When honesty isn't the best policy

"You guys, I'm so sorry... but we're going to have to run back home."

We were on our way to a family reunion, and I had already made three trips between the van and the house for things I had forgotten. During those lightbulb moments, the van had still been parked conveniently in the garage; this time, though, we were a good mile or two down the road. I had just realized that the watermelon I was contributing to the evening's dinner was still sitting in the fridge.

"We'll get to Nana and Papa's as soon as we can, I swear. But I really need to take that watermelon."

My poor hubby was stuck working late, so it was just me and the kiddos, who were anxious to see their grandparents and cousins. The sooner, the better.

I dashed into the house, grabbed the food, and waddled back out, channeling my inner Jennifer Grey. ("I carried a melon.")

This, I decided, was a teachable moment. Sure, we could be frustrated about the delays. I could be mad at myself. I could be impatient and short with them. But wouldn't it be better to enjoy and have a little fun?

"You kiddos are so lucky," I told them. "You have such an amazing and wonderful mom... If it weren't for me being a little clumsy and forgetful, I would be so perfect that you would feel like it was impossible to live up to my standard. Instead you can just think, 'My mom is so awesome! But you know, she's not perfect, so that helps me to know that I can be awesome too, just like her.' Isn't that great?"

There was a pause as they considered this highly informative revelation. Then Monkey chimed in, "Well, it's OK... but I wouldn't mind if you were just a little less forgetful."

Or, you know, if you were just a little less honest.

Moments of Redemption

OK, I am going to be really honest here, friends. I hate the 4th grade. For real. I hated it when I was in it, and Lamb's 4th grade year really isn't changing my opinion of it at all. The awkwardness, the drama, the I'm-not-a-little-kid-but-I'm-not-a-teenager, the worries over grades that she isn't likely going to remember by this time next year... I could go on, but it's starting to give me heart palpitations, so I'm going to stop there. It's not my favorite year. Or Lamb's either, to be fair.

But just when I think I can't take another eye roll or one more twinge of heartache over seeing her awkwardly trying to become herself, we have a night like tonight. Because tonight, Lamb came to me and said, "Mommy, I would really like for you to give me more responsibility. Could I have more chores or something, please?"

Am I in some sort of alternate universe? Am I being "Punk'd"? Maybe I accidentally took some super-trippy drug. (And if so, what was it and where can I get more?)

Whatever. Tonight I am just going to soak in this little moment of redemption... and try not to make any sudden moves. I definitely do not want to rock this boat.

Every day, every burden

Praise be to the Lord,

to God our Savior,

who daily bears our burdens.

Psalm 68:19

If you have been reading for a while or have heard me speak, you probably know that this is one of my very favorite verses. God bears our burdens daily. Every day. No matter what. He never refuses because they are too big for Him to handle. He never refuses because they are too small and petty for Him to bother with. Every single day, whatever your burden, He is there.

That brought me tremendous comfort when Roo was diagnosed and I thought my world was ending. It got me through days of depression, when I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. It has run through my mind over and over as I have sat with friends who were struggling through various life situations.

And today. Today has been a tough one, friends. Nothing is wrong, really. I am just overwhelmed with life. I got up early to get a few things done, and fell asleep during my quiet time. I can't get caught up on laundry. For every item I put away, Roo throws 10 more across the room. I tried to get something out of the fridge, and a whole shelf fell out--and I can't get it back in. This has been a 1 step forward, 3 steps back kind of day. The kind of day that seems too big for me but too small for God.

But then he reminded me of this verse. Daily. No problem too big or too small. "Remember yesterday?" He asked me.

Yesterday. As I was getting ready to pack my kids' lunches (one of my LEAST favorite chores of all time), I checked the school web site and realized that French toast sticks--their favorite--was being served. Score! I didn't have to pack.

But there's something you need to know: In my house, we have a rule that I pay for their lunches ONLY. If they want something extra--a slushie, chips, etc--they have to take their own spending money to pay for it. (I started this because they were FLYING through their lunch money, buying extra treats every day--sometimes for their friends, too!) And on French toast stick day, you can buy double French toast sticks for a dollar. (It might be 50 cents. There was a brief discussion about this. But really, the amount doesn't matter.) Each of the big kids counted a dollar out of their spending money. Lamb put hers right in her backpack, but Monkey kept playing with his quarters, tossing them, rubbing them together, tossing them, knocking them into each other. I told him to put them in his pocket, and he did... for a good 30 seconds, and then they were back out. I reminded him again, and again he couldn't keep away from them.

As soon as the kids got on the bus, I turned around and saw them: 4 shiny quarters, laying on the floor. My heart groaned inside. My poor sweet Monkey, he is so emotionally fragile lately, and he is so eager to please. He wouldn't realize he had forgotten the money until it was time to use it. He wouldn't know that it would be OK for him to go ahead and buy the extra food on his lunch account just this once.

I considered running the money over to the school, but decided that was silly. It was one thing if he needed the money to eat, but to go to the school and burden someone with going to his class and interrupting his teacher just so that he could have EXTRA food didn't seem wise. It would have to be a life lesson for him.

I know, I know. It's such a small thing. But I worried all day about him and his darn lunch money. My stomach was in knots. And I prayed about it. I prayed about French toast sticks, you guys. OK, not really. Really, I prayed for Monkey and his day and his heart.

And do you know what happened? That kid got in the van after school just as happy as could be. "Mommy, guess what! I asked for double French toast sticks at lunch (which should have been six all together), but they only had 5 left... so they didn't charge me for them!" He never even realized that he didn't have his dollar with him. He got his extra French toast sticks. AND in his mind he got a deal, which to my little business man in training, was the absolute highlight of his day.

