Sunday Shorts - Taking Instruction

We all know mothers have a tough job.  Although fathers, grandparents, teachers, friends, and family are all pitching in to help out, mothers tend to take the entire burden of child rearing and child care upon themselves.  They worry about their children's health, well-being, and futures while reading as many parenting and child care books as they can get their hands on.  They talk to their fellow mothers to commiserate and seek out solutions to parenting problems.  Sound familiar?

It's a good thing - this knowledge-seeking.  It means one is not content with where she is at and is searching for instruction to help her improve.  I myself have quite a few of these instruction manuals loaded onto my Kindle, with names like The Power of a Positive Mom and Raising a G-Rated Family in an X-Rated World.  The wisdom in these books is powerful and certainly motivating.  But the true instruction manual for life - the go-to book for mothers - is the Bible.  Specifically, books in the Bible like Proverbs tell us to "seek wisdom", to "get understanding", to "attend to wisdom", to "bind it" to our hearts, to "desire wisdom", and to "love instruction."

Here's my Scripture for today:  "Whoso loveth instruction loveth knowledge: but he that hateth reproof is brutish."  I am reminded that God gives us mothers instruction in many ways (like the parenting books mentioned previously).  But sometimes, he uses another person, most likely older and wiser in the ways of mothering, to gently rebuke us or give us "constructive criticism" to get us back on the right path.

I received such correction this weekend.  It was needed - it was kind.  It was from God, and I would be foolish not to listen and heed it. 

What about you?  Are you "loving wisdom" enough to receive it and act upon it?  Are you willing to let go of pride and preconceived ideas to let the LORD work in you as a mother?

"Reprove not a scorner, lest he hate thee:  rebuke a wise man, and he will love thee." Proverbs 9:8

Teaching to Reach Their Hearts

"You need to treat your brother with kindness."

"God wants us to be cheerful even when we don't get our way."

"We should read our Bibles daily." 

"We go to church every week to learn more about God and to worship Him."

"A soft answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger."

I have said all of these things to my children.  Multiple times, in fact. Sometimes I have said them in utmost sincerity, intentionally teaching and training.  Other times, I admit, I've said them rotely, hardly thinking of what I am saying or the full impact of the words on my children's sensitive hearts and minds.  The teacher in me almost automatically grasps every teachable moment of the day and tries to take advantage of these moments to instill more truth in my children.   

Here's the thing:  all these truths are not the multiplication tables or a list of Spanish vocabulary words.  I cannot say them over and over again, hoping that if I hammer them into my children's minds enough times, they will somehow overflow into my children's hearts and transform them.  If I want to reach their hearts, I have to teach in such a way that will accomplish that goal. 

Our youth pastor spoke to the main congregation last night on the topic of "Teaching the Next Generation."  His fourth point directly addressed what I am talking about here : "You must teach to reach the heart."  He talked about conformity versus tranformation.  A Christian young person can do all the right things and appear to live for God until suddenly, when he graduates from high school, he turns away from God and church.  He has only conformed, for the parents and teachers and pastors in his life have never been able to "teach to reach his heart."  I thought about this, in particular with my children, and thought that if I can just reach their hearts, I can keep their hearts.

After we got home from church and got the children settled in their beds, I felt the need to write down ways I can "teach to reach the hearts" of my children.

1.  I need to spend time with each of my children individually, getting to know them and their interests.  This might mean a lot of Spiderman or trains, but every time I show them that I am open and listening to them, I hope their hearts get a little more tender to listening to God and the Holy Spirit. 

2.  I need to communicate with them often throughout the day and make sure that the bulk of that communication is positive and uplifting.  I would like them to be able to see grace, mercy, and love in me that they might be able to then experience the amazing grace, incredible mercy, and undeserved love of Christ our Lord.

3.  I need to keep my relationship with my Savior fresh and close.  My children need to see me not only immersed in God's Word daily, but also see me seek out God's guidance in situations throughout the day as well as thank and praise Him for all of His blessings too.  The instant I start to let that relationship slide, my children will know, because they will have a mother that is moody, unreasonable, and not Spirit-filled. 

4.  I need to be honest and open with my children.  When I make a mistake, I need to admit it and ask for forgiveness.  My children need to know that I am not perfect and especially that I am not God.  I am teaching them to obey me, but ultimately I want them to learn to obey God and follow His will for their lives.  I pray that someday they will do the right thing not because they fear disappointing me, but because they desire to please Him. 

5.  I need to avoid hypocritical behavior.  I can't tell my children one thing and model something else.  For example, I am pretty restrictive about what my children can watch on Netflix.  If they express a desire to see a forbidden show or movie, I take the time to explain that the language, attitudes, world view, etc. are not God-honoring and therefore not worth our time.  Then, later after the kids go to bed, if I spend time watching shows that have those very elements in them, I am sending a different message to my children.  I am telling them that the things I say and much more importantly, the things God says, are not that important.  Proverbs 23:26 says, "My son, give me thine heart, and let thine eyes observe my ways." 

