They probably just miss sunshine

 Normally after a morning like I just endured I would avoid blogging, but this is supposed to be some kind of sanity saver for me so excuse me while I vent or not. I'm really not sure where this is going today.

The boys woke up around 6:30 this morning and for some reason (although I have my speculations) they were quite quarrelsome. They were also incredibly rude and defiant with me. There were a lot of bad tempers (theirs) and short tempers (mine) and it led to some crying (both parties). They lost some cherished toys for an undetermined amount of time while I consulted the leftover cupcakes for parenting advice. (The cupcakes were sweet, but offered no real help.) By noon I was dangling precariously from my extremely frayed nerves and my patience was registering on the empty side. Fortunately I caught sight of the clock in time to gather my nerve endings and give myself the "it's almost the blessed event of nap time" pep talk. One harsh demand of a grilled cheese sandwich almost completely unraveled me, but I collected myself once more and marched onward. Nap time unfolded itself in the beauty of a white flag of surrender (I think; I haven't checked on any children to make sure they are actually sleeping). (In fact, I know one of them is NOT because he just came out of his room with multiple excuses for not being able to sleep. No, sir. Nap is a requirement today.)

In other news, T has been dubbed Head Coach for D's t-ball team. The email that I found yesterday with this unexpected announcement congratulated him and said he was "a blessing to be volunteering". (He was volunteering for assistant coach, but apparently they really need him since they had so many kids sign up.) He has to attend the "draft" tonight where all the coaches get together and pick the players for their team. Serious stuff.

I'm going to go knit my nerves back together and hope they are strong enough to last the long evening ahead of me. (at least I have my good humor intact, right? lucky.)

p.s. I think it may be a lack of vitamin D in their systems... we've had quite a bit of cloudy weather lately. Yes, I think I'll definitely blame the weather.

and then I laugh-cried and everyone went to bed

Did you know I never need to look at a clock to know when it's 4:30pm? It's true. I always know when it's that time because my children lose their minds. When I had one baby I didn't believe in this "witching hour" thing. Until I got pregnant with my second... and D would need immediate attention right as I started making supper or doing anything relatively important. He would cling to my legs and cry and demand to be held. This trend has continued and I'm afraid it may have gotten worse over the last couple of months. I'm praying/begging/pleading with whoever is in charge of this hour to end this trend because I think this is about as much as I can handle. At least the upset/angry/everything-leads-to-a-fight "witching hour". (About 50% of the time the "witching hour" is just my kids being happy-wild. I am much better with that.)

Spider Man made an appearance last night and fell off his bed. I had just told him and his side kick, Superhero Flying D, to stop jumping on and off the beds. When I returned to my residence (the kitchen) I heard another jump, followed with a hard land, followed by scream-cries. I gracefully scaled some obstacles (maybe one of my other children) and rescued a crumpled Spider Man. I saw some blood (from the nose) and luckily my adrenaline was in high gear (because the nausea attacked when we calmed down a few moments later). I grabbed some tissues and typed furiously into the search engine "kid fell off bed bloody nose" and deemed him fine. (honestly there was more slobber coming from his blubbering than blood from his nose) He was back to being his normal self a few moments later. (Which means he didn't slow down for very long.)

Everything seemed to be better after I gave them a slice of homemade bread. They were quiet for about a whopping 3 seconds. Then they tried to negotiate eating their supper... we'll just have bread, this stew looks yucky. (It was delicious!) Then a little smarty-pants appeared at my table and told me to give him more bread or I'm gonna take your computer away. To which I replied with a you don't make the rules around here mister! He spent some time in his room.

Rose was giving me lots of grief because I wouldn't carry her everywhere. She has been running straight to me and grabbing my legs and I keep on walking/doing what I was while she makes me drag her around. She also bursts into tears any time I put her down, give her an option of graham crackers or cheerios, give her juice, or have to peel her off of my legs. I'm not exaggerating. I have to have something to blame for her crazy actions over the last several days, so I am about 73% sure she is cutting a molar. Or two. I tried to pry open her mouth and look but that's a difficult task and then I tried to feel for one, but the fact that she thinks it's hilarious to bite my fingers frightens me.