Every day. Every burden. No problem too big or too small.

He will bear it. He will provide.

Maybe not JUST like me

Get ready to learn something new about me. Are you sitting down? Here it is...

In general, I think I'm a pretty typically affectionate person. I mean, I might not be what many consider a "hugger", but I don't shy away from an embrace, I'm happy to touch the hand of a friend who is struggling, and I love me a good massage. Touch is not an issue for me.

But when I am sick, leave.me.alone. For real. I don't want to be snuggled or stroked or rubbed or touched in any way. I barely want to be spoken to. I can remember even as a kid feeling my stomach turn when my cat would crawl on my lap when I was too sick for school. I just want to curl up in a ball with a hot cup of tea and a good movie--or even a not-so-good movie... or an old episode of "Friends"... or just Pinterest--and be left to suffer in silence.

For the past 10 days or so, a bug has been making its way through my house. In fact, there have been a few of them over the past few weeks, to the point where I can't even remember where or with whom this most recent one actually started! All I know is that I avoided it for a long time. Until Friday night. While my kiddos had a few school friends over for a belated Halloween celebration, I started to feel increasingly run-down. For the next few days, it was a minor annoyance. But today... ugh. I feel terrible.

I just want to sit and sulk in peace.

In the meantime, I'm not the only victim here. Like I said, a variety of bugs have been hitting my house, but yesterday I took Lamb to the doctor for what turned out to be a sinus infection and strep. She actually didn't feel too bad, but the strep had caused a nasty rash on her face that was itchy. Unfortunately, the amoxicillin is taking its toll on her tummy, though, so today... while I feel like death... while I just want to sit in peace and moan... Lamb was home with me.

And my little girl, my mini-me, my child who drives me crazy because she is just like me... apparently has at least one key difference from her mama. When she is sick, she wants to snuggle all.the.time. She wants to constantly be touching me and rubbing my arm and nuzzling her head into my neck. She wants me to be in the same room AT ALL COSTS. She wants to whine and commiserate.

This is not funny, Lord.

And here's the odd part: She hasn't always been like this! The first time I noticed it was just 3 weeks ago, when she had Hand, Foot, and Mouth. I blogged about it then, too. It was grating on my nerves then too--but I was healthy then. Today all I want is to put myself in a bubble, and she is trying to crawl back into my WOMB.

For as many times as I have prayed, "Lord, does she have to be like me in every way?", I had no idea He would chose this as the way to show so clearly that she is her own person.

I'm sure I'll laugh about this later. (OK, I'm laughing about it a little bit now, too...)

Compassion

I have a rather humbling confession to make... compassion is not my strong suit.


Don't get me wrong. I feel strongly for the wronged in our world. The older I get, as a matter of fact, the more emotional I become about the state of our society. Children with Down syndrome around the world who are abandoned--or even aborted--tear my heart in two. Thoughts of the beautiful people I met in Mozambique three years ago flood me with passion to change the world. Even sentimental commercials make me teary--something that just did.not.happen 10 years ago.


But as a mom, my compassion can be lacking. When my kids mess up, sympathy is not my "go to" response--although I'm working on it. I never thought of myself as an angry person until I had a restless infant, a stubborn toddler, a sassy tween. Oy vey.


And when it comes to sickness, I'm not much better. Oh sure, when my kiddos cry, I think, "My poor baby." But after a while, my compassion is all used up. Sometimes I think the drama is bigger than the illness. But even worse is when I can TELL that it is genuine, and I have done everything I know to do and the tears persist and I think, "Why are you trying to make me feel bad? I have done everything I can for you! Just feel miserable in silence!" Like they are crying at me to make me feel like a bad mom--because, you know, it is obviously all about me. Their sickness and misery and tears couldn't possibly be about them and their own feelings.


Oh my word, I am the worst mom ever.


No, I get it. I recognize that I am not the worst mom EVER. But seriously, this area needs a LOT of work.


So on Monday I got a call from the school nurse that Lamb had a "rash of unidentified origin" on her hands and feet, and even though she felt fine and had no fever, she could not be at school because Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease has been making the rounds. (I took her to the pediatrician later that day, who confirmed that it is indeed Hand, Foot, and Mouth.) For the first two days, it was pretty fun--she felt fine, so we played games, watched movies, even did a little shopping. But sometime on Tuesday afternoon, she took a sharp turn for the worse.


By Thursday, all she wanted was for me to snuggle her. All day. All.day. I was loving it at first. A chance to snuggle my sassy and independent 9-year-old? Yes please! A chance to just hang out and chat and watch "Cupcake Wars"? Definitely! Knowing that my hugs and snuggles could calm her tears? Wahoo! But soon she had to be touching me at every moment, I couldn't even stand up without sending her into a fit of tears. If I managed to sit on the floor while she was on the couch, she could cling to my arm or shoulder. And even when I was right up next to her, she would cry out, "Mommy, I don't feel good! Mommy! MOMMY! I DON'T FEEL GOOD!!!!"


I hate that she doesn't feel good. I HATE that for her. But seriously, I am at the end of myself here.


And then yesterday I got a call from the school nurse. I saw the number and thought, "How nice that they are calling to check up on Lamb." Instead, I heard, "I have Monkey here in the office. I know that his sister is home with Hand, Foot, and Mouth, and he has just a few faint spots on his chin and hands."


Lovely.


Is there a compassion pill I can take somewhere? I'm gonna need an extra dose.

