OR WHAT NOT TO SAY TO A MOTHER OF YOUNG CHILDREN
I have a pet peeve. It starts when people sigh a deep sigh and either think to themselves or say out loud, “Isn’t there anything else in your life besides your kids???”
---long pause to choose my words carefully---
If by anything else, do you mean that free time that is not at night because
I am busy getting up to quiet a fussy baby at 10pm
or comfort two toddlers from waking up scared at midnight
or being wakened by my son crawling into my bed after a bad dream at 1am
or helping two toddlers use the potty at 3am
or getting up with the now rested baby at 6am,
and which doesn’t happen during the day because there are…
meals to fix
and diapers to change
and kids to dress and undress and dress again
and imaginations to foster
and little self-esteems to reinforce
and chub to kiss,
and which doesn’t happen at naptime because…
there is much convincing to be done of the need for sleep
and dishes to do
and laundry to be done
and vacuuming and folding,
and which isn't at dinner time or during bathtime or story time or bedtime, and now we are back to nighttime.
Remind me again. At which point during my life with four babies is there supposed to be some luxurious thing called free time? And at what point do my children take a back seat to this other “independent and empowering” life I’m supposed to have where I “discover myself” and have "me time"? The answer is simple. They don’t.
I’ll continue to write about my life, which means writing about my children. And someday in a few years, there will be more free time and as a result, a greater variety of subject matter. But for today, I'm not less of a person for being an all-consumed mother. I'm better for it. No really.
And to those who sigh those deep sighs of boredom, my thought is, “In order for you to have survived your first years, someone somewhere was all-consumed with you.” And at some point in life, most people are called on to care for someone else, either child or employee or student or ailing parent. Most people come to a place in life where they are required to put their needs on hold in order to meet the needs of another. I think God does it on purpose. I think he likes to build our character.
And I, my friend, am up to my chin in character building.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
First Day of School!!!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Why I Dread Walmart
OR "LOOK! MOMMY CAN BREATH FIRE!"
This weekend was typical. Let me give ya the run down of a typical Saturday...
First, we have a “special” breakfast. Special for the kids because it’s full of sugar. Special for me because I don’t have to argue with anyone to eat it.
Then it’s off to Walmart. The kids are in tow, so I mentally make a note of the 5 things I must have and remind myself again that anything else is totally optional depending on how long I can last without becoming that screaming, red-faced, fire-breathing, “Come Here Right Now!!!!” mom. I have my pre-shopping pep talk with the kids where we review the three rules that haven’t changed in the last six years:
1. No Touchy Touchy
2. No Running
3. Stay Close to Mommy
Each child dutifully repeats these to me and I am lulled into a false sense of peace by their big eyes and reassuring smiles. Enough false peace to get out of the van and go in. Then I tell them, “OK guys, we need milk. Who can show me where the milk is?” Before I even finish my question, the kids are touching, running, and nowhere near me.
I begin chasing them down and grab items as I pass them in my pursuit. If you’ve ever seen old episodes of the game show where shoppers get a 1-minute shopping spree in the grocery store then you’ve got the idea of what this looks like. I kiss the baby’s head every two seconds to make sure she’s still in the basket and to thank her for not being old enough yet to add to the madness. I touch the back wall of the store wondering if I’m shopping or running suicides. Running suicides I decide.
My oldest is in competition with the other two to see who can do the most cartwheels down the aisle and takes out a full display of soup cans and an old lady in his effort. Humiliated, I apologize, but have to keep moving to catch him, which is lucky because these old southern ladies have some fight in them.
Someone pats my hand and says to me for the ninth time this morning, "You sure do have your hands full. Bless your heart." Which, translated in southern, means get your children out of here... now!
I herd my offspring to the checkout counter and then silently begin to pray that the person in front of me will go faster. Not for my sake. For theirs. They have no idea what 8 curious little hands will do to their groceries. I wonder if the mom in front of me has gum in her purse, because if she does, my daughter who shall remain nameless, will pick pocket that junk in 2 seconds flat.
Finally, I face the cashier who glances at my shirt, which somehow has multiple stains on it although it was clean two hours ago, sees my red, fire-breathing face, and silently sums me up in her mind. She tries to move quickly and I try to reassure her (as the children totally dismantle the strategically placed, child-height display right next to the cash register), but we both know she wants me out of there as badly as I want to be gone. Finally, we make it to the safety of our van again.
