'm guilty of selfish thinking, too – I’ll be the first to admit it.

Where does this behavior (in adults, especially) come from? It had to start somewhere.

I want my children to grow up to be good citizens, good people, good friends. I certainly don't want them to end up with a “me-first mentality.”

How to avoid it, though? How can I train them to avoid being contaminated by the selfishness that's around us every day? I can’t help but think of how we are constantly bombarded with reality shows, teased by ads for $2500 shoes and made aware of millions of political campaign dollars spent recklessly in our country while thousands of Americans are out of work, cold and even starving.

At the risk of sounding like an old fogey (do people even use that word anymore?) I've noticed that "kids these days" seem to be entering young adulthood with a sense of entitlement. They expect success (and the accolades and rewards that come along with it) even if they've done nothing - or very little - to earn it. They think they’re special - and then when they aren't treated that way in “the real world,” they become highly offended, dejected – even despairing.

Why?

Other than the obvious media hype, there must be other things, too. I've been thinking about this. I try really hard to make my kids feel like they’re special. They are special to me, to their families, to their friends, to God.
But are they better than anyone else? Nope.
Wow. Now that I type that out, it seems much more like a concrete truth. I don't want to raise them with a sense of entitlement. How can I teach them that while they are important – and even “special” – that they don't deserve "special treatment?"

These days, it seems like there’s a trophy for everyone. No one wants to feel bad – and of course no one wants their kids’ feelings to get hurt, including me. But guess what? If my child never feels bad – if she never has to learn to deal with feelings of rejection or sadness, then how the heck is she supposed to deal with those feelings when she’s an adult? Childhood is training for life!

I guess what I’m trying to say here – even to sort out in my own mind – is this: am I doing things that might cause my kids to be inconsiderate? To feel entitled?

I recently read something along the lines of this: If a little bit of praise is good for a child’s self-esteem, then a LOT of praise must be great for a child’s self-esteem. Right?

Hmm. I don’t think so. If I praise my child for regular old everyday things, like: “Hey, good job brushing your teeth! Good work hanging up your coat! You are the best scooter rider ever!” just so they’ll feel good about themselves, doesn’t it downplay the times when they actually work hard to achieve something? In their heads, they must be thinking, “What’s the big deal? Anybody can brush their teeth. Sheesh.”

I don’t want them to feel good about themselves because I am proud of them. Who knows? I may not be around forever.

No, I want them to feel good because they are proud of themselves.

I want them to feel good because they earn that feeling – because they actually accomplish something or they help someone or they stand up for what they believe is right.

Not because they are entitled.

-from my 2/24/13 post for www.mentorpatch.com 

Self-Esteem Building with Adelaide

Today's self-esteem builder, brought to me by Adelaide, age 4: 

A: "Hey, you don't look like my mom."
Me: "Oh? Who do I look like, then?"
A, in all seriousness: "Well, kind of like a witch."

Adelaide has seen the wind!

She's got it! Adelaide has finally "got" rhyming. No more weird "Have you ever seen a bear eating some cheese?" or "Have you ever seen a dog wearing a hat?" Nope! She's got it! "Have you ever seen a goat riding a boat?" and "Do you ever see a chair wearing underwear?" Down by the bay! Yahoo! She's got it!

I was beginning to wonder... I think it helped that she memorized "The Wind" by Christina Rossetti.

Poetry "reading"

Family Valentines

I’ve always loved Valentine’s Day.
 
When I was a little girl, I loved signing teeny little cards and sealing them with teeny little stickers. I loved putting notes in my friends’ cardboard mailboxes, and I loved reading all the valentines I would get in return from them.

I loved the big red paper heart my mom always put on the kitchen door and the cupcakes she made for me with heart-shapes stuck in the icing.

I remember getting a gift from my daddy every year: flowers, a basket holding two little stuffed white kittens with pink ribbons around their necks and a little pin with two teddy bears sitting on a loveseat (I still have it, thirty years later.)

When your parents make you feel extra special, those times that stick with you.

This week, my husband took our three girls to a program at the library called Chocolates for Dads and Daughters. Together, they taste-tested all kinds of chocolate, played a guess-the-candy game (think Swashbuckling Trio = Three Musketeers) and then the four of them made chocolate-dipped spoons (with sprinkles!) and little Hershey Kiss rose bouquets.  

When I asked 7-year-old Josie what the best part was, she thought for a second. Then she said, “Well, I liked making the roses, but my really favorite part was having Dad there. He acted like a kid. He did crafts with us and everything.”

Later on in the week, we spent an entire evening making homemade valentines (and I don’t mean Martha Stewart homemade. I mean pink-construction-paper-stickers-and-creativity-homemade.)
It was fun to see their final products, though: little lop-sided happy faces, slanted hearts and squiggly handwriting proclaiming “I love you Mom!” or “You’re cute!” or “I love my family!”

This is the first year that 4-year-old Adelaide has been able to sign her own name and use scissors well enough to cut hearts from paper (well, sort of.) She also made a collage with pretty valentine-y pictures she found in a magazine.

Jed, her 2-year-old brother, “helped” her by stealing the glue-stick and rubbing it all over the table and then his head. He also tried to swipe her scissors while yelling “I cut! I CUT!”
8-year-old Sadie, decorator extraordinaire, put herself in charge of covering the kitchen and family room with hearts, cupids and pink paper lanterns.

Once the house was appropriately decorated, we played a game I found on-line called “Don’t Eat Pete.” It’s very simple – just a sheet of paper with 9 cute little Valentine monsters on it. After we put a little candy conversation heart on each monster, one person had to leave the room. Everyone else looked at the paper and decided which monster was “Pete.” Then the child who left the room came back in and started taking the hearts off one by one. But if the child grabbed the heart on the monster designated as “Pete,” everyone else yelled “DON’T EAT PETE!” and cracked themselves up.

The game was a rousing success. We would’ve played longer, but after our fifth round, Jed gobbled up half the candies while we were trying to decide which monster was going to be Pete.

Later, we made heart tarts with puff pastry and strawberry jam, and then the girls helped their dad make some chocolate-covered strawberries and bananas for me.

Now, I like a chocolate-covered strawberry just as much as the next girl, but one thing I’ve learned about Valentine’s Day over the years is this:

The sweetest thing of all is spending time with my family.

-from my 2/17/13 post for www.mentorpatch.com 

Investigations by Josie

Josie now calls her brother "Sonny Boy." Her brother, in return, goes around saying, "My turn! My turn! My turn! My turn!"
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She also recently learned to do 3 digit addition. This is the strange conversation we had that followed her first page of them: "Mommy, PLEASE can I have more math problems? PLEASE!!!?"
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Adelaide wanted to use the battery-powered screwdriver that Jed and Josie were using to "work" on a block of wood in the family room floor. It was rightfully her turn, and she told Josie so. Josie told her, over and over, "Wait! Can't you see that I'm INVESTIGATING something!? I will let you have it when I am done with my INVESTIGATION! Seriously! This is a serious INVESTIGATION that I am INVESTIGATING!"

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And Josie still says "Breftast" and "Callapillar." I don't correct her anymore because, honestly, I don't want her to stop saying it that way.

Do Storks Honk?

My kids and I recently started a yoga class.

It’s really for kids, but moms like to join in and pretend that they are working out. At least that’s what I do.

My girls were skeptical at first. They didn’t want to go, they weren’t sure about taking off their socks, they didn’t know the poses, blah blah blah.

I’m pretty sure I was even more skeptical than they were. A yoga class for KIDS? How can kids do yoga? Isn’t it all about breathing, peace, quiet and relaxation? (These are four areas in which my children do not tend to excel .)

Today when we arrived, Jedidiah (age 2) took off his coat and yelled “Soos! Off! Soos!” then he stole his sister’s mat and draped it over his head.

Then there was a minor incident amongst my daughters regarding who would get the dark purple yoga mat and who would get the light purple yoga mat. (Really, people?) Finally, everyone found a spot and sat down.

The teacher was great. She kept them focused, interested and laughing. She explained how each of us is like an onion with three layers: spiritual, mental and physical. Yoga helps rejuvenate and sustain each layer.
She started off the class by having everyone wake up their entire bodies. As you can imagine, this involved a lot of jumping, wiggling and spinning.