I will be the first to admit that when I look at my list, apprehension, a sense of nervousness, and plain old fear are quick to crowd themselves to the front of my mind.  What if I mess up?  What if I get lazy and forget to be actively instilling these truths in my children? 

Fear and worry do not come from God.  He dispells those emotions with His words of comfort: "Peace be still.  I am with you."  It isn't me - it's Him.  He put these children in my life so that I could take them and point them back to Him.  With His help, I can do this monumental task, that of teaching to reach all the way to their hearts. 

"Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD:  and the fruit of the womb is his reward.  As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth.  Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them;  they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate."  Psalm 127:3-5

Six Months - Yes, Really

Little Sprout is officially half a year old today!  Our sweet girl is amazing me every day with her newfound skills and happy spirit.

 This month, the girl decided to speed things up and mastered the art of sitting up independently, crawling, and pulling herself to a precarious standing position in her crib, all within the space of two weeks.  

 The siblings are starting to realize that they had better put away their stuff or baby sister might get a hold of it and destroy it!  Little Sprout loves demolishing pancakes, bread slices, crackers, and pretty much any food she can get her hands on.

 She has some favorite toys now - this IKEA bear being one of them.  She also has a yellow Toad (of Super Mario fame) that the Nerd gave her way back at Christmas.  She loves that thing - slobbery legs and arms are evidence of that.  Little Sprout is also becoming quite attached to a certain animal-print blanket.  Of course, it is a thick, fleecy blanket - so perfect for summertime.

This is the face of a definite mama's girl.  She loves her daddy and grandparents too, but if I am in the room, she wants me.  Unfortunately, breast feeding has become a bit of an issue this month.  She still loves nursing and hates bottles, but at the beginning of this past month, she decided she didn't like one of my breasts and chose to only nurse on one side.  I've tried hard to keep my milk supply up, but I can tell it is quickly diminishing.  I think it will soon be time to wean, but stubborn baby girl hates bottles and refuses to take them.  Anyone have any good ideas on going from breast to bottle?  My other kiddos never had any trouble with it, although this is the longest I have ever been able to nurse one of my children.  

Ah, my heart aches as I look at these pictures, knowing how fast they grow up!  I will try to hold fast to the moment today...

Boys Are Stupid

(disclaimer:  some potty words are used in the following post as well as the word stupid, which is just a bad as a potty word in our house.  you have been warned.)

Boys.  Before I ever had the privilege of being a momma to my children and in particular my two boys, I was a junior-high teacher.  I remember insects being put in the microwave, daring stunts performed without a thought or care to the danger of it all, and senseless destruction of books, papers, and pretty much anything those junior high boys could get their hands on.  I remember asking "Why?", "Why on earth?" and any other version of "Why?" you can think of.  Staring at their blank faces, I realized that they themselves had no idea why they were doing what they were doing, other than to drive their parents and myself to an early grave.  I formulated a theory that when puberty hit, so did stupidity.  It couldn't be helped.  Junior high girls were emotional and irrational;  junior high boys were stupid.

I thought that period of my life was over.  At least, until my boys hit that age, anyway.  But certain little "why?"s have been creeping their way into my daily dialogue lately:

"But why did you poop all over the laundry room floor?  The bathroom is right down the hall!!!  You had to have deliberately gone into the laundry room instead!  Why???????????????"

"Please tell me why you thought it was a good idea to rip every page out of your favorite book.  Are you seriously going to stand there and cry when I tell you that I can't read it to you tonight?  Why??????"

"What is that in your hand?  How did you get that water bottle when you are supposed to buckled in your booster seat?  And what is that pale yellow liquid in the bottle?  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh never mind......why??????????"

"I thought I just tightened up the waistband on those shorts.  Why do you keep tugging them up like that?  OH! I see you forgot to put on underwear today....oh, you didn't want to wear underwear today?  Why??????????"

"And what is that at the bottom of your shorts?  Who did that?  Where did you get a hold of a pair of scissors?  And why on earth would you cut up the hem of a perfectly good pair of shorts?  Why?????"

(said outside the men's bathroom at church)  "Hey buddy, are you done yet?  Hurry up, Momma's waiting and we need to get back to the service."  (I grab a passing man and ask him to go in and check on my son.  Yes, he is still alive.  No, he has no clothes on.)  "Come on, hurry and put your pants back on and come out, please."  (child comes out.  naked.  )  "Ooooookay then, let's hurry and get dressed.  Why did you take off all your clothes?"  (and why are so many people already out of the service and walking by while I dress my kid?????)  "Why??????"

I am quite sure that they don't know why.  It could be a part of some big conspiracy theory, which I would not put past the Spud.  But obviously focusing on the "why?"s of it all doesn't help the situation.