Weary Angels

Do angels get tired? This is a question I think I'm going to ask God one day. Also, what kind of a "thank you" gift does one give to an angel?

You see, Roo has had quite a couple of weeks. He's given us a few scares. There was the regular kind of scare, like the night he was up with croup for hours, and I sat up with him and snuggled him and debated and debated whether or not to take him to the ER--since every time we go, he is a million percent better by the time we get there. We made it through right here at home, and he was breathing fine by late morning, but it is still not a fun experience.

And then there was the mysterious spot on his head that just APPEARED one day, a giant hickey on his bald noggin. I exchanged worried texts and phone calls with a wonderful aide in his class who is also a paramedic and is quickly becoming a lovely friend. She assured me that it was not petechiae (a potential sign of leukemia and something to watch for in kiddos with the extra chromosome), and after a few days it was gone--although we never found out what it was or what caused it.

And then there were the other kind of scares... Like the time we were all in the backyard and suddenly Roo wasn't with us anymore... and we found him in the garage. Or the time we were all in the backyard and suddenly Roo wasn't with us anymore... and we found him in the house, upstairs in his room. Or the time we were all in the backyard and suddenly Roo wasn't with us anymore... and we found him at the house across the street. Are you detecting a pattern here? Don't ever take your eyes off of Roo outside--even WITH the fenced-in backyard.

There's more I could share, but you get the idea. Roo simultaneously makes my heart stop and makes it pound harder than it ever has in my life. I know that sounds impossible, but I am not kidding you, it's true.

And this morning I was struck with the realization that I am not the one keeping him safe. Yes, it is my job to protect and love and nurture and care for him, and I take that very seriously. But ultimately, it is God who keeps him safe, who knows his every move and sees every sleepless night.

And then I thought, his angels must be exhausted!

Oh, this boy.

Heart to heart

We had a serious talk this week as a family. I was sharing some parts of my story with my kiddos, trying to figure out how to explain without oversharing, wondering what they were ready to hear, wanting to make sure they had a clear picture without, well, trauma.

At the end, I took a deep breath and asked, "OK, guys. Do you have any questions?"

Pause.

Monkey looked up at me and said, "Well... Mommy?"

Half-glad and half-nervous, I said, "Yeah, Baby?"

"Can I take skateboarding lessons?"

Oh. I guess they're handling it OK.

Five years ago

I turned 35 on Sunday. I've never had much of an issue with age. I've joked about it--approaching 30, turning 30, saying goodbye to 30--but it never actually bothered me. But 35. Oh, 35, you make me feel old.

But I digress.

It hit me today that it has been almost 5 years since I first knew about Roo. It was at my 30th birthday party--which was actually a few weeks after my birthday--that I whispered to my best friend, "Honestly? I haven't been feeling the best... and I'm wondering... if baby number 3 might be on the way." My hubby and I were not trying--in fact, we were actively preventing a pregnancy. But God had other plans.

These five years have been an unbelievable roller coaster, from the pregnancy right on through until now. If you had told me then that I would be loving life as a special needs mama--that I would dream of one day adopting a SECOND child with special needs--I wouldn't have believed you. I truly believed in my heart that God did not make me able to handle a child with special needs. Then again, I still believe that--He chose to equip me as we went, not prepare me ahead of time.

I don't feel like I bear a large resemblance to the me of 5 years ago. But I like the me of today. I love my life. And I absolutely love my Roo.

It's amazing the difference 5 years can make.

Just one boring summer day

I am a big believer in free time. I don't like to overschedule my kids (though I struggle with that in my own life). I'm all for church programs and sports teams and piano lessons, and even trips to the zoo and play dates and other activities to keep them well-rounded and create memories. But I also think there is tremendous value in just being home. No agenda. No plan. And sometimes, Mommy isn't available to drop everything and solve all the world's problems--sometimes they have to figure it out while Mommy folds laundry. I think this is good. Important, even.

Do I sound a little defensive? A little like I'm trying too hard? Because I really do believe that, but sometimes I have to remind myself. Sometimes I have to say, "Remember, my heart, we do not HAVE to leave the house every day. I am NOT a bad mom just because Monkey's eyes plead with me when he says, 'I just can't find anything to DO.'"

Yesterday I was reminding myself. We are leaving for vacation in a few days, the boys had both been sick, life had been busy. I needed to catch up, do laundry, wash dishes. Monkey and Lamb were bickering, snarking. I sat them down and read out loud to them for a while, then gave them required separate play time. "You can play anywhere in the house, but not together. You cannot pester each other or ask each other questions or even comment on what the other person is doing. Play by yourself for a while, and I will let you know when you can play together."

There was eye-rolling. Followed by a little bit of moping. Maybe even a door closed juuuuuuuuuuust shy of slamming. There was silence, broken only by a sigh here and there.

I decided to make myself scarce, closing myself in my room with a big pile of clean clothes. And I wondered. "Maybe we do need to be out every day. Maybe they need me to keep them busier. Maybe I need to make them a list of things they can play. But I don't want to squelch their creativity. Do they have creativity, or have I already squelched it by scheduling too many things for them, and now they are ruined for life?"

I emerged to find the start of something wonderful, although I didn't realize it at the time.

Monkey had begun a game of "stuffed animal bowling." My kiddos have a couple of stuffed animals that are basically plush balls with faces. He was using those to knock down other animals, and was quite delighted with himself.

I lifted the ban on playing together, then went back to work.