This stands in bold contrast to some of the fun times I've had this summer, but I know someday I'll look back on these "typical" weekends and laugh. And the moment the kids get old enough to walk through the store calmly, I'll be blogging about how sweet their baby days were.
Wishing you the magic of enjoying the moment.
This weekend was typical. Let me give ya the run down of a typical Saturday...
First, we have a “special” breakfast. Special for the kids because it’s full of sugar. Special for me because I don’t have to argue with anyone to eat it.
Then it’s off to Walmart. The kids are in tow, so I mentally make a note of the 5 things I must have and remind myself again that anything else is totally optional depending on how long I can last without becoming that screaming, red-faced, fire-breathing, “Come Here Right Now!!!!” mom. I have my pre-shopping pep talk with the kids where we review the three rules that haven’t changed in the last six years:
1. No Touchy Touchy
2. No Running
3. Stay Close to Mommy
Each child dutifully repeats these to me and I am lulled into a false sense of peace by their big eyes and reassuring smiles. Enough false peace to get out of the van and go in. Then I tell them, “OK guys, we need milk. Who can show me where the milk is?” Before I even finish my question, the kids are touching, running, and nowhere near me.
I begin chasing them down and grab items as I pass them in my pursuit. If you’ve ever seen old episodes of the game show where shoppers get a 1-minute shopping spree in the grocery store then you’ve got the idea of what this looks like. I kiss the baby’s head every two seconds to make sure she’s still in the basket and to thank her for not being old enough yet to add to the madness. I touch the back wall of the store wondering if I’m shopping or running suicides. Running suicides I decide.
My oldest is in competition with the other two to see who can do the most cartwheels down the aisle and takes out a full display of soup cans and an old lady in his effort. Humiliated, I apologize, but have to keep moving to catch him, which is lucky because these old southern ladies have some fight in them.
Someone pats my hand and says to me for the ninth time this morning, "You sure do have your hands full. Bless your heart." Which, translated in southern, means get your children out of here... now!
I herd my offspring to the checkout counter and then silently begin to pray that the person in front of me will go faster. Not for my sake. For theirs. They have no idea what 8 curious little hands will do to their groceries. I wonder if the mom in front of me has gum in her purse, because if she does, my daughter who shall remain nameless, will pick pocket that junk in 2 seconds flat.
Finally, I face the cashier who glances at my shirt, which somehow has multiple stains on it although it was clean two hours ago, sees my red, fire-breathing face, and silently sums me up in her mind. She tries to move quickly and I try to reassure her (as the children totally dismantle the strategically placed, child-height display right next to the cash register), but we both know she wants me out of there as badly as I want to be gone. Finally, we make it to the safety of our van again.
This stands in bold contrast to some of the fun times I've had this summer, but I know someday I'll look back on these "typical" weekends and laugh. And the moment the kids get old enough to walk through the store calmly, I'll be blogging about how sweet their baby days were.
Wishing you the magic of enjoying the moment.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Bits of My Weekend - Vol. V
Weekends can be five days long right? Did you say “no”? I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that and talk about the last five days as though they were all a weekend anyway. It all started here...
... at the Charlotte airport. Apparently, I did something right in a past life because I got the best present. There’s a person out there who, without being glib or sarcastic, I can honestly say is one of the most amazing, inspiring, encouraging , and stinkin’ hilarious people I’ve ever met and has remained consistently so through more years than I want to count… Evita. (We are not even going to discuss how she is also gorgeous even after having two kids, because it should be illegal. Not everyone can pull that off. I know I can’t. She can. Whateva. I’ll forgive her for it.) She left her kids at home and came to visit for a couple days of freedom and fun. And it was.
Evita, you should know, is an a-ma-zing cook. If you are ever invited to her home… go. Run, in fact. She made dinner one night that involved chicken curry and basmati rice and homemade chutney. (Excuse me, I started drooling just typing it). I would love to show a picture of it but, as fast as I am, this is all I could get…

We got pampered and ate delicious food and hung out in not one, but three cities in three different states. Aiken in SC, Augusta in GA, and Charlotte in NC. It was hard work but somebody had to do it. My favorite was Amelie's in Charlotte and this place in Augusta...

To see lots of pictures, visit her blog.