So I have come up with a long-term solution.  I am going to keep track of every single "why?" moment I have with these precious young men.  Someday, they are going to come to me with reasons why I should trust them to have a cell phone, go somewhere with their friends, or (gasp!!) drive.  It is then I will pull out my long list of "why?"s to demonstrate why not. 

After all, those junior high boys that fried a grasshopper in the microwave are now grown men, some married and even with children.  I'll consider this post a sort of public service announcement to girls everywhere.  Boys are stupid.  It's us that helps even it out, balance out the stupidity if you will. 

P.S.  I adore my silly boys.  I don't understand their shenanigans half the time, but boy do those guys have a firm grasp on my heart!

Potpourri of the Week #2

As usual my brain has been jumping all over the place this week and most likely driving my husband crazy. Potpourri of the Week is an opportunity for me to share with you where my brain has been - websites, blogs, books, outerspace, etc.  So let's get started....

1.  First up, I downloaded yet another free book to my Kindle with plans to read it in, oh say the next five years.  I realized that I have over 300 books now on there!  While skimming through the titles, I found Raising Kids With Love and Limits by Julie Barnhill.  A certain little someone has been making me question every "method" and "tactic" I have in my parenting arsenal lately; so I dug into this book.  So far, it has been - funny, heartwarming, useful, blunt, and convicting.  The honesty is refreshing.  I love this quote:  "So how to explain feeling (dare I admit, even looking) like a complete moron while standing in the middle of Target and trying to coerce a kid smaller than the circumference of our right thigh to listen and obey when we say no?"  For mommas of young ones who are constantly overthinking their parenting skills, I highly recommend this book.  And I've not even finished it yet!

2.  Next, along the same lines as it seems my brain (and heart!) have been consumed with mommyhood lately, I happened across this thought-provoking post by Rachel at Finding Joy.  "Where Did the Delight Go?" is a challenge to mothers everywhere to get back to enjoying their children instead of just viewing them as more work.  I don't think any of us consciously would label our children as work, but it is incredibly easy to get caught up in all the doing that children cause - laundry, messes, discipline, teaching, feeding, etc.  It becomes humdrum and ordinary and sometimes can make us resentful of the ones we were once so excited to mother and nuture.  But, Rachel says it a whole lot better than I do; so go check out her post.  I promise it's worth the read. 

3.  It has been over a month since our family embarked on the Feingold Elimination Diet.  Since then, I have been researching and studying food dyes, artificial flavors, and the preservatives that mess with my autistic child's brain and cause him to have such terrible meltdowns and space-outs.  The more information I uncover, the more I am appalled and ashamed that I allowed all of my children to ingest these terrible things for so long.  I am thankful in a way that my son's issues forced us to consider this radical change to our diet, because quite honestly I don't think I would have done the research otherwise.  Even if the elimination of petroleum food dyes and artificial flavors had not made a significant difference in the Beast's behavior, we cannot turn back now.  I cannot give these poisons to my kids, knowing what I know now.  Blogger Rebecca at Die, Food Dye devotes her energy to informing the public about these dangerous chemicals in hopes of making a change in America.  Read her recent post on who's doing it right and who's not in the food and medical industry.  I guarantee it will stop and make you think. 

4.  As always, I like to end on a light-hearted, not-so-much-deep-thinking note.  This post had me laughing hysterically yesterday.  The author's story and pictures resonated with me, as I have experienced something very similar with my boys.  I will warn you that there are potty words and anatomy words involved;  so if that kind of thing makes you uncomfortable or nervous, skip this one.  Otherwise, read on, and may I recommend not reading it at work or lunch or anyplace you may  be liable to distract everyone with your loud giggling. 

Carry on, everyone!  Have a great weekend!

Reminder Walls

A couple of weeks ago, I was having a very stressful day.  The Spud was pushing every boundary and being pretty obnoxious.  Simple chores were taking three times as long as usual to complete as the Drama Queen sighed and groaned her way through homeschool that morning.  The Beast had already been disciplined twice that day for getting into things he shouldn't have.  Then, right before I packed up all the kids and their stuff to take them to Grandma's for the night (oh glorious day!) I went downstairs and discovered this masterpiece spanning the entire wall in the kids' room.  I turned and saw that the same artist had drawn on every door, every cabinet, the toilet, the shower, the laundry room furniture, and every wall in between. 

I freaked out.  I said a lot of angry words, demanded to know where the instrument of destruction was, was annoyed that yet another thing had disrupted my day.  I looked at the magnitude of the mess, thought of the fact that we rent, not own this place, and panicked.  When the Beast confessed that he had been the one wielding the marker, I lit into him, reminding him that this was not our house and that we take care of things in the house and that this was going to take forever to clean up.  He found the marker for me, and to my great relief, I saw that it was a dry-erase marker and not a
Sharpie, as I had originally thought.  I muttered loudly to myself that "this was the last straw" and "you better feel grateful that I'm still letting you go to Grandma's today." 

