In August I visited my dear friend, Gretchen, in Florida. Without the kids (or husband). Wowzuhs! You want to talk about relaxing??
We ate fabulous seafood, we read books, we laid out at the beach, we had drinks, we watched TV, we went to the bathroom [wait for it...] alone! It was a little bit of heaven on earth.
And now I am paying for it.
Well, not really paying for it, just serving my time the way Aaron did when I was gone. He and his mom are currently taking a 5-day trip to San Francisco. They do this every once in a blue moon. I think it's sweet that they get along so well and have that special time alone. I thought it was sweeter before we had kids, but I digress...
So, tonight I am fantasizing. About chocolate. Oh how I want some of that sweet, brown goodness right now! You'd think that the Twix bars I devoured while the kids were drying off from their baths would suffice. You'd be wrong.
The sad thing is that they weren't even my Twix bars. They were Maddie's! Oh the shame! Even as I type this, I am secretly hoping Aaron won't read this particular post. He brought them home for her the other night.
[Cue the excuses.] Okay, that kid eats wayyy too much sugar as it is. She has a stash up in her room that she doesn't even touch! (I'm starting to wonder if she's really my biological child.) She is more excited about the receiving-a-gift aspect of her candy than the actual candy itself. She didn't even know it was still up on the counter. (Nevermind the fact she's too short to see on top of the counter.) If it really mattered to her, she would have asked for it by now. Right? Right???
I am quite the opposite of Maddie. When I'm feigning [see Urban Dictionary definition] for some sugar, I do not care whether or not it is a gift. In fact, it's origin does not concern me at all. For example, that half-eaten, 4-day old chocolate Easter bunny? Fair game. "Your bunny? Oh honey, Mommy had to get rid of it. You know we start to get ants this time of year!" Notice I didn't say how Mommy disposed of said bunny.
I realize I sound downright evil at this point, but I don't think you realize the extent of my sugar addiction. Even Dr. Oz says sugar is highly addictive. Look it up!
It doesn't help that Aaron and I recently went on this health kick and got rid of everything, and I mean everything, good in the house. The only sugar available is in the bag (for baking) or honey (which doesn't even really count as far as I'm concerned).
So here I am, 2 Twix bars with a heavy side of guilt later. All of my justifications aren't really helping. And I'm still craving chocolate.
This is my fantasy (and final confession for the night):
I set the baby monitor up in the middle of the house (to capture any sound). I crank the receiver way up. I dial the home phone with my cell phone and set the home phone next to the receiver (so I can hear any noise they make in my cell phone). Then I hop in the van, speed 1.4 miles to the neighborhood Walmart, buy loads of candy bars and speed back home before anyone even notices I'm gone.
Seriously, does that not sound brilliant?? *Sigh* If only it were legal.
***UPDATE***
Upon reading this, some concerned friends thought I actually abandoned the children in search of chocolate. I assure you, it was merely a fantasy. I have not left them...yet.
9/27/12
9/12/12
Not Safe
I am plagued with questions. All. Day. Long.
No, I am not sitting around philosophically pondering the universe. I am not the one posing the questions at all.
Instead, I am surrounded by a constant stream of inquiries flowing from tiny mouths. And all the questions seem to start with the same word: mom.
"Mom, can I climb up this [door frame]?"
"Mom, can we light some fireworks, and I can I hold 10 sparklers at one time?"
"Mom, how high can I climb up that tree?"
"Mom, can we throw rocks at the house?"
More often than not, they are seeking to obtain permission for dangerous activities.
Sometimes I cringe at the mere mention of my name [mom]. I know that 9 times out of 10 I will have to decline the request. I don't want to say "no" all the time, so often I try to reframe the request into an acceptable activity. "Well, you may throw rocks at the tree."
Unfortunately, Parker is catching on to this tactic pretty quickly. Once he realizes I am essentially saying "no" to his initial request, it's game. on.
Questioning: "Why can't I?" All of my reasons are ignored.
Bargaining: "But I'll be careful." Logical counter-arguments, dismissed.
Foul play: "Dad would let me do it." Ooh, now he's really pushing it.
