Misadventures of.... 5 minute Friday

View: "But I don't want to exercise!" Cricket screamed, stomping her foot. You would think that my inner voice would sound a little more mature than my 6 year old, but it seldom does. So much of my day is spent arguing with myself over things that I don't want to do, or arguing with my children over things that they don't want to do, or stressing over the things that no one wants to do but we have to do anyway. It was one of those days. Running from one thing to the next; never stopping to enjoy the current activity, just worrying over the next thing that would come up. How will I make it to all of the places I need to be? What will I do? If I could only have some time..... At 11:55, I sit here reflecting on my rear view mirror. Austin was so happy to show me around the county fair at school. Erika and Nicole laughed and laughed when I told them about how their uncles used to tease! And my day started with a good, long 'nuggle with my "baby". Thank goodness that hindsight isn't 20/20, I often find that my day was much nicer when looked at in the rear view mirror.

Misadventures of Lessons Taught

Teaching moments seem to be all around us. I didn't realize that we were having a great teaching moment this morning until I heard Alex chanting, "Keep your eye on the prize. Keep your eye on the prize."


Is Alex training for a marathon? Working towards his black belt? No! He is perfecting the great art of jumping from a bar stool, catching a balloon, and landing on my bed. Teaching him the best way to jump on the bed is probably not my finest parenting moment. I am, however, rather proud of the "Eye on the prize" bit. How did that little nugget of wisdom come about? He was telling me that he could get the balloon if he just kept looking at it. I agreed, "You can do it if you just keep your eye on the prize."

That casual comment has given him a new life affirmation. Okay, maybe not, but he is going to be the best little balloon catcher that this house has ever seen.

Misadventures of Animal Passion

Over the years, we have had many tucking in rituals. They are constantly evolving, causing me to look back and wonder, "What happened to.....?"   I digress. Today I am thinking of a specific tuck-in ritual.   Every night, after Alex says his prayers, I tuck him in with his special blankets. I then get a kiss and a hug, followed by putting love in the ear. This is achieved by whispering, "I love you!" in each other’s ears. There is a catch, though. It needs to be done simultaneously or it doesn't count. After that I tickle his forehead and bonk his nose. Then I say, "Tell me who loves you." Alex responds, "I love you and you love Me." and I say, "So much in love with us are we that you can kiss you and I can kiss me!" Alex corrects me with, "I can kiss you and you can kiss me!"After this declaration, I ask the very important question, "But who will kiss Flippered Alex?"   Who is Flippered Alex? You ask. Flippered Alex is the stuffed penguin that Alex got in San Diego last summer. We love Flippered Alex very much, but he has one flaw. That flaw keeps him from ever being kissed goodnight. After I ask my question, Alex always answers, "No one can kiss Flippered Alex because he has PENGUIN LIPS!" Evidently, PENGUIN LIPS are terrible things to have and are considered to be very contagious through kissing. Flippered Alex usually has to settle for a hug and a pat on the head before he is tucked in, too. Sometimes I try to sneak a kiss, but Alex always covers my mouth with a very stern, "No, Mom!" Last night, when I tried to get a kiss from Flippered Alex, Alex looked at me and his stuffed penguin and said, "Will you two cut it out?!" I don't think that I've heard that since Rick and I were dating.

Misadventures of First Attempts

I recently came across my first attempt at a blogging. At the time, my children were ages: 6, 4, 2, and 4 months.

Musings on Motherhood


9/16/2009



When I was a little girl, I had all of the usual aspirations: I wanted to be a ballerina or a princess. As I grew older, my dreams changed; I realized that Queen would have much more power than a mere princess. I went through other career plans as well, doctor (to help people), lawyer (to use my love of arguing, I mean, you can only be a teenager for so long), or teacher (very noble and self-sacrificing since they don't actually get paid for their work). But through it all, I knew that I ultimately wanted to be a "MOM".



I was going to be very good at being a mom. I was going to spend my days playing Candyland and pulling fresh baked goods out of the oven in my immaculate house. I was going to look like the moms in the TV commercials, too. I would be thin, always have a perfectly done face, beautiful hair (preferably thick and auburn). The details of how I was going to manage all of those things stayed comfortably hazy. What would it matter if I hate housework or my hair was stringy and blond? It's done on TV all the time.



Then reality hit. When my oldest was born, I lost a lot of the answers that I was so sure I had. Child development courses and four younger brothers did nothing to prepare me for the uncertainty of motherhood. But somehow I muddled through with a few of my theories still comfortably in place, and then came Nicole. With the birth of my second child I lost all of my remaining answers and was left foundering. I've never found my footing since.