Later on, I got out a bucket of soapy water and a sponge and started scrubbing.  It quickly became apparent that although the marker was not permanent, it was going to take a lot of time and elbow grease to clean it up.  I spent a good two hours on it, making little headway down the wall.  I worked on it the next day and tried to have the kids help me.  Now, two weeks later, there are still marks on the wall.  Although they are faded, they are certainly still visible, reminders of what transpired that day, reminders that a mom lost control and said angry and hurtful things.

It's been two weeks, but those words have not been erased or forgotten.  Yes, they have faded somewhat in the midst of the "I love you"s and the bedtime stories and the hugs and the kisses.  Still, the thoughtless words and negative reactions have left an indelible print in my child.  The faded marks on the wall stand as a solemn reminder of how much influence my words have on my children.

I still haven't figured out how to get it all off the wall.  Even my "magic eraser" has failed me this time.  Most likely we will have to paint over it.  In like fashion, I have had to "paint over" my lack of kindness and self-control with the Beast by asking his forgiveness and asking God to forgive me as well.  Colossians 4:6 tells me to "Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man."

I am not a perfect mom and never will be.  But I can tell you this - those marked-up walls have served as an admonition to me to watch my words and my attitude as I work with my children every day. 

Baby Circus

Anyone else in the baby circus mode of their life???

You know what I mean. The baby needs a little entertainment - so you put her on her activity mat while she happily bangs away at the dangling toys and babbles nonsense to the world around her.

For ten minutes.

Then she fusses like a nagging wife until you move her to another place of entertainment - the exersaucer. Unsteadily propped up with towels, she wobbles from one shiny plastic object to another and beebops to a twangy version of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

For eight minutes.

Then the dancing quickly turns to tantrum tears and an "I-am-so-done-with-this" face. So you lift her up, cuddle her for a few minutes, and then put her in the Bumbo seat in a place where she can watch you do something exciting, like folding laundry or washing dishes. She stares at you with a half-interested look on her face and stays calm.

For about six minutes.

Then the sobbing and the attempts to twist herself right out of the chair begin. You soothe and comfort as best you can until another offspring shouts from the bathroom that he may or may not have plugged up the toilet again. You hurriedly tuck her into her swing, turn it up on high, shove the pacifier in her mouth, and try to tiptoe away to handle the bathroom fiasco. She fusses but falls asleep with her head turned at a strangely unnatural angle.

For about thirty minutes.

And then the three-ring circus starts all over again. Same acts, slightly-more-weary mother every time.

I should sell tickets to this kind of entertainment.

Bed Ninja

I don't pretend to be talented at many things. My skills as a housekeeper leave a lot to be desired. I have never been able to complete a cartwheel successfully. I'm terrible at video games - my three-year-old can beat me every time. I have no balance whatsoever, and it took me a long time to be comfortable as a driver. True story.

However, I do have one skill that I have mastered quite well. I began practicing this talent way back when our first offspring made her appearance into our lives. I can confidently say I am now a master at the art of bed ninja.

Being a bed ninja definitely takes practice, a lot of finesse, and hopefully a bed that doesn't squeak too much. It is helpful to do practice bed ninja runs during the day when the moves are not as critical. At nighttime, though, being a bed ninja is absolutely crucial to getting any sort of sleep whatsoever.

You must begin using your bed ninja skills immediately after you have fed the baby. Gently burp the baby if necessary and watch for eye movement. If her eyes even flutter in the slightest, hold her close, wrapped in a warm blanket, while you plot your path back to the crib or bassinette. Carefully ease yourself off the bed and walk heel-toe to the place of baby sleeping. No tiptoeing - it always ends up in tripping or awkward squeaking. The next move is difficult to explain, but I am sure many of you are talented pros at it. You must lower the baby into the crib while simultaneously wrap her in a warm blanket. When baby is lying comfortably asleep in the crib, strategically position the pacifier on the mattress close to her head and walk quietly back to bed.

Now comes the tricky part. You must get back into your own bed, settle yourself comfortably under the sheets, and do all of this without making a sound. I know this because the slightest bed squeak or rustle will immediately awaken my precious sleeping cherub. And once awake, she will howl loud enough to raise the dead. In fact, the other night the Nerd used his decibel reader on his phone (I told you he was a nerd!) while she was screaming, and our little vocalist clocked in at 102 decibels! But I digress - I only share this information to help you realize how vital bed ninja skills are in this house.

I would guess it takes me about five minutes to silently slip under the covers, adjust my pillow and blanket, and let out the breath I've been holding for that long. It takes another five minutes while I lie still as can be, waiting to be sure I did not disturb the Princess of the Night.

