Gladdest Day

Today was a great day. 

It didn't start out that way.  It started out with me snapping at the kids as I hurriedly tidied the house before a play date.  You read that right, before a play date.  [How dumb is that?]  The toys and clothes were put away.  I desperately needed to sweep (and use a Clorox wipe to scrub off rogue spit-up drops that managed to escape my attention and dry like cement on the floors).  I contemplated taking pictures of my full [nasty] dustpans.  Somehow I felt like I needed proof of just how bad it was.  I wanted all those people who say, "Oh, just leave it!" to look at those pictures and tell me if they would be comfortable leaving it on their floors.  I'm talking spaghetti noodles from last night's dinner, broken crayons, stickers, human hair, cat hair, dirt, tricky little dried peas (from who knows when), sticks, dried bits of play dough, etc.  Nasty.

Parker and Maddie wanted to play...with toys we'd just put away.  I just wanted them out. of. my. way.  Nice, huh? 

The guests arrived, and a wonderful time was had by all. 

Not long after our friends had left it was "quiet time."  By some miracle, all three kids were in their rooms at the same time.  I knew I had a good hour to catch some z's.  But I couldn't.  I tossed and turned.  Something my friend said during the play date played over and over in my mind.  She said she loved reading my blog because it reminded her of just how precious this time [with our children while they are little] really is. 

As I lay in my bed, I was overcome.  Precious = valuable.  What do I value?  A clean house?  That's pride.  Time with my children, now that is valuable, to be cherished, not squandered.  I am certain some readers are sick and tired of reading about this revelation.  I know I am.  Shouldn't true revelation inspire revolution?  Where is the change? 

I jumped down off the bed.  Lying face down on the floor I reached out to God.  I prayed for humility.  Here I was again.  Treating the priceless gifts that He has literally placed in my hands with disdain and annoyance.  I begged for forgiveness...for some true and lasting change in my heart. 

An old sermon I'd heard years ago tickled my brain.  Something about repentance and turning your behavior around.  As I was writing this blog, I did a little research.  Did you know there are actually about four different words in the original Bible texts that have all been translated into the word "repent" or "repentance" in modern translations?  One means to regret or feel sorry (been there, done that).  But one means "turn."  Basically, it means don't just feel badly and say sorry; quite literally turn your behavior around.  Repentance is an action.

I couldn't wait to get off that floor.  I ran upstairs and hugged my babies (the older ones, anyway; I haven't had enough time to really mess things up with Jack yet).  They were confused but happy.  "Is quiet time over already?"  I was grinning and crying.  "It is today."

We went downstairs and began work on some "ordaments," as Maddie calls them.  Flour and salt flew everywhere.  Dough dropped on the floor.  Mushy ornaments were torn.  With each perceived infraction, two little heads whipped around to gauge my reaction.  I didn't even have to fake it.  I shrugged and laughed, dismissing it with an "It happens." 

Love and warmth and kindness filled our kitchen.  I watched in amazement as my two (typically territorial) children shared.  Maddie climbed atop the stool and immediately scooted to one side.  "Here, Buddy.  Here's a place for you."  "Do you want this cutter, Maddie?"  They squished dough balls and traded cookie cutters for the better part of an hour.  When we were finished, the counter was lined with stockings, gingerbread men, candy canes, and hand prints.  They were beautiful.

With a huge smile on his face, Parker sighed, "This is the gladdest day ever."  I couldn't agree more. 

Tomorrow is another play date.  Remember the mom with the white socks [see previous post: I saw your socks, and I'm sorry]?  They are coming.  My floors are a mess again tonight.  Maybe I'll see if the kids want to play with the dustbuster and suck up some crumbs tomorrow.  Maybe I won't.  What I do know is that with God's help, I will set my pride aside, and tomorrow can be the gladdest day ever, too. 