Next was the fireworks pose. Zip! Hands zoom into the air. Boom! Hands clap over heads. Woooooooo. Hands fall back down to sides. This was a major hit.

After that was the lion pose. Apparently, it’s really fun to stick your tongue all the way down to your chin and ROAR like crazy.

Then they flapped their arms while they did the stork pose. There were a couple of honks from the back of the room. (Do storks honk?)

They enjoyed practicing what she called the “downward-facing doggy-dog” position. Jedidiah copied his sisters. He bent over, head between his knees, little butt up in the air. This was followed by a loud, inevitable toot – which was then followed by inevitable giggling.

They turned into cobras, flat on their stomachs with their heads up – searching for (nonexistent, thankfully) rats and mice.

They balanced on one foot to do the tree pose. The teacher said, “What beautiful trees! Look how those branches sway in the wind!” Someone lost their balance and called out “Timmm-ber!”

She also taught them a modified frog pose, which really worked out the old thigh muscles. The kids cried out for more, but the moms cried out, “Please stop!”

My favorite part of the whole class was the last pose, called Shavasana. You are supposed to relax and feel yourself melt into the floor. Everyone is supposed to be quiet and calm.

I have a sneaking suspicion that it was every mom’s favorite part. I wish it lasted longer.

The teacher rang the chimes. Then we bowed and said “Namaste,” which means “My soul bows to your soul.”

Afterward, the kids ran around playing freeze tag. I heard the occasional shout of “Namaste!”
I guess it can also mean “My soul unfreezes your soul.”

It just goes to show you – you can take the kids to yoga, but you can’t calm them down.

-from my 2/10/13 post for www.mentorpatch.com 

February Funnies

"I am not a nomad! I'm an Egyptian!" "Well, I'm an Indian princess from Pondicherry!" "No, I'm the president!" "Well, I'm a teenager, so there!"
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 Discussion of a possible beach trip: Me: I hope there are tide pools close by! Josie: I hope there are lots of seashells! Adelaide: I hope there is a squished dead bird head! ....
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Sadie, pointing to the back of her knee: "This right here is my leg pit." 
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So my iPad (Siri) just called me Monkey Butt Stinkhead Poop Face. Looks like I'm going to have to use a passcode....
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Adelaide: I hurt my finger in the door! Me: should I kiss it? A: no. Me: should I laugh? A: no. Me: should I cry? A: no. Me: well, what should I do then? A: "You should call on The Lord, that's what! And say, hey, oh Lord, come over here and help me with my finger!"
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Jed just came into the kitchen with his toy hammer and said (I kid you not), "hammer time!"
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Jed: "I hungie." Me: "What do you want to eat?" Jed: "FOOD!"
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I love the color-blindness and sweet innocence of children. Today when we were talking about civil rights and Dr.MLK, Adelaide said, "Wait... We're WHITE?"     

Solutions for Chubby Moms

I’m not fat.

Okay, so maybe I’m a little bit fat.

I had four 8-pound babies in 6 years – all of my deliveries were C-sections because I have a spinal deformity. I gained 40 pounds with each pregnancy.

I’d lose 30 fairly quickly each time, but then hold on to the remaining ten. Let’s see… 10 lbs. x 4 kids = 40 pounds more than I’d prefer.

I experienced some depression after my last baby. Having weird post-partum hypertension headaches and carpal tunnel in both arms did not help matters. I’m also not one of those moms who shed pounds like crazy while breastfeeding. I was ravenous.

Anytime the babies were nursing, I’d be shoveling food into my face faster than they could suck it out (please pardon the visual.)

My oldest is now 8, my youngest now 2 – and I still haven’t been able to lose all of the baby weight. With my back issues, some days I’m barely able to walk, much less hit the gym early in the morning.

I’m not obese. I don’t eat horribly and I’m not lazy. I ride my bike when the weather allows. I swim when I can. If given the choice between fried or grilled, I choose grilled. I eat vegetables. I drink water. I rarely eat dairy.

But I don’t want to break my leg and have gravy fall out, if you know what I mean.

So, sometimes I’ll eat the watered-down version of what I serve to the kids. For example, if they have cheeseburgers with lettuce, I’ll have…lettuce.

Or if they have PBJs, I’ll have a turkey on wheat.

But when I sit down to eat (which is a rarity, as all moms know), I am constantly distracted by spilled drinks, strange questions, flying forks and requests to go potty. Usually I get up from the table and think, “Wait…Did I eat anything?”

Then I proceed to scrape the leftovers into the trash can – otherwise known as my mouth. Cheese! Gooey peanut butter crust!

I’m pretty sure this is how calories sneak into my body. They’re very stealthy, those calories.

That has to be it, because I’ve stopped eating Oreos. I haven’t had Crab Rangoon in months. My taste buds have forgotten the frozen deliciousness of Mountain Dew Slushies.

Why?

Because I want my kids to make healthy choices. When my little one asks for more cauliflower or says how great the broccoli is tonight, it totally makes my day. But I also want to lose some weight. Not so much for the sake of appearance, but because I need more energy.

So I looked for advice. I came across a study which informed me that moms of children ages 6 and younger are eating worse, getting less exercise and therefore gaining more weight than women who don’t have children.

Wow. Really? This is news?

The main problem I had with this study was the fact that they didn’t even address the extra weight that moms gain while they are busy GROWING A NEW HUMAN.

The study also mentioned that “mothers had a slightly higher average body-mass index than childless women — 27 versus 26.” Gee, a whole point? We are really beefing up. I find it rather hard to swallow (no pun intended) that it’s necessary to make us feel bad over one measly point.

The study went on to say that they weren’t trying to blame moms (oh, thanks very much), but warn them so that they can figure out some solutions. Looking for solutions, are they? How do my solutions sound to you, moms?

• Two years of paid maternity leave, so we don’t have to a) go straight back to work and stress out over breastfeeding, pumping, childcare and housework OR b) stay home and stress out about money, bills and threat of foreclosure. In either case, most of us sacrifice ourselves on the altar of neglect - in favor of our babies, of course.
• A free personal chef/nutritionist/trainer that can single-handedly turn us into the hard-bodied stereotypes that the media wants us all to perceive as “ideal women.”
• Paid time off for new dads, so we can have help with the laundry and fifteen minutes to ourselves once in a while instead of gorging on chocolate and Red Bull just to keep ourselves going past two in the afternoon.
• Healthy food on the value menus at every drive-through. Let’s face it. Sometimes there just isn’t enough time to prepare healthy meals. And why are salads so much more expensive than cheeseburgers?
• Free baby-sitting, so we don’t have to pay money that we don’t have in order to go to a Pilates class (also costing money that we don’t have.)
• Someone to take over at night so we can get more than 3 hours of sleep at a stretch. Did you know that lack of sleep is directly related to weight gain? I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in eight years!

The point is, we all have issues with our bodies. We could all probably eat healthier, live healthier, be healthier. But the focus on my weight – I think I’m just about over it.

Could I stand to lose a little? Yes. Would I feel better? Definitely.

Do I feel bad about that one extra BMI point? No way!

And neither should you.

-from my 2/3/13 post for www.mentorpatch.com 

Pink is for Girls, Blue is for Boys, Right?

Pink is for girls, blue is for boys. Right?

I guess so, but even when they were babies, I dressed my girls in things that were considered somewhat less than girly (they had a green camo outfit that was always a favorite.) I painted their rooms pale blues and greens. I chose a jungle-themed nursery followed by one with cute little bugs. I went with a gray and black stroller and a beige car-seat.

No, I haven’t purposefully steered my daughters away from trains and toward tiaras. I haven’t hidden the Barbies from 2-year-old Jedidiah and tried to force him toward toy trucks. I've tried to remain neutral.

But, honestly, it doesn’t really seem to matter.

With no urging from me, my girls want to wear fancy dresses every single day of their lives. For hours, they will sit and color beautiful pictures of unicorns, rainbows and princesses. They want to wear sparkly jewelry and lip gloss and high heeled shoes. They like to paint and make all sorts of crafts. They sit still and listen during Storytime. They like to talk. And talk and talk and talk. They love to play dress up and have tea parties. They read and play Candyland and bake cookies. They build tents in pretend jungles and they pretend to be mommy lions with lots of little baby lions. They like to sew and wear aprons and look for fairies.