Sometimes being a bed ninja requires other, more advanced movements. These may be needed when I get up to put the baby in her bed and return to find the Nerd has filled the vaccuum left by myself. It is very tricky to move a large sleeping man without making any noise and without strangling him, as I am often tempted to do in my delirious, sleep-deprived state. I also have to employ the stop-snoring-right-now technique when the Nerd decides to let the entire world know that he (not his wife!) is getting plenty of rest that night.

The one bed ninja skill I have yet to learn is dealing with small, extremely noisy children that come bursting through the bedroom door demanding water or another blanket or some other such thing. Despite flying up out of bed in an admittedly awesome kung fu move to stop them, I have never been quite fast enough to keep them from waking the baby.

Okay, I'm done bragging now. I'm sure all of you mamas out there have some great bed ninja moves of your own, whether it be pirouetting past a stray Lego on the floor or muffling the sound of a flushing toilet.

P.S. I need to teach the Nerd my bed ninja skills. He possesses none of them. The end.

Dear Fisher Price

Dear Fisher Price,

Apparently I am a difficult child to entertain these days. I have the cutest pink bouncy seat, but generally I am pretty fussy in it. Don't bother to turn on the vibrate option - that really gets on my nerves and I will let out several piercing screams to let everyone know just how much I don't like it. My parents got me a swing because swings were a "godsend" when their other children were babies. It's okay, I guess. If all my toys are lined up on the bar just right and the insanely annoying music is NOT turned on, I might enjoy my time in the swing for five or ten minutes. Then I get carsick and make sure Mom knows it's time to remove me from the swing.

My parents are not the brightest people on the planet. It takes them a while to figure out the right things for me. I don't know why because I try to let them now as loudly as possible what the wrong things are. They did finally figure out that I do like to be upright as much as possible, leading them to get me one of those Bumbo seats. It's fine and all, and I do like looking around and watching my siblings argue and throw Hot Wheel cars down the stairs. Only thing is, my neck can't support me for very long and I grow tired of the Bumbo seat quickly.

So Friday night Mom and Dad went to Toys R Us to scout out birthday present possibilities for my older brother. While there, they decided to go check out the baby section to see if possibly there was still some entertainment option left for me. Dad was talking animatedly about exersaucers. Hello?! Remember the whole my-neck-can't-support-my-head-for-very-long issue? Then they saw your Discover and Grow Kick and Play Piano Gym. I was immediately very interested in the bright colors of your product. Dad remembered some cute time in the bathtub when I was kicking my legs a lot and giggling so he thought I would like this piano gym. (I don't specifically remember this moment as I have a lot of cute moments.)

Anyway, my mom, cheapskate that she is, immediately looked at the price and said no way. (And really, Fisher Price? I mean I really wanted that piano but even I thought $55 was a bit steep.) Dad saw a sign that stated the piano gym was on sale for ten dollars off. Mom suddenly remembered that she might have a coupon for it and dug out her embarrassing coupon notebook to look. Now they were looking at a $40 piano gym. Wouldn't you know it, my parents stood there for twenty minutes debating whether or not to buy that piano gym?? If they had just taken a moment to look at this face,

they would have purchased it right away. But thankfully they finally did decide to buy it (whew!) and I got to play with it the next day.

I'm not sure what my favorite part of my new toy is. The mirror makes me laugh, and I think the animal rattles are adorable. I could just eat them up! (and I try to, on a regular basis...) My brothers and sister love to watch me pound out a tune on the piano with my feet, no doubt wishing they had such talent. Oh, and when I accidentally roll over? My mom can just lay the mirror and toys down and I get some valuable "tummy time,"' whatever that is.

So thank you for saving my desperate parents and for giving me something that is actually fun to play with. (Yes, I know I'm not supposed to end my sentences with prepositions, but give me a break. I'm only three months old!)

Keep up the great work!

Sincerely, the Drama Princess

****no, I was not contacted by Fisher Price to endorse/do a review on this product and certainly was not compensated in any way (although, FP, if you're interested, I really want that musical dino!). We simply want other desperate parents to know there is hope out there. And it is worth every dollar.****

Melatonin: A Cautionary Tale

A little over a year ago, our pediatrician introduced us to what we like to call "Amazing Grace." Its technical name is melatonin. The Beast's body does not produce enough melatonin on its own; thus before the discovery of melatonin, we had a little boy that was awake every night well past one or two in the morning. The first night we gave the Beast a small dose of melatonin was the most wonderful night as a parent I had ever experienced, after I got over the shock of him going to sleep so quickly. Since then, he has taken it every night, and we have had much better nights because of it. Every once in a while, the melatonin seems to have an opposite effect, in which the Beast becomes extremely wired and barely sleeps at all.