My friends, what happened next was absolutely amazing. My two kiddos (Roo was at camp) put together their own obstacle course of fun, complete with six different stations. They used stuffed animals, empty paper towel rolls (from the recycling! no piles of unused towels laying on my kitchen floor!), markers and crayons, paper plates--all kinds of things that were laying around the house. They made six different stations of activities and games. And then they went through all of the stations together, laughing and giggling through the whole thing. They kept score of sorts, but it was sort of like "Whose Line is it Anyway?"--the points didn't seem to matter.

They laughed more than they have all summer. They created something--a whole assortment of somethings--and they worked together to do it. They brainstormed together and helped each other.

And I. was. vindicated.

Just one boring summer day. Probably the best day of our summer so far.

Just checking

"Buddy, you have got to go to sleep."

We are still trying to transition Roo to the "big boy" bed, out of the crib. He still loves it--has started to ask for it, even--but he will still lay awake in it for HOURS after we put him to bed. My tolerance level is generally somewhere between 1 and 2 hours (checking on him--and putting him BACK into bed--several times in that span) before I give up and put him in his crib (where he drifts off almost immediately).

"Night-night, Sweetie."

It was not the first time that night I had been in there to tell him to go to bed. It was not even the second or the third. I was ready to move him to the crib, but when I had picked him up (out of the pile of books that he had dumped on the floor), he had pointed to the lower bunk and said, "Bed? Mommy, bed?" I couldn't refuse.

"Mommy?"

"Night-night." (I may have gritted my teeth just a little.)

"Mommy?" He sat up.

"Buddy, please lay down and go to sleep. Night-night."

"Mommy? Night-night, love you?"

My heart skipped a beat. Every time I put Roo to bed, I walk to the door and say, "Night-night, Roo. Love you." But this time I didn't. I had forgotten the "love you."

He didn't.

I smiled.

"Yes, Sweetie. Night-night. I love you."

He laid down with his hands behind his head, his ultimate pose of relaxation.

He was just checking.

It's a girl thing

June isn't even over, and I am already exhausted from our summer "break." Don't get me wrong--I am not complaining. I'm just amazed at how much fun we have managed to cram into just a few weeks' time. A quick trip to see some old friends (and for our kids to make new ones), VBS, ice cream, play dates, date nights for the grown-ups, and the list goes on. Big on fun, low on sleep.

In the middle of it all, we got a call from Roo's school that the local Rotary Camp (a camp for kids with special needs)--which happens to meet at his school--had an opening after a student dropped out, and they offered it to Roo. It is free.of.charge. Transportation is included. The only downside? It is Monday - Friday, 9 AM - 3 PM (no naps), for SIX WEEKS. Did I say that was a downside? ;-) Seriously, it is exciting to have the opportunity, but that is a lot for a little guy. He missed the first week because the other student dropped out partway through, and then we went on vacation; but he joined in last week, and is back again this week. He is completely bushed, but he seems to be loving it.

So Roo is gone during the day... and now this week, my sweet Monkey is at church camp (during the day) too! (Last year the big kids went to camp at the same time, to make life easier for Mama. This year, though, Lamb is going to SLEEPAWAY CAMP! For real! And the way the schedule worked out, it was better to send them on separate weeks.) So all week long, from 9 AM until 3 PM, it has been just me and my girl.

 

On Monday we did some boring stuff (grocery shopping, laundry, etc), but then hit the library and went swimming at a friend's house. On Tuesday she gathered up some spending money, and we went shopping. You've gotta cover the basics, you know.

 

 

Yesterday was the second in our series of 8 mother-daughter dates in the Secret Keeper Girl series. (There are 2 books of dates. This is the one we are doing right now...)

 



 

A few weeks ago we went to a fancy tea house to have (of course) tea, and to remind Miss Lamb that

she is a masterpiece created by God. Yesterday we had facials and talked about real physical beauty, and also proper skin care, since she is coming to the age where her skin will be changing. I had originally planned to take her to a spa to get facials for the two of us, but oh.my.word. My budget was not built for that kind of abuse. Instead, we called up a friend who sells Mary Kay, and she came to us. It turned out to be a great choice, because she could walk Lamb through the steps she needs to do to care for her skin--and Lamb said that she preferred putting everything on herself instead of "just laying there" while other people did it for her. (Whose child is she, anyway?!?)

And today we are wrapping up our girl time in one of our favorite spots: Starbucks. (Ready for some irony? Neither of us drinks coffee.) My hubby asked what we were up to today, and I told him, "We're going to drop Monkey off, drive straight to Starbucks, and stay until we have to get Roo off the bus--or until they kick us out, whichever comes first." And he gave me a look that said, "Why on earth would you do that?" But wisely he actually said, "Great! Have fun!"

No, we're not just sitting around watching the clock. We came armed with great ways to spend the time... books, notebooks, magazines, a Bible study that we are doing together, my laptop, and the best part...

 

board games. We brought Sorry, Skip Bo, a deck of cards, and, well, who knows what else is in my big Mary Poppins bag. It has been a great way to connect with my little mini-me.

 

 

Tomorrow Roo will be staying home from camp, since he is turning into a train wreck after days and days of no naps (and nights and nights of refusing to go to bed). Our girl time will be done. The laundry will need folding, the dishes will need washed, the carpets will need swept. But I do not regret one.single.minute of this week. Because yesterday she was a tiny little baby all swaddled up in my arms, and tomorrow she will be a mysterious and moody teenager, but today she is OK with--no, she craves--girl time with her mommy. And I am going to soak it up.

 

 

Library, swimming, shopping, facials, Starbucks. It's a girl thing.