Jedidiah, who doesn’t even know what a sword or a gun is yet (he’s two) turns half of the things he picks up into weapons and the other half into “choo-choos” or “aiwpwains.” One of the first words he ever said (if it’s considered a word) was “vroom.” He doesn’t care much for books, unless he’s using one as a projectile. He doesn’t like to color – on paper anyway. He prefers a nice clean wall or an unsuspecting dog. He runs at all times. He covers himself in mud and splashes all the water out of the bathtub. He loves sticks and balls. If he sees a button, he has to push it. If he sees a DVD player, he is compelled to stick something in it (usually something other than a DVD.) If it’s on, he has to turn it off. If it’s full, he has to dump it out. He wants to climb up the tallest slide on the playground and hurtle himself down at top speed.

I wonder if these characteristics have been influenced by my children's families, their peers, their church, the gifts they received when they were babies - or are their little brains hardwired to be this way?

It’s weird. My girls will wear their fancy dresses even while they’re climbing trees, making mud pies, playing Legos and watching Lord of the Rings.

And Jedidiah is 100% boy, but he loves to use the Dustbuster and help cook in the kitchen. He likes sparkly things, stickers, fluffy stuffed animals and pushing his little baby doll around the house in the stroller.

I love the way they don’t care one bit about gender stereotypes. They like what they like, period. And as for me, I’ve come to this conclusion:

So what if my girls want to take archery lessons or gut fish? Who cares if Jed thinks it’s funny to try on his sisters’ shoes or put a hair-bow on his head once in a while?

They are learning to be who they are – and that’s exactly who I want them to be.

-from my 1/27/13 post for www.mentorpatch.com 

Carrot airplane

Jed has become quite the little comedian in the past few days. I walked into his room to get him up from his nap and he peeked at me from under his half-closed eyelids then closed them tight and commenced to fake snoring. Then he laughed and laughed.

Then he popped my bra strap and cracked himself up over and over. You'd think he was in 5th grade instead of being 2.

Josie snuck into his room while he was playing and said, "Boogity!" He jumped and then almost cried. Then he decided he was mad instead and he shoved her out the door and said "OUT! WOOMB!"

As I was reading Jed's ABC book to him, he pointed at a picture of a carrot and said, "Aiw-pwane." I said, "That's a carrot." He said, "No, Aiw-pwane!" "No, it's a carrot." "AIW-PWANE!" Apparently it's a flying carrot.

I smell fear

After Josie and Sadie helped Jesse set 9 mouse traps all around the house and the basement (and baited with peanut butter) because of some "unsightly sightings," we caught FIVE in two days! Jesse brought a little carcass up from the basement and Adelaide wanted to look at it. She so sweetly said, "He's awake!" because his eyes were open. Jesse told her that he was sleeping (because he wasn't moving!) A few minutes later she came up to me and (SO SWEETLY) looked up at me and said, "Mommy, why do mouses sleep with their eyes open?"

Adelaide: "I smell fear."

Poor Adelaide is trying her best to RHYME but she just hasn't quite gotten it yet. Josie and Sadie were rhyming away in the car - "have you ever seen a bear combing his hair? Have you ever seen a duck down on his luck?" etc. Adelaide tried countless times but always ended up with things like, "Have you ever seen a lamp wearing some socks? Have you ever seen a bear eating some cheese? Have you ever seen a fox kissing a rat?"

Things I love

Things I love:

Snuggling with Sadie and Josie while watching documentaries on Mount Vesuvius.

Playing "Don't wake the Tickle Monster Game" with Josie, Adelaide, and Jed.

Listening to Adelaide say lasagna "Bazanya."

Sadie, in regards to marshmallows in hot chocolate -
"Which is healthier? Pink or white?" Neither. "Okay, I'll use both."

Just say yes.

Lately I’ve been thinking about how much I say no.

That word – no – just seems to naturally roll off my tongue. I’m not sure why, but it seems like my default setting is no.

I tend to say no first and ask questions later (or think about why and perhaps change to yes later.) Sometimes I have legitimate reasons for this – like maybe I’m in a bad mood. But sometimes, I’ll admit that I say no for no reason.

Why, I wonder? Shouldn’t yeses -- or yesses, whatever that plural is-- come easier? I mean, I love my kids like crazy. I want them to live joyfully and to be happy. I want to give them as much freedom as possible to make their own decisions. I want them to love learning and fill their days with things that are important to them, so why so many no’s?

Maybe I have a subconscious need to keep up with the status quo. As I say no, sometimes I think, “Why am I saying no to this? Is it really wrong?”

Usually it’s not. Usually it’s more like “The other moms don’t do it this way! My friend doesn’t do it this way! My mom, my grandmother didn’t do it this way! So I shouldn’t let my kids do it this way, either!”

Right?

Wait a minute, though. My 7-year-old is not like yours, or another moms’, or even like my mom’s or my grandma’s 7-year-olds were. Nor is she like any other child in the entire world.

If she wants to wear a Viking helmet on her head and play the banjo on the way to the grocery store, why don’t I say yes? If my 8-year-old wants to fill a dozen egg cartons with the dirty rocks she dug up outside and sort them for hours in her room, why don’t I just say yes? If my 4-year-old wants to climb trees in a tutu and poke Cheerios down a chipmunk hole with her umbrella, what exactly is wrong with that?

I want to say yes more often. I really do.

I guess that sometimes I think my kids care mainly about the things I give them. But in all honesty, they probably care a lot more about the answers I give them. The yeses.

So when are some of the times when I should start saying yes when I usually say no?

Probably the times when I hear questions like these: Can I dig a big hole in the yard with this spoon? Blow bubbles in the car? Play with Play-doh in the kitchen? Dump the clothes out of the laundry basket and use it as a boat? Be the one who makes lunch for everybody? Play the drums? Stay at the library longer? Build a tent in the living room? Read just one more story? Decorate the house for a tea party? Make Jello? Have breakfast for dinner (again)? Stay up late and look at the stars?

These things might be messy or inconvenient or even downright annoying. But when I see the looks on my kids’ faces when they get a yes, it’s always worth it.

I know that my kids and my husband are gifts from God. I firmly believe that my purpose at this point in life is to be a mom (and admittedly not very much else!) If I view them and God (since I’m a Christian) as my main priorities, then I should be able to put them first and everything else to the side, right? Everything else should be secondary.

Interruptions, messes and inconveniences (which happen at my house all the time) can be moved to the back burner if I decide to stick to my priorities. If I decide to say yes.

And even though there will always be times to say no, next time I want to catch myself and make sure I have a good reason for it.

Surprise your kids (and yourself) with some unexpected yeses and see what happens. Maybe it will be a moment of unexpected joy! And don’t we all need more of those?

YES.

-from my 1/20/13 blogpost for www.mentorpatch.com

Adelaide's Antics

Adelaide, practicing the 12 disciples song: "Rupert, Simeon, Levi, Judah...."

One day, Adelaide found a little cup full of Chuck E. Cheese tokens, which she immediately started handing out to everyone in sight, saying "Money for the poor! Money for the poor!" I said, "Hey, I wish a real person was doing that!" She stopped and looked at me and said, "Excuse me, but I AM a real person!"

Adelaide is a big fan of the Yoga class we started taking. She gets a big kick out of pretending to be a tree, a cobra, lion, etc. A few Fridays ago we went to Yoga and we watched Life of Pi. She informed me the next day: "Hey, guess what? I liked BOTH of those things we did yesterday, yoga AND the movie!"

A Year of Funnies

Every year we send out a family newsletter, and everyone’s favorite part always seems to be the list of one-liners my kids have come up with throughout the year.

This is part of that list; I hope these will help you start your year with a smile.

On the way to the doctor with Adelaide, I said, "Please do not toot on the
doctor this time." Adelaide: "Or he will not give me a sucker?" Me: "Would you give someone who tooted on you a sucker?" Adelaide: "Yes, if they were behind me."

Overheard during bathtime: Adelaide: "Are you scared of ovarians?" Josie: "Ovarians? You mean barbarians?" Adelaide: "Yes, barbarians. Are you scared of barbarians?" Josie: "No, not really."