I resort to the age old: "Because I'm your mother and I said so!"
Uggghhhh!
Recently I decided to change my tactics and institute some experiential learning. Read on...
The other day Parker asked if we could build a fort. Sure. I helped him secure the big green blanket to the couch, the chair, the coat rack, etc. Then I pulled out the camera because forts = fun in our house. Even Jack gets in the mix.
"Can I stand on the top of the couch and jump onto the top of the fort?" Parker asked. Sorely tempted to recite a litany of reasons why that would be a bad idea, I stifled a sigh, bit my tongue, and nodded slowly. "Let's see what happens."
Parker's eyes were as wide a saucers. He looked at me uncertainly. Did mom just say "yes"? The first time?
"Why don't we put some pillows underneath first," I asked causally. As I arranged the pillows and moved Jack a safe distance away, Parker eyed the fort suspiciously. "Is this gonna be safe?"
I looked him in the eye. "What do you think?" I asked. He's a bright kid, surely he can reason through this one. We have hardwood floors for Pete's sake!
"Yeah!" Then again, maybe not.
As he climbed to the top of the couch I tried to assure myself this was not reckless parenting. It was experiential learning, right? I held my breath...
Wheeeee!
BAM! Parker scrambled up from the now-collapsed fort. He looked absolutely shocked as he rubbed his sore backside. "Well that wasn't safe at all!" His surprised tone held just a hint of accusation.
A little demon popped up on one of my shoulders. "Really!?" it asked in mock surprise. Meanwhile, the angel on the other side was sadly shaking his head, "For shame, Jessie!"
Eyes wide, using my best "golly-gee" tone, I said, "Well I guess we learned a lot today, huh, Bud?"
Parker nodded emphatically. "Yeah! Jumping off the top of couch onto the top of the fort not a good idea!"
I nodded in agreement and quickly turned away to hide my smile. I didn't have to say "no," and he learned a valuable lesson in a [relatively] painless way. SCORE!
"Mom," Parker's voice interrupted my moment of victory, "Can we add some more pillows underneath and jump from the seat of the couch?"
*Sigh.*
No, I am not sitting around philosophically pondering the universe. I am not the one posing the questions at all.
Instead, I am surrounded by a constant stream of inquiries flowing from tiny mouths. And all the questions seem to start with the same word: mom.
"Mom, can I climb up this [door frame]?"
"Mom, can we light some fireworks, and I can I hold 10 sparklers at one time?"
"Mom, how high can I climb up that tree?"
"Mom, can we throw rocks at the house?"
More often than not, they are seeking to obtain permission for dangerous activities.
Unfortunately, Parker is catching on to this tactic pretty quickly. Once he realizes I am essentially saying "no" to his initial request, it's game. on.
Questioning: "Why can't I?" All of my reasons are ignored.
Bargaining: "But I'll be careful." Logical counter-arguments, dismissed.
Foul play: "Dad would let me do it." Ooh, now he's really pushing it.
I resort to the age old: "Because I'm your mother and I said so!"
Uggghhhh!
Recently I decided to change my tactics and institute some experiential learning. Read on...
The other day Parker asked if we could build a fort. Sure. I helped him secure the big green blanket to the couch, the chair, the coat rack, etc. Then I pulled out the camera because forts = fun in our house. Even Jack gets in the mix.
"Can I stand on the top of the couch and jump onto the top of the fort?" Parker asked. Sorely tempted to recite a litany of reasons why that would be a bad idea, I stifled a sigh, bit my tongue, and nodded slowly. "Let's see what happens."
Parker's eyes were as wide a saucers. He looked at me uncertainly. Did mom just say "yes"? The first time?
"Why don't we put some pillows underneath first," I asked causally. As I arranged the pillows and moved Jack a safe distance away, Parker eyed the fort suspiciously. "Is this gonna be safe?"
I looked him in the eye. "What do you think?" I asked. He's a bright kid, surely he can reason through this one. We have hardwood floors for Pete's sake!
"Yeah!" Then again, maybe not.