 

 

 

Friday Funny: Appropriateness

Coming home from Lamb's spring concert, we decided to walk along the front of the house and in the front door (instead of going through the garage) to enjoy the flowers that I had spent all day planting. Mr. Fantastic was carrying a rather odorous Roo.

"It's funny," Mr. Fantastic began, "to have two distinct smells at the same time... Roo's a** and the flowers..."

I had barely given him the look when Monkey chimed in, "Yeah, you've got Roo's a** in this nostril and the flowers in that nostril!"

The look got even sterner. And I may have simultaneously stifled a laugh. That's what happens when you don't watch what you say.

"Buddy," I told him, "we really should use that word. It's not appropriate."

Monkey looked up at me with big sad eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I won't say 'nostril' anymore."

I decided it was best to just let it go.

It's the thought...

"Mommy! Mommy!!!"

Monkey is home from school today on doctor's orders. He has strep throat, but is really feeling pretty good. It's like a dream come true for a 7-year-old boy--you HAVE to stay home from school when you're feeling well enough to enjoy it. It's almost like you're getting away with something.

I was folding laundry upstairs when he came running, calling excitedly.

"You'll never believe what just happened! I was downstairs, and I thought, 'I need to do something nice for Mommy.' So I decided to play Mario Kart, but I picked YOU at the beginning instead of me. And guess what! I got first place--and I won you a new circuit AND a new vehicle!!!! And I did it just for you, Mommy, because you're such a great mom."

He flashed me a proud smile & a thumbs up, give me a wink (Where did he learn that?!?), and practically skipped back downstairs, so proud of his kindness.

Maybe he IS getting away with something.

When your words come back to haunt you

If you are at all familiar with my blog or have heard me speak, you know that I feel strongly about letting go of expectations. Sometimes we have to let go of the "should be"s of life and accept what is. It feels scary, but it is so freeing when you finally get there.

Sometimes that's easier said than done. And I'm not even talking about the big, scary circumstances of life... like, say, finding out that your 3-month-old has a chromosomal abnormality that is going to completely rock your world. No, I'm talking about the day-to-day things, like... well, let's just say for example, you want to put up Christmas decorations and do some cleaning, and you have a very sick and clingy 3-year-old and you can't get anything accomplished.

Not that that has ever happened to me. Or is happening to me today. It's just an example I have pulled out of thin air, obviously.

OK, you got me. It's a true story. You know, that's happening to a friend. Let me tell you her story.

This friend of mine has a little guy who may or may not have thrown up in the van on the way to my her speaking engagement yesterday. And he has had terrible diarrhea ever since. Today it's to the point where the poor guy won't even sit down--he just squats all of the time. He's pretty happy, other than the 20 or so times a day that he's getting his diaper changed. And he won't eat a blessed thing. Poor sweet boy.

In the meantime, the house is full of bins of Christmas decorations. And the kids' rooms are overflowing with toys that need to be sorted through and pared down to prepare for the onslaught that is called Christmas. And her new office is full of bags of things that need to be donated and files to sort through and various junk that has just found its way in there. And her garage is still full of stuff from when the basement flooded this summer. And she didn't plan to change diapers every 15 minutes and search for the best cures for diaper rash and coax her sweet child to eat just one.single.bite of applesauce or yogurt or just about anything.

And she got a little overwhelmed.

Then she remembered the talk that she gave the day before, the one where she says that each of us is created for a unique purpose. The one where she says that we have to let go of our own agenda and recognize that what seems like "Plan B" to us is often "Plan A" for God. He's got this. Life may take a different turn than you expected, but God had it in the plans all along, and He will use it for good. Embrace it, don't fight it.

Then she realized that this may not be limited to big-life scenarios. Maybe she needs to let go a little. Maybe the source of her stress isn't really the things on her to-do list, but her unwillingness to change her timeframe. Maybe God's plan for today doesn't involve snowglobes and wreaths and cleaning. And maybe, just maybe, if she embraces her day rather than fighting it, she'll be pleasantly surprised at where it takes her.

Maybe she should take her own advice more often.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sick little boy to snuggle.

Crying in Target

Yesterday was our first real snow of the season. It arrived to mixed reviews according to my Facebook, but in my house it has been a welcome addition. Well, it did lead to some traffic woes yesterday (Come on, folks, we live in Ohio. We get snow EVERY YEAR.), but overall I am loving the feel of a winter wonderland. The ground is white, the trees are sparkling, Starbucks has red cups... It doesn't get much better.

And thanks to my friend Snow, I became stupid brave determined enough to head out for some shopping with Roo this morning. We actually had a few errands that we needed to run, but we ended up in Target, and I decided to peruse the Christmas decorations while I was there. And then I remembered that it will soon be time for our Elf to come (We don't do the "real" Elf on the Shelf, but we have a little gingerbread man that I use as our elf, and we have a beautiful advent calendar where he leaves a little treat--or a clue about where to find a treat--each day.), and it seemed like a good time to start gathering trinkets for him to pass along to our children. So I headed to the stocking stuffers.

And that is when it hit me.

I looked at rows of Hello, Kitty and Dora the Explorer and even Disney princess toys... and realized that my little girl isn't so little any more. We may have kept her away from many of the "teenagery" things I see little girls getting into these days, and she has developed a sudden and unexpected love of Sofia the first... but she is growing up. Princess wands and tiaras aren't her thing any more. A Dora headband is more likely to elicit an eye roll than a smile. For goodness sake, the girl doesn't even believe in Santa any more--she's going to know the elf isn't real!