Mom: "Good morning, my little sunshine." Josie: "I’m not sunshine. I’m moonshine."

Adelaide handed me a fortune cookie and said: "Here, Mom. Can you get the directions out?"

Mom: "Well, if you must." Josie: "I must."

Sadie: "God is like a genie, but better."

Adelaide, in the bathtub: "It's raining, it's pouring, the dinosaur is snoring."

Adelaide: "Mommy, sometimes you are allergic to fun."

Mom: "On top of spa-GHETTI, all covered with CHEESE, I lost my poor MEATball..." Josie: "Don't sing that song. It makes me sad."

“Blood in the Water. I think that’s what I’ll call my book.” - Sadie, after picking a scab off her knee in the bathtub.

Adelaide, while putting together a Wizard of Oz puzzle: “Hey! Here is a piece of the Ella Fa Krode!"

Josie, in response to me saying that she was a big girl: "I am not a big girl. I am a tiny woman."

Adelaide, gazing up into the blue fall sky: "Hey, look! A bird herd!"

Sadie: “Hey, Mommy, did you hear some crying coming from the direction of the
refrigerator? I think maybe it was the SCREAM cheese."

Mommy to a crying Jed, after he fell off the couch and bonked himself: "Oh,
Jeddy, what did you hit?" Adelaide to Mommy: "I think it was the ground, Mommy! I think the ground."

Adelaide asked for more ice cream after already having a whole big bowl. I said, "MORE? Are you kidding me?" She said, "Ha ha, yeah Mom. No, actually, I'm not."

Grammie tried to take Josie's picture but Josie threw her arms up in front of her face and said, "No geography, please!" Grammie: "Don't you mean photography?" Josie: “Whatever.”

My 3 girls had a "sleepover" in Adelaide's bedroom floor. I went in to kiss them goodnight and accidentally stepped on Sadie's leg. She said, "Ohhh! That's my bad hip!" She's 8.

After reminding my two oldest daughters that they need to be nice to their little sister even when she's a pest, Sadie informed me, "But Mom! She keeps persecuting us!"

Josie to Adelaide (in a frustrated voice): "Adelaide! Can you PLEASE talk inside your head?"

Reading Adelaide’s ABC book at bedtime: “Mommy, do not tell me the letters. I can do them. That’s A. That’s B. That’s C. And that one– don’t tell me—that one is 2.”

Josie, upon being told that we were out of milk: “NOOOoooo! Say it isn’t so!” Me: “It’s so.” Josie: “Well, can we make a little memorial for the milk? Like with a little cow and an empty carton?” Me: “I didn’t know you knew the word ‘memorial.” Josie: “Yeah, well, I’m just full of surprises.”

Mom: “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Adelaide: “I want to do it NO way!”

Adelaide, after too much Halloween candy: “Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her Nerds and Milky Way….”

Josie: "Baton Camp makes me feel happy and joyous. And also less grumpy."

I hope your year is less grumpy than last year – and that it’s happy and joyous,
too!

-from my 1/13/13 blogpost for www.mentorpatch.com

Rupert

Adelaide is learning to recite The Twelve Tribes of Israel by singing a song. If you’re a Bible scholar, you know that Jacob’s first son was named Reuben, then Simeon, then Levi, etc. Adelaide couldn’t think of Reuben’s name so she started her song like this: “Rupert, Simeon, Levi, Judah….”

Josie reciting The Lord’s Prayer: “And delete us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

Lub in NC

When we were in NC over Christmas, Jesse discovered that his son is a Human Change Sorter. Jed snagged someone's change and stuck it down his footie-pajamas so that it fell down into his feet... dimes and quarters in the right foot and pennies in the left.

Jed was a very bad sport when he was playing an Indiana Jones game with his cousin Caleb. He wanted to use the spinner and when Caleb was trying to show him the right way to do it, Jed dumped out all the other pieces: Jed is a bad sport

When the three girls spent the night with Cameron and Caleb (they all conked out on sleeping bags in the basement floor), they had a great time - Angela let them have cookies at bedtime, though, and Crazy Cookie Josie went a little overboard, saying, "I'll have this and this and this and THIS. And I thank you!"

I liked watching all of them run down the hill at Angela's house - it was very "Little House on the Prairie-esque." 

We finished reading "The Christmas Barn" while we were on our trip and we all loved it. Sadie let Mamaw have a break from telling her stories and she told Mamaw and Papaw the whole story about the panther on the roof from the book. She remembered every little detail and it was fun to listen to her relate it with such zeal and vocal intonation. 

Adelaide had lots of fun wrestling with Scotty and with Uncle Thomas - and having tickle fights with Papaw.She is a hands-on kid, once she gets to know you. I just love her goofy laugh and the way she scrunches up her little nose - her eyes almost disappear and all you can hear is her silly cackling.

Jed decided that he likes the big water wheel that Papaw made - every time we went over to their house he had to go over check it out while he stood there with his little hands stuck down in the pockets of his camo coat. 

All three of the girls went over to Courtney's house to play when we first got to NC. They had lots of fun over there - they all three just love their long-distance cousin!

Speaking of long-distance cousins, Jed just couldn't get enough of pulling Cameron and/or Caleb this way and that way - wherever he wanted to go. Upstairs, downstairs, on the bunk bed, on the Foof in the basement, on a piggy-back ride... he didn't care, as long as he was goofing off somewhere with his cousins.

After Great Grandma's big 80th birthday bash on Sunday (the girls sang for her in front of everyone... they had a really good time hanging out with the family and helping decorate for the party), Jesse and Grampie Don headed back to Ohio and we headed to the YMCA for Hailey's birthday party. Sadie made a new friend there who seemed to be totally smitten with her. He kept following her around and when I went to sit with them during the birthday cake, he grinned and informed me, "I like root beer and country music and dancing." This is funny, because he was making sure that HE had exactly the same interests that SHE has. When I told her I wasn't sure about when we were going to go home, the little ladies' man piped up, "She can stay all night at my house!" Um... oh no she can't! :)

One morning when Jed woke up, he came to snuggle with me in bed. He was sucking his fingers (as usual) and I said, "Are those fingers good?" He said, "Mm-hmm" stuck his slobbery slimy fingers right in my mouth before I knew what he was doing. He learned to say a lot of things while we were there (as usual): Hoppit rabbit, My turn! Buckle! Let's go! Bye Josh!" He also learned a hilarious little "shuffling soldier" walk from Grampie Don - he takes dozens of little tiny steps close together, then turns and goes the other way.

Josie sang along with Papaw's guitar and then fell asleep on the floor at his house as we listened to him tell stories about when he was little - the two hogs and the umbrella and the barn loft stories - and about how he threw away my wooden clog shoes because he was so mad that they made me fall down. The girls thought that was funny!



Go kart, I know we were better than her

On New Year's Eve, the girls and Cameron and Caleb and Grammie split a bottle of sparkling grape juice. I asked Adelaide what you're supposed to say when you clink glasses (thinking "cheers"). Instead, she raised her glass and said, "Bottoms up!" 

Hailey at cfa, Josie let little boy have it when he hurt Adelaide
We went out to lunch with our "Church cousins" at Tiptons. All of the kid-cousins came along with Heather, Kristi, and Angela. It was fun... Jed sat at the girls' table, though - but he really likes his boy cousins - especially Grayson and Bryce. He does seem to like the "big boys." The girls rode home with Heather and we had some play time over there while she gave me lots of clothes. Yay!

There were lots of fun moments during our trip: dancing with Ada in Great Grandma's living room, sleeping next to Grammie on the floor on a bed made of couch cushions, Josie crashing onto the toilet with her head (okay, THAT wasn't so much fun), Josie learning to play LOTR on the computer with her dad just like Sadie learned last year at Christmas, Adelaide giving her brother the new name of "Jay-ud," Sadie searching for stuff in the yard and in Papaw and Mamaw's yard with the "Dad gum metal detector" that wouldn't detect anything....

And last, but certainly not least... I had one of those moments with Jed that makes all the work of parenting worthwhile. As we snuggled in bed, he reached over and put his soft little hand on my face and kissed my cheek and said, "Lub you."

Lub, lub, lub being a mommy. 

Resolved to be Unresolved

I've decided not to make any New Year's resolutions this year.

I think they might be a bad idea.