As he climbed to the top of the couch I tried to assure myself this was not reckless parenting. It was experiential learning, right? I held my breath...
Wheeeee!
A little demon popped up on one of my shoulders. "Really!?" it asked in mock surprise. Meanwhile, the angel on the other side was sadly shaking his head, "For shame, Jessie!"
Eyes wide, using my best "golly-gee" tone, I said, "Well I guess we learned a lot today, huh, Bud?"
Parker nodded emphatically. "Yeah! Jumping off the top of couch onto the top of the fort not a good idea!"
I nodded in agreement and quickly turned away to hide my smile. I didn't have to say "no," and he learned a valuable lesson in a [relatively] painless way. SCORE!
"Mom," Parker's voice interrupted my moment of victory, "Can we add some more pillows underneath and jump from the seat of the couch?"
*Sigh.*
9/8/12
Helpers
Older, because, well, very young children are not particularly helpful when a newborn arrives on the scene. They may have a fit of jealous rage and pinch the baby while it nurses. They may initially comply with your request to fetch a diaper only to lose focus halfway across the room when the toy shelf beckons. They still need a "wipe," a drink, toy, a [you-name-it]. They have no concept of quiet, especially when baby is napping.
Okay, maybe not a breeze, but there are aspects that become immeasurably easier. For example: I can cook a meal now. It may not be gourmet, but I can literally follow a recipe, prep the ingredients, and cook a real meal. In years past, if I tried to make dinner and a baby woke early from nap, I would rush upstairs (unable to bear the thought of my child alone, awake, bored or scared in a dark room) and rescue said child. Then I would try, unsuccessfully, to finish cooking with a baby on my hip. (Chef's knives, hot stoves, and babies do not mix.)
These days, I will be cooking dinner with Parker and Maddie playing nearby. When Jack wakes from his nap and starts to cry, I simply ask, "Who would like to check on Jack and keep him company until I can come up?"
"I WILL!" they both cry and bolt up the stairs.
CONFESSION: One of my guilty pleasures is to tune into the monitor and eavesdrop on the three of them. I love hearing the door creak open. "Hi Jackie!" Giggles, scuffing and scraping (as they climb onto the side of the crib), tinkling toys. "Mommy will be right here." "Wanna play?"
One afternoon I allowed myself some extra time in the kitchen. I hadn't heard any crying and assumed all was well. I'll never forget walking into Jack's room and wondering where all the toys had gone. Then I looked over at his crib...
I ran over with my heart in my throat. He was still so little. He couldn't even sit up yet. What if he had suffocated?? What had I done?!
Then there he was, hidden among pile of toys, happily playing with a plush block. Whew! What was that thing I said about parenting being a breeze? Yeah, scratch that.
Even with our minor scares (like finding Jack at the top of the outdoor playhouse because he'd followed Parker up the ladder), it really is great having lots of kids. Parker and Maddie are big helpers, and I am one blessed mama!
8/31/12
Carefree
Tonight as we were driving home from a birthday party, we passed a familiar property. Aaron stopped the car in the middle of the road and began to back up.
"What are you doing?" I asked, alarmed. I scanned the road behind us and saw that it was clear. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned my attention back to Aaron.
"Look," he said, angling his head toward the window.
"No!" I gasped. A heap of rubbish littered the lawn of where a beautiful old mansion stood just days before. "That was supposed to be our house! Our grandchildren were going to visit us there!"
Aaron shook his head and laughed. We could never afford such a place, and clearly, it would have required so much work to renovate, someone thought it better to simply have it demolished. Owning it was just a pipe dream, but it made me sad nonetheless.
"What? What's going on?" Parker asked anxiously from the backseat.
"Oh nothing, honey. They just tore down that old house."
"But why?" he asked, bottom lip quivering.
Aaron shot me a look. The why-did-you-have-to-be-so-dramatic, great-now-he's really-upset look.
"Parker, mommy was just joking. We weren't really going to live there. It was unsafe, so they had to tear it down."
He sat back relieved. I did, too. Whew!
