important reminders for the mama

I can't keep it all in my head anymore.  Work, bills, errands, soccer, gymnastics, preschool, playdates, grocery lists, what to make for dinner, who needs to be where at what time -- which is always followed by who needs to be picked up at what time...and everything else that's supposed to be stored at the ready somewhere in my head.  I try to be organized, I really do, but some things slip through the cracks now and again.

A couple months ago, during a particularly stressful week, I completely forgot about a lunch date with friends.  I was horrified!  I profusely apologized, and I think they forgave me.  Honestly I had no excuse.  I simply forgot.  Too much on my plate I guess.

Both kids have been doing a great job of keeping my on my toes, though.  I get reminders all the time about what I'm supposed to be doing.  Sometimes subtle, most of the time not so much.

The other day I had to make an important call during the day (which I try very hard not to do) and the kids (of course) took advantage of the situation by raiding my craft bins in the spare bedroom.  I kept watch for the most part but had to walk away a couple times because they were squealing and talking loudly and I didn't want to be rude to the person on the other end of the line.  At one point their chatter turned to yelling, and I finished up my phone call to get back to them.  Just then, Liam comes running full-bore out of the spare bedroom, carrying something I couldn't see but knew it was something electrical because of the tell-tale white power cord dragging behind as he made a bee line for an outlet.  I ran after him, but he made it to the outlet first, plugged in the cord as fast as his little hands could manage, and proceeded to insert the tip of a GLUE GUN into his ear!!!  Like it was an ear thermometer!  Talk about heart attack for the mama.  So...the golden reminder of this little "lesson" is:  Don't forget that Liam is TWO and must be supervised at all times.  And believe me, although I did laugh a little after I caught him in the act, I thought about what might have happened had I not caught him.  Those glue guns heat up in no time at all, and if he'd decided to try this little stunt in the bedroom only one minute before, the results could have been horrible.  This event also reminded me that I own a glue gun, which I had completely forgotten.  Note to self:  glue gun needs new storage location.  For now it's up on the highest shelf in the cupboard.

Another reminder this week of an item on my to-do list came from Quinn.  My early riser crept into our bedroom at the crack of 6 am as always, that day dressed in her pajama shirt along with a jean skirt.  I said, "Oh, you're wearing a skirt today?"  Her eyes widened and she sputtered, "MOM!  This was the ONLY pants left in my whole drawer!"  I pulled her close and laughed at her reference to any sort of bottoms as "pants", and also at the fact that the poor girl had no choice but to put on the skirt.  She pushed away from me..."Mom!  This is SERIOUS!  It was the ONLY pants LEFT!"  Reminder:  Unless I want a bare buns girl running around tomorrow, I better do some laundry today.

I'm pretty sure life will continue on this busy pace for awhile.  Meanwhile, I just keep trying to stay on top of it all. My honest feeling is that I can just be confident I'm doing the best that I can. I'm only human. And I am very thankful I've been blessed with two terrific children that keep me busy. Sometimes in the mundane tasks involved with taking care of the to-do list, it's easy to forget. Life without my kids would definitely be less hectic, but I can't imagine that life.

finding some bliss

I took the kids outside today to play in the snow since they were nearly climbing the walls in rebellion of the Winter Blues. 

It was in the midst of the laborious task of dressing the three of us that I considered it might not be worth all the effort.  We put on snowpants, then boots, then mittens, then coats, and THEN mommy still had to get dressed. All the while, Liam is screaming "Outside! Outside! OutSIDE!"

I wished I'd waited until Casey would be home.  But of course I couldn't take back my promise at that point.  So, I took a deep breath and out we went. 

It was terrific to see their sheer joy in just having some time outdoors.  And it turns out I needed it just as much as they did.  It was an opportunity to not think about anything but playing and laughing together.  My beautiful children enjoyed the snow, and I enjoyed my beautiful children. 

These are the moments I will remember always.

first field trip

Quinn (2nd from left) on a field trip to the local fire station, posing with her preschool class and the fire captain.

on peanut butter sandwiches and milkshakes

This week has been a week of earlier than the already horribly early risings of the sweet little Quinn due to the "falling back" rule.  And a week of holy crap it's only 5:30 pm and it feels like 10.  These time changes are evil, you know?