And then I cried in Target. Just a little. Just a tear or two. I love my girl. I love her age, the conversations we can have, the concepts she grasps that she couldn't just a few years ago. I love the poems that she writes, I love that she finds and corrects grammar mistakes on magazines and worksheets that she receives. But I wish I would have cherished the princess phase a little more. I wish I could hold onto the magic of toddlerhood and the preschool years. Life with an 8-year-old is tons of fun, and in some ways I am much better with this age than the little ones... but already it is going much too fast.

My kids are growing up. Somebody hit the brakes, would you? This is flying by.

Then I looked down and saw that Roo's nose was runny and tried to wipe it off. "Magic of toddlerhood" my foot. 3-year-olds can be a real pain--and they can scream bloody murder at the site of a simple tissue. Who would miss this??? Not me. Nope, definitely not. Excuse me while I wipe my eyes... allergies, you know...

Maybe I should just avoid Target for a while.

Like that's going to happen.

And we wonder why moms are a little bit crazy...

Thursday afternoons are hectic.  Partly because I am just.so.over the week at that point--swimming lessons after school on Tuesday, church Wednesday evening, and an after-school science program on Thursday. Our afternoons and evenings are NON-STOP, from the minute they get off the bus until the magical time when they are finally in bed for the night. For two days I have been pushing them, "Guys, we have to get going. PLEASE get that done. What else do you still need to finish?" As if a typical day wasn't cramped enough, on these days we have chunks of time stolen from us. And suddenly it's Thursday and I'm tired of it, and I know that I have to do it again.

And when I do go pick up the big kids from their after-school program, I have Roo with me. And he is excited to find his big brother and sister. Who are in two separate rooms. On the exact opposite end of the school from the parking lot. And I don't know if you have guessed this, but Roo can be a lot to handle.

As an added bonus, on this particular Thursday, it was raining. Strike that, it was POURING DOWN RAIN. So I didn't bother to pull the stroller out of the van and set it up, I just grabbed Roo and ran for the building.

I have to admit that it was comical to let him run through the building, partly because it is just plain hilarious to see the way he runs, with his arms flying and his feet still a little unsure. And also because he would stop at every open door and BELLOW his siblings' names, in language that only our family could understand. I did, however, get weary of having to run and grab him every time he turned down a wrong hall (on accident or on purpose!) or ran into a room where some poor teacher was trying to finish up for the day.

And then... the program ran over the regular time slot. So we finally got back to the appropriate place in the school... and we had to wait. And Roo doesn't wait well. (The previous week, by the way, I had arrived at the correct dismissal time, and my kids were the only ones left. And I had to answer questions like, "Why did you come so late, Mommy? Why weren't you here when we got done? Did you forget?")

It feels a little like an understatement to say that I was frazzled by the time that they got dismissed. I think you have probably done that math in your head already.

But what you don't know is that my kids LOVE the after-school science program. And that they come out with the energy one would expect of a person who has chased a Monster drink with a 5-Hour Energy.

They were a little amped up.

"Mommy, guesss what!"

"Mommy, I can't wait to tell you!"

"Mommy, look what we made today!"
"Mommy, my project is hanging in the hall!"

"Mommy, Blake said he'll come over sometime!" (I have never heard of this Blake person. When did we decide to invite him to our house?)

"Mommy!"

"Mommy!"

"MOMMY!"

And as a grabbed Roo's hand for the 10th time in 5 steps, I finally said in as nice a voice as I could muster, "You know, guys, I'm having a hard time listening to you and chasing your brother. I can't talk to anyone until we get into the van."

Good job, Mommy. You handled that like a pro. That should solve all the world's problems.

"Mommy?"

"No. Did you hear what I just said? You have to wait until we get to the van."

Pause.

"Mommy, guess what!"

"Not until we're in the van."

Pause.

"Hey Mommy?"

"Nope. In the van."

Pause.

"Oh, Mommy, I forgot to tell you--"

"NO. Not until we're IN.THE.VAN."

Pause.

"Mommy?"

Look of death.

"Oh yeah."

Finally we reached the magical place where I could buckle Roo in, unload the bundle of things I was carrying, and plop my weary body into a comfy seat.

SIGH.

"OK, guys. We're in the van. I've had a minute to collect my thoughts. Now, what did you want to say?"

Blank stares.

"What do you mean?" (Lamb.)

"I told you guys that I couldn't talk until we were in the van. You wanted to say some things on the way and I told you to wait. Now we're here. What did you want to say?"

Pause. More blank stares.

"I don't think I needed anything. I think it was just Monkey." (Totally not the case.)

Monkey shrugs and says, "I don't know. Guess it wasn't that important."

Oh for the love.

The No (more) Drama Mama, part 1: The Questions

If you follow me on Facebook, you know that I had a post planned for tonight... and then I lost it... from my brain. Yep, it was in my head, and then it was gone. I was left with nothing but a title and a vague feeling of greatness lost.

And now here I am, posting, and you might think that I have found the post that has hidden itself away in a dark corner of my mind. You would be wrong. This isn't it. Instead, this post is born out of my evening--and my last 8 years as a parent.

I know that people typically go to blogs for what they can get: craft ideas, recipes, a good laugh, a thought-provoking read, or even a heart-warming story to make them smile. Tonight, though, I'm hoping that you will come see what you can give.

Tonight I am looking for ideas. Suggestions. Input. HOPE!

Tonight I come to you as a mommy to a little girl entering the tween years. And all the drama that comes with that.

I remember when Lamb was just a little tot, talking to other moms about little girl attitude and little girl drama. And we would say, "If they act like this NOW, what are we going to do when they are 13?"