The boys (neither took a nap so I'm sure that was a catalyst in all of this) were refusing to eat supper, jumping off their beds, trying to have an excuse for an ER visit, trying to punish me for feeding them, telling me No and not listening. I sent a text to T that read Mind is shriveling. That was after I debated sending him this one: I've lost my mind a million times already! They are trying to send me to a padded room because I made stew for supper!! What did I do to deserve this?! I decided that was a little much. I didn't want to scare him too badly. He called a few minutes later saying he was on his way home and I must really be having a tough time since I texted him about it and I rarely do that. He was so sweet. I may have laugh-cried (which instantly requires a moment of mommy isolation/timeout or she is sure to only see her kids during Sunday afternoon visits in a private courtyard on the outskirts of town.) (That sounds like a nice place... don't be fooled, it isn't.)


T made it home and the house was extremely quiet which may have scared him a little bit. I was folding some laundry (while Rose jumped in it, totally making it pointless) in our bedroom while D was still sulking at the table and Ry had just decided to go on to bed. T was very good with them. He put in bed and told them a story (I don't know what about but I heard Once upon a time there were two little boys who never ate their supper...). Then we put Rose to bed and she was unhappy about that. After a while of her mommy, mommy, mommy-ing I went in and she tossed her blanket at me and I hugged her and said it was night-night time to which she responded with, I want Daddy! I let her have him. Then I inspected her gums and administered some infant ibuprofen (not a full dose, however) she stole some bread from T and then I put her back in her bed where she blew me a kiss and said, bye Mommy! wuv you! She plays the game so well.

Those evenings are hard, but luckily they aren't the norm around here. I guess the whole point of writing this out is to keep things real. I usually don't write much about how the kids were misbehaving or me hiding in my room for 30 seconds to just breathe and find a happy place... So anyone else out there having one those kinds of days- you aren't alone!

Thankfully, today is a new day and we can start fresh. Hopefully we won't have any mega meltdowns or serious injuries. It's supposed to be nice out so maybe we'll go a long walk this afternoon to get the wiggles out before dinner time. Maybe I'll grace the blog again later today with something a little more lighthearted... we'll see how it goes. Have a happy Wednesday everyone!

It's a choice

Today I choose to be thankful. Thankful for my life, my husband and my kids. They are my happiness. I have tried really hard to have a good morning and I've experienced a nice range of emotion today and it's only noon. I have tried unsuccessfully to type out a post without whining or ranting this morning. I had an awkward phone conversation that left me feeling agitated. I'm allergic to something that blew in with this cold front so I have the joy of having a scratchy throat, stuffy nose and watery eyes. Whine whine whine.

things that make me happy (in no particular order)

• hot coffee
• peppermint tea with honey
• flannel sheets
• babies that like to cuddle
• homemade chicken and dumplings
• hugs from T
• this news from Dwija
• making pigs-n-a-blanket with a 5 & 3 year old
• laughing
• watching the sun rise
• seeing my rose bush blooming in November
• the scent of apples and cinnamon
• nap time 

Stop

I was on my way to the grocery store last night when I came up to the STOP sign at the end of our road. I was about to enter a busy highway and it made me think about how I wish I could make time stop. Or at least slow down. But what really came to mind was that I needed to stop.

I have made a little promise to myself to stop the endless chores that always get in the way of me really engaging and interacting with the kids. Sure, I read them books, color, take them outside, but I usually have something to do other than sit down and really play with them for more than a few minutes. I don't have to be so busy all the time. Dishes can wait, laundry can be thrown in the washer and dryer with minimal interruption to spending quality time with my kids. It really bothers me that I've let cleaning (which I'm not that great at anyway) become more important than playing trains and having a pretend cup of tea.