Professional

I often wonder what professions the kids will choose when they grow up.  I thought I had Parker pegged.  He is a real dare-devil.  He likes to climb to the tops of trees, do "tricks" on his bike (which still has training wheels on it, mind you), walk across the tops of monkey bars, etc.  He always tells me not to worry, because he is a "professional."  Yeah.

Given his interests and coordination, I daydream about his future as a snowboarder, gymnast, and so on.  However, the other day, I decided perhaps I had pigeon-holed him and needed to reconsider his options...

With Jack on my hip I entered Parker's room and encouraged him to change his clothes so we could go out.  He was wearing his favorite [ratty] orange shorts.  He knows that he must change into pants when we go out, given the fact that it is fall (and thank goodness, too cold to wear those grimy things outdoors). 

Parker dropped the shorts, revealing the fact he decided to go "komodo" [commando] today.  He began to dance around, naked.  He was very amused at his, er, anatomy.

"Hey mom!" he exclaimed, "How 'bout you tell Jack one day when he grows up, he'll have big private parts like this."  [More gyrations]  Clearly this child does not have a confidence problem.

I quickly turned away to shield Jack from the display.  Aw, who am I kidding?  Jack is 3 months old.  He doesn't have a clue.  I turned away so Parker wouldn't see me cracking up.

Stifling a chuckle, I repeated, "Yeah Jack, one day you'll have big private parts, too."

Parker prattled on happily to himself as he pulled up his underwear, "Yeah, and everyone will say, 'Wow!  Look at those big private parts!"

Who is everyone and why are they all admiring his private parts? I wondered to myself.  That's when it hit me.  The career option I had ignored thus far: adult entertainer.  His dad will be so proud... 

Play!

It has been an exciting time in our house. I have been so inspired by things I have seen on the web that I have tried lots of new activities with the kids.  (So many, in fact, I fear they may begin to expect crafty entertainment on a regular basis.)

Keep in mind that I am very frugal [cheap] and creatively challenged [only capable of stealing and replicating good ideas, not creating them]. I believe the best ideas are fun for both the child and the parent. In order for me to enjoy myself, the activity usually has to be easy to set up, easy to clean up, very engaging [they should be interested for a good 20-30 minutes], and cheap.

Here are some pictures of our recent undertakings:

I LOVE this project. It could not have been easier. I think I found it on Pinterest: Put paint in a bag. Tape it to the window. Let them smear it around. (I also gave them q-tips so they could write letters or draw pictures - another Pinterest idea.)

 

This was fun for a rainy day.  The kids wanted to play outside.  I wanted to stay in.  This way they could get some energy out and have a neat sensory experience at the same time.  (Idea courtesy of playathomemom3.blogspot.com)  They loved the fact that I let them throw the balloons at each other and splash as much as they wanted!

The water in tub was warm; the water in balloons was cold.

Demolition is always the best part!

Water, water everywhere!

  

We tried this one today. We made our own Mission Impossible obstacle course out of streamers. What an inexpensive, simple way to have fun and work on motor skills! Parker loved the idea that he was dodging laser beams.  (Idea found on Pinterest.)

Creating the chaos...

Careful now! 







Time to tear it down...almost as much fun as setting it up!

I just hope I can find more activities for the long winter months ahead!

Rocks

Parker loves rocks.  He has a massive "collection" that lives on our back porch.  It was inside, but due to his tendency to spread it all over the floor and our habit of walking in bare feet, it was banished to the porch.

Still, it's not unusual for me to find strays littering the floors of our home from time to time (especially after an outing at a park).  So, today when I went to wake Parker from his nap, I was not surprised to see a smooth, oblong, slightly cracked object on his carpet.  I tilted my head and nudged it with my toe.  "Is that a ro--" I started to ask.  My eyes traveled a bit farther.  More "rocks."

Oh. No.  In case you haven't guessed by now, it wasn't a rock.  At least, not one that came from the ground.  Ughhh! 

Parker was groggy.  "What is it mommy?"

"It's poop."