Yesterday was as usual a crazy day for us - Sundays always are! It is always a terrible chore to get the boys to nap on a Sunday afternoon, and we are rarely successful. However, on this particular day, the Beast had run off to do his business in the bathroom, and I could hear suspicious noises coming from his place of business. You know, the kind of noises that immediately make you jump up from your chair and bang on the bathroom door, demanding to know what on God's green earth was going on in there. When the Beast finally emerged, I could tell he was trying to hide the fact that he had just put something in his mouth. "What is that? Spit it out right now!" my not-so-calm self shouted. The Nerd managed to pry his mouth open and discovered that somehow the Beast had gotten hold of his bottle of melatonin and had eaten an entire pill. I was relieved - I knew it wouldn't hurt him, and we both thought perhaps this would be the thing to persuade the boys to nap. We gave a tiny bit to the Spud as well, and within minutes, both boys were snoozing away. Gloriousness! This meant a very tired and pregnant momma could get a nap in too!

Then bedtime arrived. After the usual routines of teeth brushing, bathroom going, and pajama clothing, it became very clear that the boys were NOT going to sleep. They became hysterical and giggly and very very LOUD. Every time the Nerd went in for a "visit" to help them remember what the meaning of bedtime was, they just giggled louder and rolled around on the floor. It was very LATE before the boys finally fell into a restless sleep.

Cue Monday. I woke up with the exhaustion that comes from birthday celebrations, over-excited kids, and children's church (now that's another story). The boys were already awake and in the same giddy mood with which they had gone to bed. They dumped all the clothes out of their dresser drawers. They ripped up valuable papers. They made the living room look like a hurricane had hit it in a matter of seconds. They hit their sister and screamed silly things at the top of their lungs. They threw their breakfast on the floor while laughing hysterically. They did all these things ALL DAY. I literally was just seconds away from listing them on Craigslist when the Nerd walked in the door. Dinner was a disaster as we anxiously counted down the minutes until the boys mercifully went to bed and FELL ASLEEP.

The bottle of melatonin is now on a shelf so high I have to use a stepladder to get it. Moral of the story? Never never never melatonize your children for a nap. Unless, of course, you thrive on having DEMONS terrorizing your home the next day. . .

Sweet Sweet Reward

When the Drama Queen turned four last year, she was "promoted" to the next Sunday School class. This meant a move from upstairs to downstairs and of course a new teacher. Mrs. P was so kind and sweet to our little girl - we knew it would be a good transition. We were not prepared, however, for the gargantuan bag of treats the Drama Queen brought home that first Sunday. The brown paper sack was filled with full-size candy bars, bags of Skittles, and ring pops! Since Mrs. P knew our daughter had two little brothers at home, she put three of everything in the bag. Yes, people, this meant that there were three full-size Snickers bars in there as well as three bags of gummy bears and three more of whatever treats Mrs. P chose to send home that week.

We thought it must have been a special Sunday for every kid in that class to be able to take home such treat bags! (There were 25 kids or so in her class). But we were very wrong - every Sunday the Drama Queen brought home yet another bag stuffed with candy treats. It didn't take us long to learn how to quickly intercept the treat bags after the service. We fell into a standard routine - take the treat bag from the Drama Queen, quickly analyze its contents and find something small the kids could enjoy on the way home (i.e. nothing chocolate!), and then put the bag away in the pantry "for later." Having their sweet tooths immediately satisfied, the kids would forget about the rest of the candy.

The Nerd and I, however, would not. Anything chocolate was shortly consumed or put in the freezer for those chocolaty cravings later on. Other candies, such as Skittles and gummy bears, were put into a container for "potty treats." It got so bad that the Nerd and I would be huddled by the van, checking to see what treats we (I mean the kids of course!) got that day. Some Sundays we would crow with delight upon finding Reese's Peanut Butter cups or Three Musketeers bars. Other weeks we would be disappointed to find only ring pops and laffy taffy.

Oh sure. We commiserated with the other parents of the class, laughing at jokes that Mrs. P had stock in all the local dentists and complaining that rewarding the kids' good behavior with sugary treats was setting the bar a little high.

Truth was, we loved it. Not only were we getting sweet treats to look forward to every week, but a teacher cared enough about our little girl to spoil her a little and send treats home for her brothers too. (shh, don't tell Mrs. P she was really spoiling us!)

This past June all the kids got promoted again, and the Drama Queen moved on to another, decidedly-less candy-filled class. We were not disappointed for long, however, as the Beast got his turn at being in Mrs. P's class. Although I worried that his autism and lack of attention would hinder him from being in a "regular" class, he seemed to hit it off well with Mrs. P. Who wouldn't? The woman is a regular candy store!

So the Nerd and I still get our weekly treats. This week we scored some packages of Rolos, which I decided to make into Rolo pretzel treats (here's the recipe - so easy and wickedly delicious!) I don't know how Mrs. P does it - but we (and our ever hungry sweet tooths) are eternally grateful!