Still, motherhood is the greatest blessing in my life. What other career would have you saying prayers every morning, thanking Heavenly Father for the person who kept you up all night.

Musings on Motherhood, Four Years Later



With my youngest child approaching four years old, and having spent a lot of hours playing Candyland recently, I can tell you that spending your days playing Candyland has been scientifically proven to slow down the movement of time. I'm not talking about the, "I wish this moment would last forever!"time. I am referring to the, "Will this never end?" time. (While I write this, Alex is trying to set up a Candyland meets Parcheesi game. I'm not sure how that will work, but he's a man with a plan.)



Fresh baked goods do awful things to my body and further mess up the kitchen that I still hate to clean.



All of the parenting wisdom that I firmly believed pre-children has been gone so long that I can't even remember what I thought I knew. I have only two parenting theories that I have come to believe, and I'm sure that they, too, will pass.

1. Life was much simpler when I had ALL of the answers and NONE of the questions. I've come to realize this truth as I've asked for advice in public forums. The people who offer advice generally have fewer children at younger ages who have never reached my situation. The people who have "been there, done that" will simply say that I need to figure it out for myself.

2. Having been out of Junior High longer than I usually care to admit, I'm not too concerned with my public image. What I mean to say is it doesn't matter if the people at the grocery store think that it is odd that the children and I are all sporting eye liner mustaches or if my hair is purple because we had a wacky hair day. The grins and giggles of my little ones matter much more to me than the raised eyebrows of strangers.

Still, even on the days that I wonder if the children will ever go to bed and give me some time, I'm thankful every day to be the MOM.

     

Misadventures of Silver Linings

Today Is not about my folly; it is about finding the good in our lives. With that in mind, I have decided to find things to be grateful for.

Yes, it's 7 a. m. and I can already hear the children arguing. But, on the plus side, it's 7 a. m. and I don't have to wake the Little Dears up.

Yes, the children have to go to school today. But, on the plus side, I don't have to drive them to school today.

Yes, Utah's bipolar weather has us going through a deep freeze that has caused the temperature in our house to drop to 54 degrees. But, on the plus side, my bed is nice and warm.

Looking over these blessings, they all seem to be pointing me in the same direction. I feel that the only way to truly show my gratitude, and good sense, is to lay back down and pull the covers up to my chin. Nighty, night.

Misadventures of R-E-S-P-E-C-T

You know that Rick and I have a very strong sense of decorum, treating all people and subject matter with a great deal of gravity and respect. We have striven to instill this same sense of respect in our children, though, I'm not sure if our teachings are getting through to them.

This evening, during a very spiritual family night lesson, or as spiritual as any lesson can be with four young children, Rick asked if anyone had any questions. Alex, the four year old, respectfully raised his hand and announced that he had a question. When called on to ask his question, Alex asked, "Dad, are you ever going to stop talking so I can play scripture guessing (charades)?"

I'm pretty sure that the respectful way that he raised his hand was due primarily to Rick's influence. I'm afraid that the sentimentality behind the question may be the result of my influence.

Misadventures of Answered Prayers

My soul felt raw. My inner dialogue was un-publishable. My usually sweet spirit was anything but angelic.

The day had started with Alex throwing up in bed. I had asked Austin to put his clothes in the dryer while I was stripping Alex's bed. I ended up speaking rather sharply to finally get the washer emptied. Things hadn't improved much in the afternoon.

Now 5:00 found me driving down the freeway to take my little monsters to swimming lessons. The lessons weren't for me. I wasn't going to be playing in the pool. Why should I have to do it? You can probably imagine the kind of language that I had been listening to. To tell the truth, if today's lesson hadn't been the last, the little dears would have found themselves without a ride.

As I drove, I came to the conclusion that, if I was going to take the turkeys to swimming in spite of their behavior, then I really needed to stop fuming about it. Having made that very mature decision, I tried to figure out a way to get over my anger. I offered up a little prayer. It was a carefully worded prayer. I didn't pray for better children. I didn't pray for patience, I've heard what happens when people ask for patience. I simply asked for guidance on how to snap out of my funk. I had scarcely finished my prayer when a truck kicked up a rock and put a large crack in my windshield.


Feeling that all of my carefully chosen words had somehow failed me, I felt myself slipping deeper into my bad mood. In my mind (because I was driving), I began writing my little rant. Finding the right words to convey just how ill used I felt really lifted my mood.

 I would not normally go looking for tender mercies in a knicked windshield. However, I came to the realization that trying to find something funny to say about my windshield was probably the only thing that could have brightened my day. The Lord does work in mysterious ways.