And now she's 8, and I'm wrestling with the same things I did when she was 2 and 3. What am I going to do with all of this drama?

And more specifically, here is my real question: How do I validate her feelings and let her know that she can talk to me about anything... without feeding into the drama?

To be fair, some of it is on me. I know this. I have very little patience for the mannerisms and tone-of-voice that come with uncomfortable conversations with this girl. The fidgeting and the incomplete (and whiny) sentences ("Wellllllllllllllllllllllll............ it's just.................. I mean........................... sometimes......................... I mean.................... I don't know....................... I just..........................") make my skin crawl. For real. It is just about more than I can handle. Am I alone on this? Is this just my personality, or do other moms have to will themselves past this too?

And once we get past the logistics, there's the content. I fully recognize that an 8-year-old's world is much smaller than mine; therefore things that seem small to me might be big to her. That's the part where I want to validate her feelings and not blow her off. And at the same time, I have a sense that the feelings aren't always genuine--that they may (at least in part) be about attention or getting her way or staying up past bedtime.

So where is the balance? How do you as a mom discern when to "go there" with your daughter and when to say, "that's enough"? How do you keep yourself calm and not go, "This is ridiculous. Go to bed"? (Not that I have ever been temped to say that, of course. Definitely not in the last 15 minutes.)

What are your tips for cutting the drama? Post your comments here or on the Facebook page. Pass this along and ask your friends for their tips. I will compile them--along with some things that I have learned myself (yep, there's one or two bits of wisdom in there)--and post them in a day or so. (But if no one gives me suggestions, I'm going to look rather silly with this post just sitting out there. Come on, help a sister out!)

Binkies, Bunk beds, and Big Boy Chairs: A lesson in letting go

It's a commonly accepted practice that moms get more relaxed in their parenting as time goes on--and as they add more children to their families. Bedtimes are more relaxed, treats are more common, that kind of thing.

I get it. I see it. And I'm not saying I don't see ways that I am more easy-going with this kind of stuff. For instance, this afternoon Roo let himself into the pantry, found the box of graham crackers, and sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor, chomping away--not on ONE graham cracker, mind you, but on several (one bite from this one, one bite from that one, put this one on the ground and pound it a bit, let the dog nibble that one and then take it back and lick it... that sort of thing). This would have been COMPLETELY unacceptable when my older kids were his age, but I was just so darn proud of the kid for doing that whole process himself that I couldn't scold him for it!

In many ways, though, I think I have gotten more uptight, more controlling, more of a worrier. When Lamb was born and one of the grandmas would watch her, they would always ask such respectful questions: "Is it OK to hold her while she sleeps?" "When do you want me to feed her?" Things like that. And I would answer, "You've been a mom a lot longer than I have--whatever you think is fine."

But now I worry. I worry about bedtimes and routines and screen time and... so many things. I feel the need to make sure that we are doing everything "right."

And then came Roo. And he continues to teach me that I need to rethink my idea of "right." And to let.the.heck.go of my worries.

I worried and worried and worried about when he would walk. And now that child runs everywhere.

I cried because the only name he would say was "Daddy." And now he clearly calls each member of our family by name--Lamb, Monkey, Mommy, Daddy, Gram, Nana, AND Papa! And every morning I walk in his room, and I'm greeted with a smile and a "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

So you would think I would have learned my lesson by now, right? He may take his sweet time learning something, but once he's got it, he's GOT IT.

But no. No, I still have to learn over and over again. And he is a willing teacher.

At Roo's open house at the end of August, I asked his teacher if I could send a "binky" with him for naptime. Yep, he's 3 1/2. I had been thinking about getting rid of it for months, but oh. It just seemed so impossible. With Lamb, we went to Build-a-Bear when she was 2 and put the binky in the bear (whom she aptly named "Binky). Then she could snuggle her new friend and know that her binky was close by. It seemed like a good idea, but the first night she asked us to rip the poor animal open and get her binky out. For the next week bedtime was tough, but then everything was back to normal. Not too shabby.

With Monkey, I started telling him that when he was ready to be done, we would put his binky in a gift bag and leave it for the Binky Fairy. She would come while he was sleeping, take the binky for another baby, and leave him with a "big boy present." We had this conversation for several days in a row, and one afternoon I heard him SOBBING up in his bed. When I went to check on him, he sadly handed me the pacifier and said, "All done binky." I--ahem, the Binky Fairy--gave him his present, which made him happy in the moment, but did not make bedtime much easier that night... or the next several to follow.

If that's how the pacifier break went with kids who actually UNDERSTOOD, how was it going to go THIS time? Roo doesn't get abstract concepts or things that are in the future or... well, a lot of things.

But he's 3 1/2. Isn't it time? If I keep letting him use his pacifier, when do I get my "Bad Moms' Club" membership card???

All of this was running through my head as I humbly asked his teacher to give him a binky at naptime. She readily agreed--and also added that she would be happy to withhold it if I wanted to start cutting back.

Hint, hint.

(Don't jump on his teacher. She is fantabulous. She was being kind and gentle--I think she could see my hesitation on the whole thing.)

But then the craziest thing happened. When she would give him his pacifier at school, he would hand it back to her. He didn't want anything to do with it. And he would still sleep!

This was not a one-time deal. It happened the first day... and the second... and the third... and the fourth.

So I decided to do something crazy. I decided I would JUST STOP GIVING IT TO HIM.

And he didn't cry.

And he still went to sleep!