Priority rearrangement. It's happening. Because they are just as important today as they were the day they were born and deserve the same undivided attention I gave them then. Everything else is (as our friend Matt would say) small potatoes.

I'm linking up with My 3 Little Birds today and sharing a MOMent.

My Friend the Sink

*warning! this got wordy*

I spend a good amount of time each day washing dishes. I don't have a dishwasher so every thing gets washed by hand. Usually it's my hands in that hot, almost scalding water. Back in the day when we lived in an apartment in the city (yeah, that does sound weird) I had a dishwasher. I couldn't stand the thought of icky food stuff on my hands so I bought a dish wand to keep my hands as far away from the grossness on the dishes. I really hated washing dishes and Beard-O would often do it for me.

Then we moved to a rent house and during the move I lost my dish wand. I still had a dishwasher though. But now I was a stay at home mama; I had a six month old baby boy. I learned to deal with all sorts of gross stuff. Getting peed on, pooped on and spit up on (all in a five minute time frame!) I could deal with. Food stuck on dishes... still gross. I started getting over it. That kitchen sink faced a wall. No window for me to look out of. Just me, a sink of dishes and a wall to stare at. That's when I started thinking. I would plan our menus, write grocery lists, debate with myself, think about our baby, think about our marriage, think about our budget. My sink was a place where I would convince myself everything was going to be okay. Sometimes things were far from okay, sometimes they were wonderful.

Then we bought a house. There was no dishwasher. Not even a place to put one. But my sink had a window above it. I started enjoying washing dishes. Still very much a chore but I could see past that now. We brought our second baby, a boy (surprise!) home to that house. I had babies cling to my legs while I washed dishes. Lay across my feet and wait for me to pick them up. I laughed at my husbands jokes, kissed him hello, cried in his arms at that sink. I gave myself pep talks. I let myself hold onto a lot of anger at that sink. And then we moved. Again.

The sink in the kitchen in the yellow house where we lived for a month is probably my favorite. A tiny kitchen. A tiny sink that was nearly impossible to wash a pot in. Where I stood pregnant with my third baby with two little boys running past me. No window. But I didn't seem to need it there. I washed dishes while turning ever so slightly to watch the TV that picked up three channels. I picked up those boys and washed their hands and faces while they wiggled and squirmed trying to get away. I drowned my doubts and anxiety in that sink and let them flow down the drain. And then we moved to this house.

My current sink is where most of my self therapy is held. I have more dishes to wash and another window to look out of. I had a daughter that knew if I walked to the sink I wouldn't pick her up right away. She screamed at me and put herself between me and the dishes. I've broken glasses in that sink. Had plates break in two. Pulled back in pain from the scorching water. Thought about how different my life has become, about how different I have become. I've cried standing at this sink too. I've laughed a lot and told some pretty good jokes from my place at the sink. I've lost my temper, I've forgotten about things cooking, I've lingered too long. All at my kitchen sink. I often think about what I should write on this blog while I'm washing dishes. Usually it's some reflection about how I'm rushing through the day and I need to just. slow. down. I need to put down the bowl and go read a book to my kids. I never write about those things though.

I'm a bit afraid to share my struggles and anxieties on this blog. I know there are so many other people with bigger problems than I have. But these problems are mine and they are important to me. I share them with my sink. Because my sink doesn't reject me. It doesn't ridicule me or tell me it doesn't care. I spend a lot of time talking to God at my sink. And when I'm done with all the dishes I dry my hands and whatever I was dealing with, whatever was frustrating me doesn't seem so bad. I feel capable, like I can handle whatever gets thrown my way. That I am a good Mama that disciplines her children because she loves them. That I'm a good wife. That maybe, just maybe, I'm doing alright.

p.s. thanks for the encouragement y'all gave for me to write about something besides how hot it is and how much laundry I have to do.

p.p.s I realize after writing this that it might sound somewhat depressing or that I'm always upset when I wash dishes. Actually, I'm usually in a pretty good mood and have been caught many times singing off key and dancing while I'm splashing some bubbles. Just sayin' 

My hands were actually tied, not full.