My Sadie will be nine in 2013. She only has only one more year until she's into double digits. My Josie will be 8. My Adelaide will be five. And my sweet baby boy will be three.

Three!

I'll be 37. And my husband and I will have our 12th anniversary. Wow.

Time really does fly, doesn't it? Whoever came up with that one wasn't kidding.

So when it comes to resolutions, I've decided that they just don't make sense for me. I can't even live a day or a week or a month at a time, so how can I decide today what's going to be important to me a whole year from now?

Looking back, it's been a rough year. Sickness, death, family problems, social upheaval, depression, health issues, financial problems, political issues, shootings, disasters, accidents, spiritual issues and a myriad of other things seem to have run rampant this past year - not only in my life, but in the lives of many. Maybe even in yours.

Times are hard. Life is hard. Being a mom is hard.

I've heard that what makes you who you are isn't about what happens to you, but about the way you choose to handle what happens to you. That's a huge realization for me.

Sometimes I feel like life is flying past me and I'm not really living it. It's just happening to me.

But if the past year has taught me one thing, it's this: we can only live in the moment. We aren't guaranteed another day. Another hour. Another minute.

And even though life is tough, there are still amazing things happening all around us.

The beauty of the sunset. A child's smile. A sloppy baby kiss on my cheek. A soft little hand in mine. A shared memory. An unexpected "I love you." A true friend. A belly laugh. A stranger holding the door for you. The smell of rain. A favorite song. A warm bed after a long day. A quiet moment.

So my goal (not resolution!) is to choose to have many good, beautiful and peaceful moments this year. To choose to grab onto those moments and really feel them - live them.

Because it's all about our choices, isn't it?

Happy New Year to you - I pray that you have a year full of good moments too.

-from my 1/6/13 blogpost for www.mentorpatch.com

Christmas Memories

This week Sadie suddenly waxed poetic in her 8-year-old way:

“One of my favorite things about Christmas is listening to the oven beeping, because I know that something yummy is baking and it’s almost ready to eat. And I like the way the trees smell. And I like to decorate and use all the sparkly glitter and pretty ribbons.” (She frequently asks the dreaded question: “Hey Mom, where do we keep all the glitter and the glue?")

“And I like the sound of bells and the smell of snow outside. And I like the way Christmastime looks – the dim lights and the lights outside and the way the snow sparkles in the sun.”

Wow. It appeared that she had been giving this list of Christmas favorites a lot of thought.

When she was three, she loved to sing “Have a holly jolly Christmas, have a holly jolly Christmas, have a holly jolly Christmas…”

Those were the only words she knew. She loved to look at Christmas lights and she’d say, “Oh, the lights are be-yoo-tiful!” Once when she saw an especially well-lit house she said, “Hey, look at that house! Those people must really love God!”

Her reminiscing led me to ponder my other kids’ favorites – and my own.

Josie loves the smell of pine trees and apple cider. She likes drinking cocoa, eating pumpkin rolls, sledding, playing with my Russian nesting dolls, and going to see Christmas lights with her Grandma and Grandpa. She loves when we drive all night to NC and she hears the turn signal tick-tick-ticking as we turn in to Great Grandma’s driveway. She likes to sing along to The Little Drummer Boy, Feliz Navidad and Silver Bells. When she was younger, she always said, “Oooh, ahhh” when she saw Christmas lights. She was convinced that Baby Jesus’ earthly parents were named “Mary and Jofus” and that “Frosty the No-man was a jolly happy SO.”

Adelaide loves making Christmas cookies and eating candy canes. She loves opening presents and helping to wrap gifts. She likes leaving cookies out for Santa and carrots for Rudolph and reading Christmas books from the library. She likes seeing Baby Jesus in the manger, going to Journey to Bethlehem, Christmas angels and singing Silent Night. She loves wearing new poofy Christmas dresses and sparkly shoes. This year she said, “Did you guys see that lit-up house? It was just faj-a-lous!” She also likes to sing her own version of the Elves’ song from the Rudolph movie: "Ho ho ho, Ho ho ho, Santa smells himself." Last year she sang “It's the most WONDERFUL time of da YEAR! Of da YEAR!” When her sister told her she was weird, she said, “No, I am not. It IS the most wonderful time. Of da year.”

Jedidiah is thoroughly enjoying this Christmas season. He rode a Christmas Train (“choo choo!”), ignored Santa when given the choice between sitting on his lap and eating a candy cane, and he learned four new words: “So-man!” “What!” “Why?” and “A coo-kie!” He made us laugh this year anytime we were riding together in the car because he likes to point out the window and say, “Ah, wights! Ah, wights!” and (wait for it) “Ahhh! Wights!”

And me? The old Disney's The Sounds of Christmas album is my absolute favorite Christmas-y thing. I listened to it every single Christmas until I was grown up, and now my kids listen to it with me.

On Christmas Eve, I always got new pajamas from my Grandma. I was never sure if I couldn’t sleep those nights because I was so excited or because the new pajamas were itchy.

I remember my mom hanging our little red jingly cuckoo clock bell from the doorframe and my daddy hitting his head on it every time he walked through the hall. I have that bell now, and that tinkling sound still takes me back.

I loved this weird “bird ball” that plugged in to the wall and made a crazy “woop, woop, wooo-ooooop woop woop” sound. When I was six, I was convinced that a tiny (yet very loud) bird actually lived in that little green ball. I always wanted to see what was inside, but I never did. Maybe it was a real bird.

I loved treat bags from my church, finding out what was in my stocking, calling my cousin to swap stories on Christmas morning, and listening to my Grandpa read the second chapter of Luke from the Bible. I loved doing skits with my cousins and staying up late on Christmas Eve and singing songs with my daddy and his guitar. I remember my mom hiding and jumping out to take my picture every Christmas morning and the year we got matching red and white striped footie pajamas WITH a trapdoor in back.

I remember parties and wrapping paper fights and Rudolph and Hermey the Elf and Frosty and acting out The 12 Days of Christmas. I remember looking up in the cold winter sky for the Christmas Star and singing Away in a Manger as I prayed and desperately wished for a southern snow.

And every year, I remember reading my favorite passage from The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson: "But as far as I'm concerned, Mary is always going to look a lot like Imogene Herdman - sort of nervous and bewildered, but ready to clobber anyone who laid a hand on her baby. And the Wise Men are always going to be Leroy and his brothers, bearing ham."

These are some of our Christmas memories. I hope that you hold your Christmas memories safely in your heart – they are truly your very own.

May this holiday season leave you and your family with more precious memories and plentiful blessings for the New Year.

-from my 12/30/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Hedge of Protection

Like every other parent in the country -- or maybe even the world -- I've spent the last week reevaluating.

Crying. Praying. Holding my children close. Breathing them in. Thanking God that they are still here with me.

In moments when I am alone, I find myself with unbidden tears streaming down my face. I don't even realize they are there until they start dripping onto my shirt and then I remember.

I can't stop thinking about it. Even when I don't think that I'm thinking about it, it's still there, niggling away at my subconscious. Those names. Those faces. Those ages. The same age as my sweet Josie.

I ache for those mommies and daddies. Those brothers and sisters and grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends. I keep feeling like I'm going to throw up.

I want to sleep. To forget. To go back in time.

That day, that horrible day, my two oldest girls came and sat with me on my bed and we hugged each other and cried. They are 8 and 7. I can't figure out how to explain to them that we are living in a world where things like this happen.

Someone once said that whenever bad things happen, you should always look for the good. Look for the helpers, because someone will always be there helping. And it's true. There are moments of good in all bad situations. I try to tell them this. I try to remember it myself.

But on the inside I'm thinking, "Is it safe to go to the library? Should we go to the movie theater? Are we safe at the mall? At church? At a Christmas play? Anywhere?"

And I don't know the answer.

A friend of mine told me that her mom used to pray for a hedge of protection around each of her children and for an angel to stand guard at every window and every door. That's seems like such an old-fashioned notion, doesn't it?

You may or may not be a Christian or believe in God, and that's fine. But this past week has just been too much for me to stand. I'll admit that I have fallen to my knees more than once. I always seem to return to the question of "why?" and I guess that's just not for me to know.

We pray for miracles. We hope for them and we cross our fingers and we bargain with God and we wish on stars.