We also went to see SALT with Angelina Jolie. Let me say that, years ago, when Alias was on TV, I was a HUGE fan. While the less-than-mind-bending plot may not inspire awe, this movie filled the Alias-sized hole in me. And fueled my workouts for at least a week. (I want to jump up on a wall before laying the smack down like that. Oh yeah. )
In the end, I have to say what everybody always says. I don't do that enough. And I need to do it again. Life should always be that fun. Can I get an amen?
... at the Charlotte airport. Apparently, I did something right in a past life because I got the best present. There’s a person out there who, without being glib or sarcastic, I can honestly say is one of the most amazing, inspiring, encouraging , and stinkin’ hilarious people I’ve ever met and has remained consistently so through more years than I want to count… Evita. (We are not even going to discuss how she is also gorgeous even after having two kids, because it should be illegal. Not everyone can pull that off. I know I can’t. She can. Whateva. I’ll forgive her for it.) She left her kids at home and came to visit for a couple days of freedom and fun. And it was.
Evita, you should know, is an a-ma-zing cook. If you are ever invited to her home… go. Run, in fact. She made dinner one night that involved chicken curry and basmati rice and homemade chutney. (Excuse me, I started drooling just typing it). I would love to show a picture of it but, as fast as I am, this is all I could get…
We got pampered and ate delicious food and hung out in not one, but three cities in three different states. Aiken in SC, Augusta in GA, and Charlotte in NC. It was hard work but somebody had to do it. My favorite was Amelie's in Charlotte and this place in Augusta...

To see lots of pictures, visit her blog.
We also went to see SALT with Angelina Jolie. Let me say that, years ago, when Alias was on TV, I was a HUGE fan. While the less-than-mind-bending plot may not inspire awe, this movie filled the Alias-sized hole in me. And fueled my workouts for at least a week. (I want to jump up on a wall before laying the smack down like that. Oh yeah. )
In the end, I have to say what everybody always says. I don't do that enough. And I need to do it again. Life should always be that fun. Can I get an amen?
Monday, July 19, 2010
Bits of My Weekend - Vol. IV
Summer is slowly passing. Someone said, “Can you believe half of July is already gone?” I say, “God’s mercy is great.” Growing up in the land of perpetual summer (Phoenix) taught me one thing… just hide in the pool until it’s over. My family likes that idea too so that’s what we do. And all we did this weekend. And when the cold water in the pool suddenly feels luke warm, we add popsicles… without getting out of the pool. It looks like this…

May your freezer always be full in July.
And to find people who may actually be doing something exciting in July, check out other Bits of My Weekends.
May your freezer always be full in July.
And to find people who may actually be doing something exciting in July, check out other Bits of My Weekends.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Toddlers
OR THE CHUB EFFECT
Toddlers have chub e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. They have chubby tummies, chubby legs, chubby hands, and chubby cheeks on both ends. And they use this chub in the same way criminals use deadly weapons – to get anything they want. If used correctly, the toddler chub effect can make grown men cry. Toddlers would rather plaster the walls with their food than eat it. They’d rather flush anything down the toilet than actually use it (especially cell phones). And they’d rather be naked all the time – the better to use their chub. Toddlers hate car seats. Toddlers like to run and scream… at home, in the store, in the car and get very angry when said running is impeded by said car seat. Toddlers have big eyes that watch everything you do. They will ignore the thing you are teaching them by endless repetition and immediately repeat the cuss word you say once. Toddlers do everything with all their heart which is why it is utterly impossible to give them anything less than all of yours.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Three Year Olds
OR THE TASMANIAN DEVIL WITH A HALO
Three year olds can’t say their “s”s. Three year olds have split personalities. One moment, they are an angel from God, sent down to smile that sweet smile and bring you joy. The next they are tearing your kitchen apart and throwing tantrums. Three year olds have no concept of danger. They frequently lean too far over the railing and reach for open flames leaving you to breathlessly save their life multiple times daily. Three year olds get tired every afternoon but fight naps in the same way a cat fights being put into the bathtub. Three year olds will embarrass you at every important moment. They will always repeat your cheeky comments to your mother-in-law and call your neighbor fat. They will be potty trained one day and pee in the bed the next because it’s what they do. Three year olds still have chubby fingers but have lost those chubby baby cheeks. Three year olds need to do everything themselves even though they can’t and when they bump up against their own limitations, or yours should you be so brave… meltdown. And at the end of the day, you will find that you have switched roles. While for the first two years, they were completely dependent on you, they now think that they do not need you at all, but you, on the other hand, are completely unable to live without them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)