Hey Look Mom

An enthusiastic Davey climbed out of his booster seat yesterday and ran to the bottom of the stairs that lead up to our home. I had just confirmed that yes, we were indeed having hot dogs for lunch, and he was psyched.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs. Without missing a beat, he tugged down his shorts and underwear, and proudly proclaimed, "Hey Mom look how short my pee-pee is!"

A barely-holding-it-together mom quickly encouraged her confident son to pull his pants back up amid spurts of laughter. He casually covered up and said, "Ha ha Mom, I'm a funny guy! I pull my pants down outside - I'm so funny!"

Yes, son, yes you are. And apparently the huge strides we are finally making in the potty training realm are giving him overwhelming confidence in his, ahem, equipment.

Here's hoping there are no repeat performances at church!

Super

Lately I've been finding myself trying to be "super mom." All right - who am I kidding? The attempts started when sweet little Drama Queen was born. This condition has been only exacerbated by reading too many "perfect" mommy blogs or trying to compare myself to other mommies I know.

I think that sometimes I forget that my family is not "their" family. My kids are not "their" kids. God made our family unit unique - and what's right for our family may not necessarily work for another family.

I also need to be reminded (more often than I care to admit!) that I can't do anything without God. Every day is proof that I am painfully human and that I can only "do all things THROUGH Christ which strengtheneth me."

And as I continue on this perilous journey called motherhood, I am discovering that the path that is right for our family is not the popular one. Even amidst Christian circles, the choices we are making as a family draw negative attention and criticism. I used to care about these comments, these harsh words of "constructive criticism." I felt my family should look like and act like and participate in the same things as all the other families in our circle.

More and more, I am realizing that it isn't about me and "fitting in" with others. God's way is perfect. "For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end." (Jeremiah 29:11)

I wish I could say that this momma fully trusts God in every thing, especially the new steps that are coming up in our lives soon. I'm still working on that - but I feel a peace knowing that the decisions we are making are the right ones.

I won't be achieving that "super mom" status any time soon, but I am so thankful I have a super God on which to lean!

Mommy Guilt ?

Running errands is not my favorite way to spend my day. And when I have the wonderful privilege of taking along three children (who cannot get along for just one second, thank you very much!), well, it just falls further and further down my list of least favorite things to do. Especially when those adorable children all initiate that whiny tone of voice and complain about everything - including but not limited to: my feet hurt, I'm tired of this store, why can't we get some candy, I want to look at the toys, she's looking at me, this is so boring...

So. When I do have to accomplish this most unpleasant task, afterwards I often feel the van pulling into a Starbucks drive-thru, as if led by some invisible magnet. Having survived an hour or two of whining and fighting, I most certainly deserve a reward, and most often I prefer my reward to be full of sugar and caffeine. We then head home with momma a much happier and calmer person, which is really good for everyone all around.

Recently, a friend asked me if I felt guilty about doing that. "Doing what?" I wondered, trying to decide what new slice of mommy guilt to add to my already burgeoning pie. "You know," she said. "Buying a drink for yourself and not getting the kids anything." Honestly, I had never thought about it. But now, the question was out there, and I considered it.

And here's my take: absolutely no! I think moms should be able to enjoy many treats that don't have to be shared with the offspring. (anyone else wait until their kids go to bed so that they can eat their favorite ice cream?!) Just because Momma is getting a treat, it certainly doesn't mean the kids all need (or deserve) a treat too. Beyond that, as a conscientious parent, I definitely will not reward whining or squabbling with a treat. My final reason? Starbucks is way too expensive to treat all the kids! *

What do you think? Should I feel guilty for not treating my kids when I treat myself?

*disclaimer: I have been known to very occasionally get a couple of chocolate milks with whipped cream for charming and deserving children on a trip to my favorite coffee shop. I am not a total ogre. :)

Precious Moments

Now that school is out for the Drama Queen, we have settled into a different and much more relaxed morning routine. I still get up before the kids do and try to get in some quiet time before the ruckus starts. When the kids come bouncing out of their rooms at 7:30 am or so, I make them breakfast and listen to their childish prattle. I then usually have the kids pick a show to watch on Netflix so I can check email, Facebook, and bloggy endeavors in peace for a half hour.

This morning, after a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and cow juice, I told the Beast it was his turn to pick the morning television fare. He pressed up against my leg and said, "Momma, I just want to snuggle with you. Can we watch something on the computer with you?" Oh, sweet mercy, my heart melted and I hoisted all 45 pounds of beastliness onto my lap as we perused the Disney Junior site for something fun to watch. Not wanting to be left out, the Spud began climbing on the side of the chair, begging for a space to snuggle too. With the Beast occupying one knee and the Spud the other, we cuddled and watched an episode of Little Einsteins together. My right leg fell asleep (can you guess which kid was sitting there?!) and I had to keep adjusting so that little Sprout would not get smooshed, but I savored every uncomfortable second. The requests to snuggle and the spur-of-the-moment hugs and kisses are not as frequent as they were before. Often it is me asking for the cuddle time; so when my little guys initiate it, it is pure bliss. I am reminded to cherish these times as I am all too well aware that the scarcity of such precious moments will only increase over time.