But maybe the miracles are happening all around us. Maybe every single minute that I get to spend with my four babies is a miracle. I never really thought about that before this week.

What if they were gone tomorrow? Did I do enough? Did I hug them tight enough? Did I help them feel special and happy and important? Did they know that they mean EVERYTHING to me? Did I make it clear enough to them?

Probably not. I probably said something like, "Stop whining!" or "Quit being a pest!" or "I can't pick you up right now," or "Shhh, Mommy's on the phone" or "wait until I'm done with my email" or "I'll color with you after I check Facebook" or something else that, in retrospect, is ridiculously stupid.

What is wrong with me? Where are my priorities? What wouldn't these parents give for just one more minute with their precious little babies?

As I check on my children while they sleep (because I can't), check the locks on the doors, check the alarms, and check on my children yet again, I pray that God will help me to appreciate the miracles that are in my life this Christmas. There is no guarantee that they will be here next Christmas - or even tomorrow.

And I'm praying something else, too - an old prayer that's new to me... I'm praying for a hedge of protection around my children, please God, please. And for an angel at every window and every door.

-from my 12/23/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Yes Indeed I'm Laughin'

Sadie to Josie: You are the weirdest person I have ever met.
Josie: Yeah, I know. I try.
Sadie: See, that's just weird.

Adelaide, singing her own version of the Rudolph/Santa song: "Ho ho ho, Ho ho ho, Santa smells himself."

Mommy: Ooh, Jed, aren't those new socks pretty? Can you say pret-ty?
Jed: Uggie.

The Nutcracker

Before last weekend, I’d never been to a real ballet.

And to be honest, I’ve never been that much of a fan. Too long, too boring, too many people, too much traffic… you know what I mean.

I couldn’t understand why people would actually go to see The Nutcracker every single year and make it a holiday tradition.

My two oldest daughters, though – Sadie, age 8 and Josie, age 7 – are big fans. So to kick off the holiday season, my mother-in-law took the three of us to see The Joffrey Ballet’s version at Playhouse Square.

None of us (besides Grandma) had seen The Nutcracker before. The girls donned their new Christmas dresses (they’re always looking for a reason to dress up), and we headed downtown. There were several events going on, so it was really busy and very crowded with other holiday merry-makers.

After we saw the lights at Public Square and the decorations at what used to be Higbee’s, we finally found a parking spot and made our way through the crowds to the theatres.

Once inside, we marveled at the beauty of the State Theatre. Decorated for Christmas and with a gigantic beautiful tree right in the lobby, the theatre immediately evoked festivity and Christmas-y-ness. I began to realize how lucky we are to have such a place (and cultural events like the ballet and The Cleveland Orchestra) nearby.

We pushed our way past the Bavarian pretzels and hot cocoa carts with little time to spare. As we made a desperate last-minute trip to the potty (we didn’t want to miss anything!) and found our seats, the excitement kept building. “Is it time? How much longer? Is it time yet? Did you see that? I think the curtain moved!”

When the lights finally dimmed and we saw the first set, a gorgeous Victorian parlor decorated for Christmas, I realized that this was no ordinary ballet. The scenery was incredible. From the growing candlelit tree to the life-sized white horse to the candy forest, the whole thing was a feast for the eyes.

At certain points, it was almost too beautiful to look at. I know it sounds silly, but I actually found myself having trouble catching my breath.

I was almost unable to believe what I was seeing. If you’ve seen The Nutcracker, or at least a great production of it, you’ll know the part I’m talking about – with the glittering white wood sprites and the waltz of the snowflakes and the swelling music of Tchaikovsky and the snow falling; it literally took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes.

When I was able to tear my eyes away from the stage, though, what I saw was just as beautiful to me. My two girls, not fidgeting, not talking, not whispering or saying that they’re hungry or that they have to go to the bathroom – no, my two girls, staring, wide-eyed, rapt, craning their heads from their little theater-issued booster seats, not wanting to miss a single solitary second. Eyes riveted. Mouths in perfect little O’s.

It was, simply put, magical.

Afterward, I asked what they liked best (I liked the giant teapot and the Chinese Tea Dance.) Josie, without hesitating, said, “I liked it when the nutcracker doll turned into a real guy! Poof! First he’s a doll, then there’s some smoke and he’s a guy! How do they DO that? And then I liked the giant doll lady (Mother Ginger) with all the kids running out from under her skirt!”

Sadie, though, said she couldn’t pick a favorite part. My dreamy-eyed, ballet-loving 8-year-old said, “I loved it all. Every minute of it. Every second.”

Now I understand. It’s really no wonder that people make it a holiday tradition.

Traffic was terrible. Parking was terrible. The crowds were terrible.

But the ballet – the ballet was magnificent.

-from my 12/16/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Mommy Guilt and the Flu

At our house, we are suffering through what will henceforth be (un)affectionately known as The Plague of 2012. And when I say “we,” mostly I mean the two adults in the family.

Chills. Shakes. High fevers. Aches. Pains. Nausea. Swimmy head. Coughs.

Misery.

I can't unwrap a cough drop without my knees knocking, teeth chattering and hands shaking.

My 7-year-old even looked at me in dismay and said, “I’ve never seen you like this before, Mom.”

My husband -- conked out on the bed thanks to some Nyquil -- snored in agreement.

The only thing worse than having the flu is the flu coupled with Mommy Guilt -- which is, for those who do not know, that gnawing feeling that your slacking on your mothering.

For the past two days, my poor children have subsisted on a nutritious diet of animal crackers, water and the occasional e-z-peel tangerine.

I’ve shoved so much extra Vitamin C in my children’s direction that they are probably going to sprout orange boughs out of their ears in the spring.

While I'm too sick to mother, my kids read books to each other. They watch Wild Kratts on the TV and birds at the feeder, make up games, draw pictures, write to their pen pals, keep their baby brother out of trouble,make crafts and do their best to pitch in.

Today, Josie tied her little apron on and made lunch for everyone. I hear their voices through my cracked bedroom door.

Sadie, my 8-year-old, just informed me that she wiped the table, wiped off her brother, put the dishes away, sprayed Lysol on all the doorknobs and cleaned up the kitchen. Now she’s on her way to wash her hands yet again.

They are being so helpful and empathetic that it makes me feel even worse that I haven’t been able to “be there” for them for the past few days.

Thank goodness for Grandma, who braved the noxious germ fumes, closed us in our room, fed the kids and put them to bed for us before vacating the premises.

The other Grammie also visited with reinforcement tissues, juice and chicken noodle soup. She left them at the kitchen door, rang the doorbell and fled before she could be contaminated. I saw her through the window as she jumped back in her car and made a hasty retreat.

Even my sick husband – who grudgingly admits that I’m sicker than he is – has pitched in despite his illness. He checks in on the kids for me from time to time and changes a diaper or two. He brings chicken tortilla soup home for supper, which the children fall on and devour like they are a pack of wolves (wolves that have been eating nothing but animal crackers.)

Meanwhile, I feel like I can't move. And, when I do move, it's in slow motion.

All I want to do is play with my children, read to them, be mom to them.

Tomorrow I’m planning to tear open the shutters and throw up the sashes (which is a heck of a lot better than what I’ve been throwing up, pardon the pun) and exorcise this house of all the germs so we can get on with a happy holiday season.

The flu's got nothing on Mommy Guilt.

from my 12/9/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Just Give Up

Adelaide, "Last night, Mommy came and slept with me for a while on the Fruiton. But I wouldn't quit wiggling, so she left." Josie: "FU-TON." Adelaide: "That's what I said, the FRUITON." Sadie: "Just give up."

Josie, singing the 12 Tribes of Israel:
Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issacher, Zebulon, Dad, and... Dad? DAD?"
Sadie: "These are the sons of Jacob!"

Josie: "OW! I fell and now my butt hurts!"
Sadie: "Well, now there are TWO ways that you are a pain in the butt."

Hamster Thanksgiving

The ridiculousness that is my life never ceases to amaze me.

Picture it: It’s the day before Thanksgiving. Adelaide is playing with a ZhuZhu pet – a fuzzy little brown hamster with wheeled battery-powered feet. She’s holding him and letting him run around on the floor, over the couch, up my leg and (I should’ve seen it coming) onto my head.