Thankfully I have several friends with children who have confirmed that indeed this week has been painful for them as well. 

As the parents, we groan and yawn and deal with the ramifications of such an insane rule that surely was meant only to disrupt our neat and tidy routine.  The children, however, are expectedly not as well equipped to cope with this change, since they have no clue it has even occurred.  (Read:  Quinn is crabby as hell and complaining all during her waking hours).

Yesterday at lunchtime, after short discussion, the children and I elected to have peanut butter sandwiches.  I can't clearly recall the exact event that preceeded her whine-fest, but anyway there was a whine-fest while I was trying to prepare lunch. 

So I pulled out the ol' not-so-reliable shock statement used by parents to elicit a child's appreciation for food. 

Me:  "You know Quinn, I have something to tell you."

Quinn:  "What Mommy?"

Me:  "There are little children whose parents do not have enough money to buy peanut butter.  Those little children have never even TASTED peanut butter!"

Quinn:  *look of sheer horror*, followed by a tearful "WHY???"  (yes, real tears over such an atrocity.)

Me:  *satisfied to have evoked an emotional response*  "Because, not everyone is as lucky as you are, Quinn.  We should always remember how lucky we are to have nice things like peanut butter."

*********

Tonight Casey tells me a story.  When he picked up Quinn from preschool this afternoon, he brought a milkshake for them to share as a special treat.  (Which by the way she took 1 SECOND to spot when they got into the vehicle).  Back and forth they took turns sipping, with Quinn drinking most of the shake.  Casey drank the last sip. 

Quinn:  (howling with drama)  "DADDY!  You drank ALL of MY milkshake!!!"

Casey:  "Honey, it was our milkshake to share.  There was one tiny sip left and I just finished it.  You got plenty of milkshake."

Quinn:  "Daddy, that is NOT how you are supposed to treat your children."

*********

Wow, seriously?  Back to square one.  This lesson might take a few rounds to sink in.

autumn's blessings

Autumn is here.  The fall season used to be my absolute favorite time of year.  Few things can make me happier than fresh, cool air blowing through the house and the beautiful colors of changing leaves; time for baking cookies and pies, carving pumpkins, and looking forward to the upcoming holiday season.

Then we had kids.  Don't get me wrong, I still love all of those things about this time of year, but it's just not the same. 

This year there was an added element of excitement for the season with Quinn in preschool for the first time.  It was great fun shopping for a backpack and school clothes, even though a little bittersweet as these events mark the beginning of her journey into girlhood. 

BUT.  When you are blessed with children, September and October are daunting months as they provide a nice, cozy, undisturbed harbor for germs.  A cornucopia of germs, if you will.  I should be thankful that in my day and time there are such conveniences as alcohol hand gel and antibacterial wipes for faces and hands as well as household surfaces.  Honestly, I've been using them like a crazy person to avoid the impending doom brought on by lurking viruses and bacteria. 

A couple weeks ago Casey and I had the great opportunity to travel out of town for a couple of kid-free days.  Now I admit I'm not one of those moms who feels horribly guilty once I'm away, or one who needs to call every two hours because I'm worried about my children.  I love them dearly, but I do trust our family as caregivers and cherish time away to rejuvenate.  I believe it makes me a better parent.  My problem is the anticipation of leaving, and an unexplainable severe anxiety that someone will become ill before we leave.  So before our little getaway, I became so worked up about this I nearly became ill myself.  In the end nobody got sick, and we went and had a very nice time.  It's likely this pre-getaway anxiety about sickness will always haunt me as long as my children are small. 

But now the bugs are here.  Poor Liam has been hit the hardest with a never-ending cold, ear infections, and now both kids have been hit with a nasty flu virus.  And I'm quite certain that puke virus is out there waiting its turn.   I hate seeing my children not feeling well.  I hate rearranging schedules, missing work, and paying for daycare I'm not using all because my children are sick.  I also hate that I've spent time and effort disinfecting and making sure cups are not cross-contaminated -- all for nothing.  Who can afford this?  Not I. 