I immediately turned my attention to Maddie.  She is, after all, the child who tends to relieve herself in inappropriate places. (See previous posts: It's all fun and games; Poop in the tub II, etc.) I went to her room, and waking her as gently as possible, I asked in the sweetest tone I could muster, "Maddie, did you poop in Buddy's room?"  She stared at me blankly, cocked her head (as if sincerely searching her little memory banks), and answered plainly, "No."  Hmmm...Maddie generally owned up to this sort of thing.

"Well, someone pooped on his floor.  I want you to come in and take a look and make sure it's not yours." [Yeah, because looking at it would make all the difference.  I'm sure she'd be able to determine if it was hers or his by staring at it.  Idiot!]

She followed me into his room, dutifully examined the poo, and shook her head.  "Nope."

I started to chuckle and shake my head.  The kids looked at me as if I were crazy.  It was like they were waiting for their normal [read: angry] mommy to appear and begin ranting.  I mentally debated the pros and cons of just cleaning up the mess and going on about our business.  In the end, I decided it would drive me crazy if I didn't know.

I began to pace the floor and lay out the facts like I'd seen lawyers on TV do so many times:
"There is poop on the floor.
Parker, you say you didn't do it.
Maddie, you say you didn't do it.
I didn't do it.  Jack didn't do it. And Daddy didn't do it.
Maddie, you were playing in Parker's room before quiet time.
Parker, no one has been in here but you since quiet time started..."

Parker interrupted my musings: "Mommy, I need to change my shorts.  These are all sweaty from my nap."

I took a closer look at his navy shorts.  They were soaked.  When he handed them to me, I smelled them.  "Honey, you peed in your pants." 

"No I didn't!" he insisted, insulted.

"Come here and bend over for a second."  Aha!  A chuckle escaped my lips.  The kids were very confused.  I was strangely satisfied, peaceful almost.  My detective work paid off. 

Parker has been under the weather for a few days and has been taking naps again (during which he sleeps like the dead).  Today, when I checked on him, he had set up his blankets and pillow on the floor.  Sometime during his nap, he had moved to his bed (leaving the trail of...evidence).  He didn't even realize he had an accident.  Poor guy!

He looked confused and upset.  "It was you, honey.  You didn't know it.  It's okay."
He burst into tears. 

He was consoled by an episode of his favorite Godzilla cartoon while I sanitized the floor.  All in a day's work!

Maddie girl

That's what I call her...My Maddie Girl.  She is my baby girl, and she just blew out three candles on her pink and purple pony cake.  Three.  This ain't my first rodeo.  I know how it works.  I know that the days are long and the years are short.  I know that cooing and gurgling gives way to little broken sentences all too quickly.  I know that with each birthday my children celebrate I am always left shaking my head, misty-eyed, wondering where the time has gone. 

Still, it takes me by surprise.  Takes my breath away.  I was thinking about it the other day.  That Beatles song "She's Leaving Home" popped into my head and I was reduced to a sniveling mess. 



She's Leaving Home by the Beatles (in case you've never heard it)

So often when I watch Maddie play or dance or sing, I find myself staring into space, unintentionally pressing the mental fast forward button...Suddenly I am waving goodbye as she steps on the school bus, trying not to chew my nails when she takes the car for a spin by herself, videoing her graduation, helping pack the car for college, fixing her veil on her wedding day....  Okay, okay, I know.  She's three.  I sound psychotic.  But if you only realized how quickly the last three years sped by, it's not much of a stretch to imagine the next 30 zooming past at lightening speed.

I'll have 18 short years to really be with Maddie - to love her, teach her, guide her and watch her grow.  Well, 15 now.  I think one of the scariest things about parenthood is that nagging fear that you will somehow miss the mark.  You won't get it right.  You will not adequately instill important values and virtues and therefore will somehow damage your child.  In the hopes of sparing them discomfort or pain, you will push your own "perfect" agenda [see cookie-cutter life I have planned for Maddie above] and push him or her away.