The hamster is running.

The wheels are turning, and they are turning fast.

His little wheeled feet wrap my curly frizzy hair around them 30 times in 3 seconds. That hamster winches himself down flat against my head before I even know what has happened.

Do you understand what I am saying? I have a hamster attached to my head.

The little sucker is not about to come off. He is hopelessly entangled right on top of my head.

I scream. Then I cry (yes, I know, I’m an adult, but it hurts!) Adelaide and Jedidiah point at me and laugh. I send them to their rooms. I know I have to think fast, and having a four-year-old and a two-year-old laughing and pointing at me doesn’t help my ability to concentrate.

Now I’m alone in my predicament and I try to assess the situation. Not only is the constant pressure slowly yanking my hair out by the roots, but the battery compartment is stuck down so tight against my scalp that I can’t pull it away even the tiniest fraction of an inch (which would probably be enough to turn the thing off.) So not only is it yanking my hair out, it’s getting hotter and hotter by the minute because the battery is still engaged.

I consider my options.

If I yank it out, I’ll have a bald spot on top of my head.

If I cut it loose, I’ll have a sticky-up cowlick for months.

I can’t break his feet off because they are too close to my head.

The reality seems to be that I have a smoldering rodent permanently ensnarled in my hair.

I look in the mirror. I can’t help but laugh. I’m crying and laughing at the same time because a) it hurts, and b) I look absolutely absurd. I look like a crazed serial killer. Apparently, head vermin make you go insane fairly quickly.

I don’t know what else to do. I give up and call in the cavalry (to wit, my husband.) He can barely understand what I’m telling him through my hysterical sobbing and maniacal laughter. All he hears on his cell phone is “hair,” “hamster,” “help,” “hurts!” and “ridiculous.”

Yes, my husband actually has to come home from work and save me from a hamster.

He calms me down (somehow he does it without laughing) and sets to work on my head with several kinds of pliers and a screwdriver.

My hero dismembers and guts the offending rodent of its batteries. It proudly holds onto its trophy, though: a big hairball around one little wheeled leg.

Only I, who already have pretty much every weird phobia in the world, could be attacked and subdued by a ZhuZhu pet.

Look out, folks: It’s a Hamster Holiday.

from my 12-2-12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Unanswered Prayers

There’s a Garth Brooks song that says “some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.” It took a lot of growing up for me to really understand these words of wisdom, but now I think I finally get it.

I’m thankful that I’m an only child. If I had siblings, I probably wouldn’t be nearly as close to my cousins.

I’m thankful for all the times that my daddy said no when I asked permission to do something – he saved me from a lot of danger, heartache and tears. All of those no’s meant that he loved me – that he cared.

I’m thankful that my parents divorced. If they hadn’t, I never would have known my stepmom or my stepdad and my kids would have missed out on two wonderful grandparents.

I’m thankful that I didn’t marry my high school boyfriend, because I wouldn’t have ended up with the husband and the children that I love more than anything.

I’m thankful that I had relationships with some real jerks who treated me terribly (and some crazy people who scared me) because now I know what I “missed out on.” Without those people, I would never be able to truly appreciate my husband.

I’m thankful for my crazy, frizzy, unmanageable, curly hair. It’s part of my personality and it means that I haven’t lost it due to some terrible illness.

I’m thankful that I didn’t get the promotion I desperately wanted when I was still working – if I had climbed further up the corporate ladder, I probably would never have become a stay-at-home mom.

I’m thankful that our bid wasn’t accepted on a house that we loved – in hindsight, it would’ve been a horrible mistake to buy that house. The payment would’ve been more than we could have afforded and we would have been under tremendous financial strain.

I’m thankful that we packed up and moved away from all of my family and friends – if we hadn’t, I never would have met and grown close to all of the wonderful people that have become part of my support network. I’m thankful that I cried every day for months because I was so homesick – now when I visit, I truly appreciate the loved ones that I don't get to see often enough.

I’m thankful that we lived with my in-laws for a year and a half. It was really hard not having my own house for that long, but we forged a "Walton-esque" bond that would never have been as strong otherwise.

I’m thankful that it took so long for us to find a house – it taught me patience and it taught me to trust my husband’s instincts. Eventually, we found the house that was perfect for us and in our price range.

I’m thankful for all of the times that my heart has been broken – either by someone else or because of my own foolishness. I’ve learned from my mistakes.

I’m thankful for stretch marks and leftover baby weight and memories of morning sickness – they mean that I had the blessing of growing four beautiful human beings right underneath my heart.

I’m thankful that I don’t have a new car – it means that I don’t have to worry about a car payment and that I don’t stress about one of my children spilling something on the seats.

I’m thankful for the tears that I’ve cried, the chronic back pain that I have and the injuries that I’ve suffered. They’ve shaped me into someone who is empathetic to others.

I’m thankful for being lied to and used and hurt – those times have taught me who I can trust.

I’m thankful that sometimes the power goes out and that sometimes money is tight. These things remind me that in reality, the only things that are real necessities are the people that I love.

I’m thankful for a tired body and for the circles under my eyes. They mean that I have precious peaceful moments in the middle of the night when I can hold my children in my arms.

I’m thankful for all of the broken glasses, grape-juice stained shirts, and markers on the walls. They have taught me that things are just things and they can be replaced.

No, maybe what we think is best isn’t best for us at all. Though usually it’s very hard to see at the moment you’re asking, sometimes no really is better than yes.

Thank You, God, for all of the times that You've answered my prayers with a “no.”

from my 11-25-12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Thankful for Funnies

Adelaide and I were reading Goodnight Moon. She had a hair stuck to her lip and kept trying to get it off. When we got to page 3 she read, "And there were three little hairs sitting on chairs." Then she CRACKED herself up.

On Thanksgiving night, we were watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade together when she and Jesse got home from Beth and Roy's (Sadie and Josie stayed the night and Jed and I came home early). She snuggled in next to me and said, "Oh, you are warm and toasty. You are as cozy as a warthog!" Then she said, "Hey! That giant balloon is Hermit the Frog!" She's saying funny stuff so fast I can barely keep up with her!

Later when we said prayers, she thanked God for all of her body parts, all of her family, her bed, the bookshelf, windows, hair, and "thank you God, for all the things that are funny. Amen."

Be assertive

A friend of ours from church sent us this really cool song called "God and Dog" about the similarities between God's love and your dog's love. It honestly almost made me cry AND it even made me like Roscoe better too. Well, Josie, taking after her father and her Weird Al penchant, took the part of the song that says "I look up and I see God, I look down and see my dog...." sang her own version: "I look up and see a bird, I look down and see a turd." Great.

A few weeks ago Sadie wanted some fish from Long John Silvers but all of the kids were in the car and I told her she would have to go in by herself while I watched her through the window from the car. I've been trying to teach them to look people in the eyes and to be assertive. Not rude or demanding, just assertive. I told her to say, "Hello, I would like some fish please!" She and Josie cracked the heck up and now every time I tell them to be assertive, they talk in a funny accent and say realllly loudly, "HELLO, MY NAME IS SADIE! MAY I HAVE SOME FISH PLEASE!?"

I was cleaning the bathroom upstairs and I was holding Snoopy in my other hand. When Sadie walked by and saw me, she said, "Hey! Nobody puts Snoopy in a toilet!" Right. And nobody puts Baby in a corner either.

Jedidiah has started turning his little hands palms up and humming the "I don't know" sound. It's so cute when I ask him something - he looks around and says "I don't know."

Thankful that I'm a Mom

I’m an only child.

So when I had my second child, I naturally assumed that she would be just like my first. Little did I know that they would be complete opposites.

It turns out that all four of them are as different from each other as morning, noon, night and naptime.

It’s humbling to think that out of all of the other moms in the world, God chose me – me – to be their mother. Me, with the not-so-idyllic past. Me, with the back problems and the weird propensity for popping my bones out of joint. Me, with the strange fears and the ridiculous built-in klutziness factor. Me.

Shouldn’t they have gone to someone better? Someone more capable?

Yet even when it’s a rough day (and we’ve been having a lot of those lately) I am still thankful that they are mine. Even when they are driving me completely crazy, they have an uncanny ability to keep me smiling.