Parker is such a sensitive little guy sometimes. He worries about a lot of things. Is his hair sticking up or down, what if he doesn't choose the absolute best toy at the Dollar Tree, what if he accidentally walked in on someone using the bathroom, etc. He gets upset if he sees cartoon characters get bullied.
While I appreciate his sensitivity, especially when it comes to the treatment of other children, at times, I find myself worrying about him. Is his skin thick enough? Will he be bullied? Will he have trouble with anxiety?
In answer to my concerns, God gave me the perfect Bible verse tonight. While I recognized the reference, the verse seemed brand new to me this evening. I was reading in the Message version (not the NIV which I usually read), and the words just leapt off the page.
First let me share the NIV verse: 1 Peter 5:7 Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
Now here is the Message version:
Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you.
What joy is summed up in that little verse! First, I can live carefree before God. Carefree. The word conjures up images of Maddie jumping and twirling around in the sunshine, of Parker stooping to watch a line of ants march across the driveway.
I live before God. He is watching me, interacting with me. He is very interested in my little life.
God is most careful with me. I picture this gigantic, powerful, creator God cradling me in the palm of His enormous hand, lifting me to His eye-level, and smiling. With hands that were strong enough to mould the mountain, he ever so gently knitted me together in my mother's womb.
"Most careful" describes the way a parent cradles a soft, helpless, precious baby. I remember dressing Jack for the very first time in the hospital. Knowing just how sensitive his skin must feel and how frail his little arms and legs were, I was most careful as I gently guided his arms and legs into his clothing. How comforting to think of my big God handling me in the same manner!
The best part is knowing that God's love and care extends to everyone. He's got us all covered. I don't need to worry about Parker. God will be most careful with Parker, too. He will invite Parker to live a carefree life, in His presence. I can't wait for the morning when I can share this powerful little verse with my sweet little boy!
8/24/12
Craziness
Long after we'd tucked the kids in bed, I heard little feet padding across my floor. I looked up from my book to find Maddie at the foot of my bed, grinning sheepishly.
"Maddie..." I started in my warning tone.
"I just wanted to say goodnight!" Followed quickly by, "What are you reading? Can I come up? I promise I won't talk while you read your Bible. I'll wait patiently!"
She was just so darned cute, of course I couldn't say no. There was plenty of room on the bed, as Aaron had fallen asleep on the couch, watching T.V.
"Oh, okay," I sighed, secretly grinning.
Though there was ample room for her to enter another way, she awkwardly climbed over me to get into bed, a tangled mess of arms and legs. We were both giggling by the time she settled under the covers.
She lay beside me and propped herself up on one arm. "Are you reading your Bible?"
"No, it's a book about Bible stories, but it's not the Bible. Hush now so I can read."
Out of the corner of my eye I could see her staring intently at my face.
After a few minutes, she asked, "When are you gonna start readin'?"
"I am reading."
"No!" Pointing to her lips, "Wif your mouf."
"Oh, you mean out loud?"
"No," she replied thoughtfully. "You can read quietwee."
"Oh Maddie," I laughed, "I am reading. I am reading with my eyes."
She gave me a quizzical look.
I pointed to the words and then to my eyes. "I read the words with my eyes and then they go into my head," I explained.
She paused, cocked her head to the side and cracked up. Finally shaking her head and still laughing, she informed me, "Mommy, that's just craziness!"
Who knew reading could be so entertaining?
"Maddie..." I started in my warning tone.
"I just wanted to say goodnight!" Followed quickly by, "What are you reading? Can I come up? I promise I won't talk while you read your Bible. I'll wait patiently!"
She was just so darned cute, of course I couldn't say no. There was plenty of room on the bed, as Aaron had fallen asleep on the couch, watching T.V.
"Oh, okay," I sighed, secretly grinning.
Though there was ample room for her to enter another way, she awkwardly climbed over me to get into bed, a tangled mess of arms and legs. We were both giggling by the time she settled under the covers.
She lay beside me and propped herself up on one arm. "Are you reading your Bible?"
"No, it's a book about Bible stories, but it's not the Bible. Hush now so I can read."
Out of the corner of my eye I could see her staring intently at my face.