Side story:  Part of Quinn's virus has caused her to speak in a demon-like voice.  The demon has been substituted for her whining voice, and is accompanied by a twisted up scary face.  I'm sure down the line this will be something I can laugh about. 

This week I've spent five full days home with my children without going anywhere except to the clinic twice.  Seriously, how can a person entertain one child and one demon child within the same four walls for that many days?  It isn't possible.  I'm all out of ideas.  Even the illustrious SpongeBob SquarePants has lost his luster this week.  But I must say, I've cuddled and played with my children more in these five days than I have in the last month combined.  That is a blessing, even if in disguise.  We've had some good laughs and good fun amidst the sickness.  If vomit and high fever are what it takes to get some cuddle time, I'll do it once in awhile. 

After this round of the sickies, I do plan on disinfecting-- although I'm not sure why I bother.  I'm not yet hopeless I guess.  After disinfecting, I plan on making time to bake and enjoy the things I've always enjoyed about the season.  We're on the mend, thank God.  And please God, if you're listening, let us stay mended for at least a little while.  It's going to be a long wait for Spring.

a manipulating maneuver

The instant you become a parent, joy and amazement over each and every milestone becomes part of daily living. Your identity is now forever linked with your child’s, and witnessing their ability to learn and grow is one of the most rewarding aspects of parenting. Heartwarming, isn’t it?

Heh. Yep, that sponge housed beneath their cranium sure is porous. I admit I’ve succumbed to those sweet feelings more than a time or two. Those first smiles get me every time. New teeth, first foods, crawling, you know the list.

The present state of affairs in our humble world consists of our daughter who is only weeks away from becoming a preschooler, and her wannabe-toddler brother, who only months ago was my baby. Damn they grow like weeds! Even as my children outgrow their baby ways, those milestones keep-a-coming. And yes, most times these benchmarks are celebrated, photographed, videotaped, facebooked, blogged, emailed, and documented in every way humanly and technologically possible.

Most times, I said. Not sure about your life, but in our home there are certain achievements that we feel less-than-amused about. While we may share these little tidbits with family or friends, these are the types of events we tend to opt out of reporting to the pediatrician at a well visit. “Oh, yes doctor! Liam is walking, running, climbing like a monkey on crack! In fact, the other day when I wasn’t watching him he climbed onto the sofa and nearly scaled the blinds in the living room. Imagine my horror! Thank God I yanked him down before the blinds were damaged!” (Which YES, is really what I was thinking when I pried his sweaty little palms off my expensive window treatments). “Yes, Quinn’s vocabulary is simply flourishing each day! Just the other day we had the television tuned to an action movie on HBO, and she said, ‘Mommy! Daddy! That man just said FUCKER!’” (You guessed it, true story).

Fearless toddlers are meant to test their behavioral and physical boundaries by exploring their environments from floor to window blinds to ceiling. It’s how they learn to act and move in this world. I get that. And from the moment our children can speak, they can learn any word, so I get that too. Child-proofer, conversation-editor, and constant observer are all listed next to bullets under my trusted copy of the Mommy job description.

And beneath those job duties is listed another very important skill that must be honed—(lest you be overtaken by your children beyond the point of no return):

· Master of escape from parental manipulation

Seriously, how can children learn to be so manipulative? And how can we as parents actually fall victim to the manipulation of a three-year-old? Quinn is GOOOODDD at manipulation. Even great, really. She’s got a GIANT bag of tricks that I would love to steal from her to save my soul. Although her “tricks” bug the crap out of me (and often cause me severe anxiety and make me feel like a sucky mother when I give in), I am always impressed by her creativity and persistence.

Which brings me to the inspiration for this blog about spongy intelligence laced with manipulation…this occurred tonight about 15 minutes prior to dinner being ready:

Quinn: Mommy, I really need something small to eat. (Exhibit 1—using the word “small” indicates she is aware that it’s nearly time for dinner, and that my likely answer is NO—a bargaining tool)

Me: No, honey, dinner is almost ready.