They constantly amaze me with their own unique personalities.

Sadie has the most amazing memory that I’ve ever encountered. She remembers things from when she was only two, and usually it’s stuff that even I’ve forgotten about. She has a gentle spirit and a kind heart, and she longs for beauty in everything she sees. She loves to decorate, dance, hear the stories that her grandparents tell, plan parties, make floral arrangements, paint and read. Watching her grow from my first-born baby into a sweet young lady is such a privilege for me and I am so proud of her.

Josie lives life more than anyone else I know. She feels things deeply. Certain movies, songs, stories, events and even memories pull at her heartstrings and her feelings (happy or sad) often come out as tears. She’s an optimist; she always sees the bright side of things. She loves making new friends, drawing, making people laugh and figuring out puzzles. She wants to change the world and help little kids by raising money to help dig wells in third-world countries. Knowing Josie – and the beautiful light that seems to shine from her – I’m sure that she’ll do it.

Adelaide is a natural drama queen. She loves to memorize and recite stories, poems and Bible verses. She likes to dress up and stay “in character” for days at a time. She loves to play games, talk in funny voices, watch movies and use her imagination. She believes that everything is magical and she has the ability to find something fun in just about any situation. She’s incredibly strong-willed, which I know is a quality that will serve her well later in life. She’s happy when she’s with her family. When she hugs me at bedtime, she likes to whisper, “I’ll never let go.” I hope that she doesn’t.

Jedidiah has such a sweet and happy disposition. He always wakes up ready to face the day with a chubby-cheeked smile. It’s like he knows that something wonderful is going to be waiting for him around every corner. He’s always in a hurry, running here and there to make sure that isn’t going to miss anything interesting. He wants to touch, taste, hear, see, smell and experience everything in the world. He loves to dump things out, tear things up and generally wreak havoc. He is curious, smart, funny and oh-so-squeezable. If I could keep him just like this forever, I’d do it in a minute – crazy messes and all.

I can’t say that I haven’t made my more than my fair share of mistakes. I have.

Looking at my children not only makes me feel a sense of accomplishment, as if I may actually be doing something right, but also a sense of wonder. They aren’t doing this well because of me, but in spite of my mistakes. The people they are becoming – no, the people they already are – are teaching me more about life and beauty and love and joy than I’ve ever known.

Learning to be a mother was – is – the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

But, during this week of Thanksgiving, I am so thankful that I’ve been given the chance.

-From my 11/18/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Halloweened Out

I am completely Halloweened out. With the storm, losing electricity and all of the rescheduling due to bad weather, it seemed like “Halloween season” was interminable this year.

My girls even got tired of wearing their costumes, if that tells you anything.

We went to a local church’s festival one week and to the mall trick-or-treat event the next.

We went to Halloween Story Time at the Library. We watched “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” and “FrankenPooh.”

Then I decided that I hadn’t suffered enough so I threw a big Harvest Party on the last day of October. Our power had JUST come back on after the hurricane, so I looked inadvertently scary to the neighborhood children – I wasn’t really in costume but I did bear a close resemblance to a sleep-deprived zombie. There were some close calls involving our homemade piñata stick and our pumpkin bowling game, and one of the little boys looked at my hand-drawn pin-the-crow-on-the-scarecrow poster and said, “What is that?” But nevertheless, it was a fun party.

Last but not least, we participated in our neighborhood’s regular trick or treating this past weekend. It was pretty cold and Jedidiah had decided he was done being Yoda so I ended up taking him home. I bundled him into the car and we drove around the neighborhood until we spotted his dad and sisters so we could give them a ride home (it’s hard to walk in Queen Amidala’s shoes.) The girls could barely haul their candy bags into the car. It turns out that the generous people in our neighborhood gave out full-sized candy bars! Full-sized! I don’t remember ever getting a full-sized candy bar when I went trick-or-treating as a kid.

Through it all, there have been gobs of leaves, broken branches, a couple of rotting pumpkins (remember all of the warm days we had a couple of weeks ago?), some scarecrows, a little witch, a squishy muddy pond, a downed light pole, a giant capsized tree, some questionable power lines and who knows what else lying around in our yard.

Inside, there’s a dangling skeleton (we usually use it to learn about bones when we’re talking about science) and seven pumpkins, including two fake pumpkins and various and sundry gourds. Light sabers are now a fixture behind our kitchen door, right next to the umbrellas.

A gigantic pile of Halloween props has taken up permanent residence in my bedroom closet. There’s a Darth Vader helmet, a cane, three headpieces, four candy bags, two pairs of fuzzy boots, several capes, clip-on earrings, green paint, Ewok ears and who knows what else.

It looks like a candy bomb has exploded in our house. Candy is EVERYWHERE. Even though the girls have their own individual trick-or-treat bags in their rooms, pieces of candy are in the kitchen, in the pantry, on the stairs, in coat pockets, in the car – EVERYWHERE.

Every five minutes (and I am not exaggerating) Jedidiah comes to me holding up a new sucker or a roll of Smarties that he has found squirreled away in someone’s stockpile. He begs me to open it, doing the cute little bendy-kneed “candy-dance.” This is inevitably closely followed by the “fall-in-the-floor-and-scream-because-you-can’t-have-it-dance.”

Let’s just say that Mommy is tired of both dances.

The pumpkins? To the compost pile!

The scarecrows? I say we just put some aprons and shoe buckles on them and call them pilgrims.

The candy? I want to throw it all in the trash and hide. And also brush my teeth.

I have never been so ready for Thanksgiving – and one thing I’m thankful for is that we are finally done with Halloween.

from my 11/11/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Mommy Brain

I’ve always thought of myself as a fairly smart person.

I made straight A's in school (well, except for Algebra). I graduated early from college.

I like to learn. I like to read. I like useless information. I like watching biographies. I like taking IQ tests (or any test, really).

But lately I feel like I have nothing to contribute.

As far as having a grown up conversation, that is. I mean, what do I have say?

Jed’s poop was kind of green today.

Adelaide used the self-checkout at the grocery store today.

Sadie learned the word “collinear” today.

Josie figured out how to make paper airplanes today.

I made a bushel’s worth of applesauce today.

Not the greatest topics for a cocktail party (not that I ever go to cocktail parties). I know that I am blessed to have the opportunity to stay home with my children; I know some moms can't or don't choose to, but I love being a stay at home mom. I love being a homeschooling mom. But I kind of feel like I’m getting dumber and dumber. Am I the only one who feels this way? Am I the only one who puts the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the refrigerator? Am I the only mom who runs a complete cycle through a completely empty washing machine?

For almost 20 years, I worked either in an office, at a school or in retail. Staying home has been a total identity change for me. I no longer have to get dressed up to go to the office. I don’t have to get dressed, period. As a matter of fact, I’m writing this while I’m wearing my PJs and it’s 4:00 in the afternoon.

I knew that staying home would have different types of challenges and rewards. I was prepared for that. But I’m not sure I was prepared for all the potty talk, the toddler’s constant eating of acorns or the interminable craft projects.

And I don’t think I was really prepared for my own brain turning to mush, or for the judgment I sometimes encounter when I venture into the outside world (outside my house, that is).

Sometimes there seems to be a public perception of stay at home moms… maybe a subconscious stigma that we are “uneducated” and we “have no drive” or maybe we have a lower IQ.

A lot of times when I meet people and they learn that I am JUST a stay at home mom, they seem to write me off as someone who has nothing to contribute to the conversation. And sometimes, maybe I don’t.

But if I do speak up and I happen to remember some of my “big words,” they are shocked. It’s like they’ve suddenly run across a chicken who can speak French.

Sometimes I feel like I should introduce myself like this: “I’m a stay at home mom now, but I USED to work in merchandising for a Fortune 100 company.”

Has my career change (and yes, I consider myself as a professional mother now) really reduced my IQ?

Do people think that because I’ve chosen to stay home that something must be wrong with me? Or that my brain just isn’t working right anymore?

Maybe it isn’t. Maybe my IQ is lower. But I still want to stay home with my kids – even if it means sacrificing some more of my brain cells for the next few years.

If you aren’t busy, though, perhaps I could I interest you in some intriguing anecdotes about a diaper, some acorns, a plunger and a roll of scotch tape.

--from my 11/4/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com