OK, so he didn't go right to sleep. But there was no crying. In fact, I'd hear him in his room, laughing and having a grand old time. And sometimes I'd have to go in and remind him to go "night-night." But eventually he would. He still falls asleep at naptime almost every day, and he still goes to sleep (though sometimes it takes a while) every night.

Can I confess something here? On the rare night that he is really struggling... like a night when he has gone to sleep, but now is restless and waking up over and over... I still give it to him. It's not often, maybe once every week. And it doesn't seem to be ruining him for life.

Do you think maybe, just maybe, I could stop worrying so much?

A few days ago, as I was watching Roo run around before lunch and mentally celebrating my binky victory, my mind turned to the next big "hurdle" I am facing with him: the crib. Yep, he's still in a crib. He doesn't climb out, and since he DOES tend to be awake for a while when I put him to bed... well, quite honestly, I am intimidated to think about trying to get him to stay in his bed. But have I mentioned that he's 3 1/2? And his other buddies with DS his age are in "big boy" beds? And did I happen to mention that I worry a little too much about making the right choices as a parent???

So as I stood there, my joy gradually replaced by more worries and insecurities, Roo came in and said, "Mommy! Mommy! Eat!" I pulled the tray off the high chair and reached to pick him up, but he pulled away and said, "No!"

Then he ran to the dining room table, climbed into a chair, and said, "Eat!"

This boy may take his sweet time, but when he's ready, he's ready. And he doesn't look back.

Take a deep breath. Relax. Go with it.

Stop worrying, Mom. Let.it.go.

The Gift Giver

My husband is a fabulous gift-giver. This is one of my favorite things about him. It's also quite intimidating, when it comes to birthdays and anniversaries and Christmas and such. I always try to have a great idea, because I know that whatever he gets me is going to knock my socks off. From handwritten notes to flowers to the year that he "bought" a penguin (sponsored one in my name at the zoo--I absolutely LOVE penguins) to this year's surprise trip to FLORIDA (yes, a COMPLETE surprise--I didn't know about it until we pulled into the airport!), he amazes me over and over. But the best part is never the actual gift, no matter how great it is. The BEST part is always the look on his face. He is every bit as excited as I am, maybe more. He loves to give gifts.

And now... now, he has passed that along to one of our children.

Every day when the kids get off the bus, Lamb comes in first. We catch up a little, go over the papers in her backpack, get started on the snack... and then Monkey comes in. Always a few minutes behind. And always, ALWAYS bearing a gift. Sometimes it is a dandelion, sometimes a clover, sometimes a leaf, often it is a rock. But every single time, it is given with a look of complete and utter love. THAT is the gift.

My heart has been stolen, not by this rock, but by the hand holding it.

First Day

At our house, we like to play a little game called "High-Low." It's a pretty simple game--we simply go around the table (or around the room, if it's not dinner time) and tell our high and low for the day. I'm sure many of you do the same thing, or something similar. It's a good way to get people talking about what's going on in life.

So today, on the first day of school, I am going to tell you all about my highs and lows...

High: Everyone got up and ready with no complaining! We had a delicious breakfast (waffles, at the kids' request, and scones that my mom made), got the bookbags loaded up, and had plenty of time for pictures. Nana & Papa (my parents) and Gram (my mother-in-law) came to see the kiddos off, too.

 

Low: My babies got swallowed up by a big yellow monster. Two of them, actually.

 

High: Everyone got through the morning tear-free, including Mommy (mostly).

 

Low: When I got back in the house and tried to upload the many, many pictures I had taken, I found out that my memory card was dislodged. I didn't get ONE.SINGLE.PICTURE. :-(

 

High: At least the grandparents had some photos. I have the photos from Gram already (which is why I have some of the morning shots) and am looking forward to getting the shots from my parents as well.

 

High: I got to spend some quality time with two wonderful friends. :-)

High: More work is getting done on my basement! Yay! The painting should be done tomorrow, furniture will be arriving soon, and carpet will be ordered on Thursday.

 

Low: First day of school = first call from the school nurse. She is a lovely person. Last year we talked a LOT because of Monkey's headaches. Today, though, his head was fine--this time she called because he had fallen off the monkey bars and landed on his shoulder. She was calling to tell me to keep an eye on his collarbone, because his range of motion was definitely affected. Fortunately, I could hear him in the background, and he didn't sound upset.

 

High: Everyone came home happy! :-)

High: After-school snack...

Funny: A direct quote from Roo's teacher (in a note she sent home): "He certainly is curious!"

 

High: I shamelessly made the kids redo the morning's photo shoot, which is why we have so many good photos here. :-)

 

Low: Monkey's arm was still hurting when he got home. He could lift it to the side, but not in front of himself. Oddly enough, though, it didn't seem to be bothering him when he was playing--not even when he reenacted the event that led to his injury. ;-)

High: By the time bedtime prayers came around, Monkey and I had a talk about the cost of medical care and dramatizing an injury just so one can get an x-ray. And then he realized that, whaddayaknow, his arm didn't hurt anymore.

 

 Low: As the kids were heading up to bed, Lamb tripped on a dog toy and went down crying. This led to some major overly-tired-and-already-dramatic 8-year-old drama. She started off with, "Life is just so hard when you're in school!" and moved to "Sometimes I just feel like parents don't understand" and then she sobbed, "Today just wasn't very exciting!!!!!" Oh for the love. I think it's time for bed.

High: Everyone is sound asleep, and I am thankful for my kids, their schools & teachers, and the opportunities they have before them. Lunches are packed, kitchen is clean, and now I can relax. And tomorrow I get to hang out with my Roo! :-)

 

 

Thanks for joining us on our first day of school. See you soon!