Quinn: But my tummy is hurting! (Exhibit 2—feigned illness to elicit sympathy)

Me: No, sweetie. Dinner will make your tummy feel better. Just wait until dinner.

Quinn: But Mo-om, I NEED something, even TINY to eat NOW, because......I GOT A TIRED ARM! (Combining strategies now, Exhibit 1 again, followed by Exhibit 3—feigned injury)

Here is where I burst out laughing…God, this girl is funny! I am just cracking up, and she’s making her bashful face, trying not to smile when she totally realizes she is caught in the act of concocting some fake drama for the sake of a snack. This lasted maybe an instant, after which she snapped back into MASTER MANIPULATOR MODE,

Quinn: Mo-om! I need a snack now! My tired arm is just waiting!

She drives me crazy, but I love her dearly. She didn’t get a snack. She and her tummy ache and tired arm waited for dinner. Somehow by the grace of God her ailments were cured once we ate.

water resistant

I often feel as though I’m struggling to keep my head above water, nearly drowning in my endless sea of parenting, household, and career. One thing’s for sure, I’m never bored. This week has brought a fun new challenge in our world: swimming lessons with the kids. Considering these are the very first swimming lessons for both kids, we chose to do a parent-child swim so we could assist and protect our little fishies-to-be.

Looking in a mirror, Q is the carbon-copy, feminine version of her dad. Her eyes, lips, body shape, and even her fingernails don’t lie. She is daddy’s girl. But her brain, on the other hand— she got that from me.

Our personalities are so similar it’s almost frightening. She's dramatic, sensitive, opinionated, shy but outspoken, always under-stimulated but leery of change, and amazingly creative yet in need of direction. I’m thinking it was because our personalities are so alike that I assumed she would love the water from the start as I did when I was a child.

Ah, but for some reason I forgot the essential rule of parenting my Q: NEVER assume anything, because undoubtedly the unfortunate assumer will be thwarted. Side note: I looked up ‘thwarted’ to be sure it was the most accurate terminology to describe my never ending struggle. Thwart (verb): 1 – to oppose successfully, 2 – to frustrate or baffle. Yep, that’s the right word.

So, our first lesson began with my darling girl squealing, “I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared!” the very second our toes touched the water in the zero-depth entry to the pool. I assumed that as our lessons went on, her confidence would increase. [Yes, the joke's on yours truly].

Sometime during the first lesson, Q slipped a little somehow, and her head accidentally went [barely] underwater. After a small sputter and cough, she screamed and cried for about one minute. After that, she was fine. She even told us later that night that she thought the little mishap was “fun”. Ummm…okay.

Before our second lesson, we were informed by our sweetie that she would not be going underwater EVER again. And boy has she achieved that goal! Mission accomplished--by clutching our necks in a nearly unbreakable death grip. And again, with the "I'm scared!", only this time in more of a shrieking manner, followed by “I WANT TO GET OUT! GET ME OUT!” Thank God the pool is noisy and there are a ton of kids doing lessons at the same time, so only half of the parents (whose children, by the way, are all swimming like fish) were staring at us.

Another side note: the death grip and shrieking were accompanied once by a BITE on my chest that I think surprised Q as much as it did me. I can’t explain why she did this, and I think it was involuntary but worth mentioning to emphasize her ghastly fear.

Oh dear. Seven more lessons to go, and at this rate we’ve taken a huge step back each time. Looking on the positive side, she still looks forward to going each night, so at least we have that. And by the way, little 15 month old L love, love, LOVES swimming lessons. He is instantly calmed by the water. He laughs throughout the lessons, and shows not the least bit of fear or ambivalence. The child is a dream in the pool.

So what can I learn from all of this? Yes, I need to stop assuming anything. And I suppose I’m going to have to be patient for her trust and confidence to develop. Maybe while I wait, I should try to trust in my family, my friends, and my God to build my own confidence—as a wife, mother, and nurse—and somehow in the process ward off my own “can’t keep my head above water” feeling. Either that, or I just get crazier.