Friday I had a lovely day browsing through 4 stores with my 3 angelic children. One of them in particular was being just delightful.

This particular child told me (after I asked if they would be good while we walked through the store) NO. I sighed and hoped for the best. While waiting in the store a nice salesman (I'm sure he was just trying to be friendly) thoughtfully pointed out the complete obvious to me. Well, you've got you're hands full! Aw. How sweet of you to notice that I am holding a squirming 19 month old, holding the hand of "particular" child and my desired purchases while asking my oldest to please stop skipping around all the old ladies in the store lest he trip them and they break a hip. Thankfully I was with my mom. She was very helpful. But, unfortunately for me, she decided to start browsing after I told her I was ready to check out and in line to do so. It wasn't too bad, but it left me a little flustered and after a few too many attempts to keep the children corralled around me I went on ahead and strapped them in their car seats.

and...

To the old ladies in the store: Yes, I noticed your disapproving glances as my children happily skipped down the aisle and spoke and maybe giggled. These things are normal and I don't mind as long as they are not screeching and running through the racks of clothes chasing each other.
However, I do mind when a particular child of the age three tells me "get your hands off of me!" loudly while I am holding him (it makes me look like I am kidnapping him) or withers around desperately trying to evade my firm grasp on his hand and making it seem as if I am purposely trying to twist and break off his arm. At a moment like that I whisper into his ear oh sweet child, just hold mommy's hand and you'll get a special surprise for being such a good boy. Unfortunately this doesn't work because he insists that he wants no part in having a special surprise. I can't even bribe him.

I am certain I scared that nice salesman when for a brief moment I hesitated after he uttered that phrase.... In that hesitation I think I may have simultaneously had smoke come from my ears and laser beams from my eyes all the while half smiling half snarling at him and then saying Yeah, I guess I do. In a really sweet voice, by the way. And then we casually spoke of how fast kids grow up and blah blah blah, yadda yadda  cherish them.
But why did that comment rattle me? I've gotten that plenty of times before and just shook my head and said Oh it's not that bad. They're really good. I guess this time I was kind of frustrated, I literally had my hands full and I found that comment completely unhelpful. I'm almost positive I looked like a distressed mother teetering on the edge with her circus monkey children hanging from her weary limbs.

There are times though, when I'm grocery shopping and a nice older lady will stop her basket and smile at the kids and touch my arm and say they remind me of my babies, so cute!  I had two (or three) and they were best friends and still are. But they grow up so fast.... y'all be good helpers for Mommy, now! That's it. We part ways with the kind stranger and I feel reassured. Reassured that I'm doing alright as a mom. That I will make it and my kids will make it. And they will grow up and I'll grow old and miss this. I'll miss wrangling them into a shopping basket and asking D to walk because he's a big boy and I need help pushing this big basket. I'll miss asking Ry to stop pushing Rose. And I'll really miss Rose hugging Ry in the middle of our shopping trip because she thinks his pushing is him trying to hug her.

I've been working really hard this year to be a calm and patient mother. I've taken many a deep breaths while remembering their ages. I remind myself many times to expect them to act their real age because having unrealistic expectations for a 4, 3 and 1 year old is the worst thing I can do to myself. I've turned back to my cooking while they shriek, happily and loudly, while running in circles through the house and find myself laughing instead of being annoyed by the noise. I let myself get frustrated and irritated too easily sometimes. I really try to hold it together in public, mainly because I want people to think I've got this under control. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. And it's ok. Because babies cry and 3 year olds are curious and 4 years olds sometimes have a bad attitude. Hopefully not all at once but I can be prepared for it.

And what is the point of your story, Mama? It's going to be alright. There's no need to prove to strangers that I don't have my hands full, because I do, but I like it. And when they say things that irritate me while I'm having a stressful time... I'll try not to stab them with my eyeballs. I'll look at my children and tell myself to chill out and take another deep breath.

Don't worry, I've got this under control!

As always,
Mama