After a few minutes, she asked, "When are you gonna start readin'?"
"I am reading."
"No!" Pointing to her lips, "Wif your mouf."
"Oh, you mean out loud?"
"No," she replied thoughtfully. "You can read quietwee."
"Oh Maddie," I laughed, "I am reading. I am reading with my eyes."
She gave me a quizzical look.
I pointed to the words and then to my eyes. "I read the words with my eyes and then they go into my head," I explained.
She paused, cocked her head to the side and cracked up. Finally shaking her head and still laughing, she informed me, "Mommy, that's just craziness!"
Who knew reading could be so entertaining?
8/22/12
Guilthood (a.k.a. Motherhood)
A friend recently posted on my Facebook wall: it was nice chatting... sorry I had to go so soon. it's all my fault, i keep the kids up too late and then they behave badly.
I replied: of course it's all your fault. everything is your fault. you are a mom. i think instead of motherhood, it should be called guilthood. i tend to feel guilty about something all the time. ;) miss you. good to catch up for a few minutes!
I was joking, but only half. I do feel guilty quite often. Guilty that my kitchen floor is sticky. Guilty that Jack's diaper has to sag before I will get around to changing it. Guilty that Maddie spends untold hours alone in her room creating elaborate scenarios involving Polly Pockets and plastic horses. Guilty that I didn't read that book Parker requested because it was past bedtime and I was wiped out.
I feel guilty that I checked my Facebook home page 3 (okay 7) times in a single day. I feel guilty that I finished a magazine article in the bathroom (which took much longer than the bathroom trip required). I feel guilty when I don't have dinner ready when Aaron gets home.
I'm not practicing handwriting with the kids as I'd planned this summer. I'm not consistently crafting with them. I'm not even consistently bathing them! I know, I know, some of you are gasping. I'm just trying to keep it real here. (They don't go more than a few days without a bath, sheesh!)
I struggle with guilt. I think, as parents, most of us do. I just hope we can quit. Maybe together even...Hi, my name is Jessie and I'm...
But seriously, guilt is not very productive. It only serves to make us feel badly.
I even struggled with guilt B.C. [before children]. Perhaps it was that "good ole Catholic guilt" my mom likes to joke about, perhaps it's just my personality. I don't know. Anyway, I was talking with my dear friend, Danielle, about it one day.
I'll never forget. She looked me square in the eye and said, "Jess, guilt is not from God."
Say what? Now wait a second. Wasn't that how He got us to turn around and shape up?
Nope. He uses conviction for that purpose. Conviction is that nagging feeling you get when you suspect you are doing something wrong. It is the Holy Spirit alerting you that your behavior is at odds with God's will. Repent, listen, and obey, and that's that. Conviction leads to change; guilt leads to anxiety and despair.
Wow! How had I forgotten that revelation? Did I somehow think it didn't apply to moms? Sometimes I think we need to hear it more than anyone. When we are scared we are ruining a generation because we made mac-n-cheese for three days in a row or because our child watched that extra cartoon, we need our Father to help us see the bigger picture.
When we stop, pray, and listen, God can gently reveal the areas where we need improvement. He can also offer us peace and rest, allowing us to let the small stuff go. It's my prayer tonight I can turn off my inner critic and hear my loving Father instead.
Matthew 11:28-30 Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. "Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you shall find rest for your souls. "For My yoke is easy, and My load is light.
I replied: of course it's all your fault. everything is your fault. you are a mom. i think instead of motherhood, it should be called guilthood. i tend to feel guilty about something all the time. ;) miss you. good to catch up for a few minutes!
I was joking, but only half. I do feel guilty quite often. Guilty that my kitchen floor is sticky. Guilty that Jack's diaper has to sag before I will get around to changing it. Guilty that Maddie spends untold hours alone in her room creating elaborate scenarios involving Polly Pockets and plastic horses. Guilty that I didn't read that book Parker requested because it was past bedtime and I was wiped out.
I feel guilty that I checked my Facebook home page 3 (okay 7) times in a single day. I feel guilty that I finished a magazine article in the bathroom (which took much longer than the bathroom trip required). I feel guilty when I don't have dinner ready when Aaron gets home.