A dear friend of mine often says his [adult] son grew into a wonderful man in spite of his parenting.  I love that line.  I know that in many ways, I need to just step back and let Maddie grow into Maddie. 

So, I will take a deep breath and try to live in the moment with her.  We'll take one day at a time.  I will enjoy her twirling and whirling and singing and best of all, her kisses.  I will try to stand back and get out of her way (which is probably the safest move anyway since she has all the grace of SNL's Mary Katherine Gallagher).   

Picture of SNL's Mary Katherine Gallagher

Picture of Maddie at her first dance class.  Notice the teacher's arm position versus Maddie's...

I can also take great comfort in the fact that I am not the architect of Maddie's life (thank goodness!).  That's already been taken care of by the greatest Planner of them all. 

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29:11

I will love her and do my best to guide her and revel in the fact that I am the lucky one who gets to be called my Maddie Girl's momma.  I'm the lucky one who gets to watch her grow...and I look forward to doing just that.  Happy birthday, sweetheart.



Maddie singing her favorite song

Bad words

Everyone was finally loaded in the van.  Cooler with lunches for everyone (including Daddy who would meet us later), check.  Manual breast pump with bottle (in case I had to feed Jack on the go), check.  Sunscreen (in case it's sunny), jackets (in case it's not), cell phone, camera, and partridge in a pear tree, check.

It was 9:30.  Everyone had gotten dressed, gone potty, and Maddie even let me brush her hair (miracle of miracles).  We'd make it to the doctor on time for Jack's two month check-up, feed him, and even if they were running behind (because they always are) we'd still arrive at the pumpkin farm on time for Parker's preschool field trip.  Whew!  I allowed myself to exhale.

My zen moment was interrupted by a tiny voice from the backseat:  "Mommy, you said [insert bad word]."

My eyes shot open wide.  "What?!"

Parker: Mommy, you said [bad word].

Me: [genuinely confused] When!?

Parker:  As we were leaving the house.  You said it.  You said [bad wo-]

Me: Okay!  Okay.  I really don't remember saying that, but if you say so, I probably did.  Mommy is so sorry.  I should never say words like that.  I was very rushed, but that doesn't make it okay--

Maddie: (chiming in)  Noooo.  We don't say [bad word].

Me: [getting flustered] Okay!  Okay guys.  You're right.  We don't say that.  I'm very sorry.

Visions of Parker relaying the story to his innocent preschool playmates while they jumped from bales of hay as judgmental teachers and parents looked on filled my brain.  Time for damage control.

Me: Parker, I know Mommy shouldn't have said that bad word, and I'm very, very sorry I said it [understatement].  I need you not to repeat it anymore, okay?  Don't tell your friends--

Parker: But...

You see, Parker has found the bad-word tattle-tale loophole, and he loves it.  I can't tell you how many times he has come home from school with a story about so-and-so who said "fart" or "poop" or some other forbidden word.  He delights in relaying the offense, as it gives him the opportunity to use the word himself.

Me: If you need to tell someone, tell Daddy.  Just don't repeat the word I said.  Just say, 'Mommy said a bad word,' and I can tell him what it was, okay?

Parker:  [grudgingly] Okay.

Sheesh.

Maddie's smile

You know what they say about Helen of Troy...how her face launched a thousand ships?
Well, I know I'm biased, but I believe the same could be said about my daughter.  Her smile lights up my life. 

And if you think her smile is amazing [if you don't, I don't want to know], you should try one of her hugs.  Soft, surprisingly strong arms around your neck, her face buried in your hair.  Maddie's hugs often end with a kiss.  She doesn't grasp the concept of a kiss on the cheek.  If you attempt that, she'll grab your face with both of her little hands, hold it steady, and plant a tiny kiss on your lips.  What could be sweeter?   

Maddie is her own person.  Opinionated, obstinate, exuberant, flamboyant...  Who knew so much drama could reside in such a little body?  Winning her favor is like winning the lottery...odds are you won't, but if you do, you are on top of the world.  I shake my head just thinking about her.  How I love that little girl!