Felling nostalgic, I brought up some photos of the kids exactly one year ago and studied their chubby faces and lopsided grins. How much change one year brings! Just look at their sweet sweet selves:

Oh, I miss those days already! But, I don't want to dwell on past memories and miss the cuteness, the charm, the mischief, and the fun that is my life right now. I will have plenty of time later to cherish the MEMORIES; right now I want to cherish the MOMENTS!

A Glimpse Into Life Lately

Monday Mischief

in case anyone was wondering how my Monday went. . .

Not So Easy Peasy

It's not so easy to find time to blog when you are:

*wiping snot every five minutes - major allergies around here!

*still attempting to potty train the Beast

*dressing your boys in matching outfits because you can - and because you know one day they won't let you do it anymore

*shopping for the perfect Easter outfits for the kids. matching of course

*cleaning up a mess to turn around and clean up another mess, only to turn around and discover that the original mess is now on Version Two

*trying to accomplish housework with two not-so-subtle and not-so quiet shadows

*taking advantage of the sunshine that has FINALLY graced us with its presence

*working on Easter projects for the kids and not having the slightest idea what you are doing

*sneaking in a sloppy kiss here and a squishy hug there - because, like the matching outfits, those will not be around forever

*driving Hot Wheels and Thomas trains endlessly around the tracks and actually enjoying it

*listening to yet another knock-knock joke that makes no sense and offering up yet another rendition of the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" at the top of your lungs

Yep, it's busy. Crazy busy, fun busy, I wouldn't-want-it-any-other-way busy. (Of course there is always time to play around with photos in Picnik!) ;) Gotta go pick up the girlie from school! Happy Tuesday, all!

Stuck in the Trenches

Potty training. A formidable duo of words. Words that make me want to run screaming and crying to the hills, never to look back. Words that make me want to fork over a large sum of money to anyone who will come in and do the job for me.

Unfortunately, I am stuck in the trenches of this battle. Nay, friends, let's call it what it really is - a WAR! It would have been just a battle had it not lasted (and still continues on) so interminably.

Apparently I was tricked with my first kid. Granted, it was still no easy task, but before the Drama Queen turned three, she was fully potty trained, including night time. Thus I was fooled into thinking that perhaps potty training wasn't so bad. I may have even gone so far as to say that to another mom who was struggling with the whole issue. I was confident in my techniques until. . .

The Beast showed up. He and I have been battling this thing out now for quite some time. I think the first grenade was thrown when I tried to start him at the same age his sister did. It was quickly apparent that he was not "ready." Years later (and yes, I said years people) we are still struggling. The exhaustion is setting in for this mommy. I am tired of changing yet another pull-up or figuring out which stain remover will work best on the latest poop-encrusted underwear. I am weary of making sticker charts, promising sweet rewards, doing several different versions of "potty dances", and pleading with the little man to just use the potty already. I look at my foe - a four-year-old, 44 pound boy - and think, "How is it possible that we have not succeeded yet?"

The Spud has entered the fray as of late. With cheerful Mikeyisms such as "I go potty too" and "gimmecandyipoop", he also wants to attempt a confrontation with the great porcelain throne. You would think he would take one look at his despairing, worn-out mother and BACK OFF, but no, he persists and tries to wedge himself onto the toilet while I am trying yet another tactic with the Beast. He sits on the toilet seat for a nanosecond and then jumps off, pumping his fist into the air and shouting, "I pee in the potty! Now I get a treat!" Then I have to be the bad guy, announcing to both boys that neither will get a treat, since one really didn't pee in the potty and the other one blissfully peed in his pants.

Not to mention, the Beast has another weapon up his sleeve - his recently-diagnosed autism. His lack of focus and poor attention span have certainly magnified the problem. I have several sites offering helpful (and otherwise) information that I continually peruse in seeking advantages in this war of potty training.

Anyone else stuck in these trenches with me? Please, tell me so I can feel like I'm not the only one fighting this. Or, if you made it out alive and succeeded in your venture, share that too. Only don't brag too much - we trench folk wouldn't appreciate that. And for any of you that have advice or awesome tips to help me along the way, I would greatly appreciate it. Especially if your tip was entitled "Potty training your stubborn autistic child in less than a day" or "How to hypnotize your child into using the potty, eating all his dinner, and cleaning up his toys."

Wordless Wednesday - She's Reading

so mostly for the grandparents and other adoring relatives. . . our preschooler is reading!

just had to brag for a minute. :)

okay, better go check on the kids. they are probably doing something I don't want to brag about.

more wordless fun at 5 Minutes for Mom...