I'm not practicing handwriting with the kids as I'd planned this summer. I'm not consistently crafting with them. I'm not even consistently bathing them! I know, I know, some of you are gasping. I'm just trying to keep it real here. (They don't go more than a few days without a bath, sheesh!)
I struggle with guilt. I think, as parents, most of us do. I just hope we can quit. Maybe together even...Hi, my name is Jessie and I'm...
But seriously, guilt is not very productive. It only serves to make us feel badly.
I even struggled with guilt B.C. [before children]. Perhaps it was that "good ole Catholic guilt" my mom likes to joke about, perhaps it's just my personality. I don't know. Anyway, I was talking with my dear friend, Danielle, about it one day.
I'll never forget. She looked me square in the eye and said, "Jess, guilt is not from God."
Say what? Now wait a second. Wasn't that how He got us to turn around and shape up?
Nope. He uses conviction for that purpose. Conviction is that nagging feeling you get when you suspect you are doing something wrong. It is the Holy Spirit alerting you that your behavior is at odds with God's will. Repent, listen, and obey, and that's that. Conviction leads to change; guilt leads to anxiety and despair.
God doesn't want us to feel guilty.
Wow! How had I forgotten that revelation? Did I somehow think it didn't apply to moms? Sometimes I think we need to hear it more than anyone. When we are scared we are ruining a generation because we made mac-n-cheese for three days in a row or because our child watched that extra cartoon, we need our Father to help us see the bigger picture.
When we stop, pray, and listen, God can gently reveal the areas where we need improvement. He can also offer us peace and rest, allowing us to let the small stuff go. It's my prayer tonight I can turn off my inner critic and hear my loving Father instead.
Philippians 4:6-7 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Matthew 11:28-30 Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. "Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you shall find rest for your souls. "For My yoke is easy, and My load is light.
8/1/12
Music to my ears
I hear hard balls rolling down the upstairs hall, crashing into who-knows-what, and two, giggling conspirators. And I love it!
When we first moved into this house, I had my doubts. No sidewalks and the nearest neighbor was 1/2 acre away. We didn't see any kids for weeks. Those we did spot were older and across a very busy road.
I was sad. We had come from the most amazing neighborhood in Seattle. Tons of kids, double cul de sac, park within view of our front porch. Our kids were always outside with the neighbor kids in the summer or inside a neighbor's house in the winter. It was great!
When we moved here, I worried about their socialization. Silly me! Parker made tons of friends at preschool. Maddie, still pretty young, preferred to play on her own.
The best part about living here is that the kids have to play together. When Jack was a newborn and I was buried in a sea of diapers, sleep-deprived, and constantly grumpy, Parker and Maddie bonded like war veterans.
Today, after cleaning up the lunch mess, I called up the stairs, "Can Jack and I come up and play with you?"
"We're having pretty much fun up here by ourselves!"
I smiled to myself. Glad for once of our isolated little house on our busy, busy street. Thank you, God, for unexpected blessings (and loving siblings).
When we first moved into this house, I had my doubts. No sidewalks and the nearest neighbor was 1/2 acre away. We didn't see any kids for weeks. Those we did spot were older and across a very busy road.
I was sad. We had come from the most amazing neighborhood in Seattle. Tons of kids, double cul de sac, park within view of our front porch. Our kids were always outside with the neighbor kids in the summer or inside a neighbor's house in the winter. It was great!
When we moved here, I worried about their socialization. Silly me! Parker made tons of friends at preschool. Maddie, still pretty young, preferred to play on her own.
The best part about living here is that the kids have to play together. When Jack was a newborn and I was buried in a sea of diapers, sleep-deprived, and constantly grumpy, Parker and Maddie bonded like war veterans.
Today, after cleaning up the lunch mess, I called up the stairs, "Can Jack and I come up and play with you?"
"We're having pretty much fun up here by ourselves!"
I smiled to myself. Glad for once of our isolated little house on our busy, busy street. Thank you, God, for unexpected blessings (and loving siblings).
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