Confessions of a Not-So-Perfect Mother

I love my boys with a ferocity that I would never have guessed before I became a mother ... but sometimes they make me want to rock in the corner, with my eyes closed, while humming tunelessly.

There is very little sweeter than little-boy arms wrapped around your neck, that little bundle on your lap, or a bigger boy nestled against you ... but sometimes I read their bedtime story at the table because I can't stand the thought of anyone touching me.

The first "mama!" is a wonderful sound ... days of unending "mama! mama! mama!" occasionally make me wish for earplugs.

I love that they all enjoy books ... but sometimes I hide the one we've read three times a day for a week.

Their sleepy faces, with pillow creases still on their cheeks, delight me every morning. But when the morning is spent squabbling, whining, and/or sobbing hysterically about every wrong (both real and imagined) naptime is a most welcome time of day.

I love the sound of their voices, their laughs, the ideas and stories and questions that flow in an endless stream from their minds ... but sometimes I need them to just. be. quiet.

I used to think that parenting was all about teaching my children. I've come to believe that God also gives us children to show us the flaws in ourselves, so that He can gently shape and grow us in those areas. How can I think parenting is all about them when it shows me so clearly my own selfishness, impatience, and unkindness?

My boys are a wonderful gift ... even when they are loud, or naughty, or clingy. And part of that gift is the very fact that my reaction to their loudness, naughtiness, or clinging reveals areas I need to change. I can see that clearly tonight. Remind me tomorrow, okay?

Lessons from my children

Never ask, "Is it possible for us to be any noisier?" unless you are prepared for a demonstration. And yes, it is possible. Always.


"That will make a mess!" is a reason to do something, not a reason to stop.

An eight-year-old will be willing to go to bed at 7:30 and get up at 5:00 if he believes that it will truly make him healthy, wealthy, and wise. "Wealthy" being the most important of the three.


Never ask, "What are you eating?" when there's no food in the immediate area unless you're willing to hear the answer, "Boogers!".

Seeing your kids cuddle together in a chair will always make you smile, even when you know it's only a matter of time before they start fighting.


"I love you, Mommy!" will melt your heart. Every time.

Photos in this post are completely unrelated to the text. They just make me smile. They were all taken by my talented husband.

Life Lessons

Do you know what's worse than changing a poopy diaper?

Changing a diaper full of sand.

Do you know harder than changing a diaper full of sand?

Changing a poopy diaper that is full of sand.

These are the kinds of things they should teach in parenting classes.

Rocking

Shades drawn, dim room;
Quiet music, gentle strains;
Flannel blanket, soft and warm;
Tiny, gasping, baby breaths;
Snuggly boy, cuddled close;
Soft hair against my cheek;
Rocking rhythm, slow and steady.
Treasured moments.

Having a two-year-old in the house ...

...makes life interesting!

Just to give you a glimpse of what life with our two-year-old is like, I thought I'd share a few exploits from the last twenty-four hours.

Last night, Luke went in to tell the boys to turn their lamp off, put their books away, and go to sleep. He found Ethan sound asleep. Alex, on the other hand, was not. He had emptied out the basket that holds his picture books, taken his pillow, three blankets, and numerous stuffed animals off the bed put them into the basket, and then climbed in on top of it all. He was laying there quietly, his arms, legs, and head hanging out of this basket that's maybe 12" square. He apparently planned on sleeping there.

Luke had to go into our room and laugh before he could go back and make Alex get into his own bed

Today I was laying him down for his nap, and he had picked out a book with a verse of Old MacDonald for his story. I sang him the little book (it was the verse about Old MacDonald has a cow), and when I finished he wanted to sing it to me. He started at the beginning and sang, "E-I-O-E-E-I-O" as he turned the pages. Except for the cow page; there he sang "moo moo".

And when he was done, he licked the book. Naturally.

He got a hold of a red marker today while Ethan and I were reading during school. He colored his hands red, and dabbed just a bit of color on his cheeks. (I guess he didn't want to be garish.) I was going to take a picture, but we're trying really hard not to encourage that kind of behavior, especially since I had taken the marker away from him once already this morning.

This morning, Ethan was laying on the floor and Alex was stepping on him. (This is something he delights in doing; he loves rough-housing with Ethan, whether Ethan is participating or not.) I told him not to step on his brother.

So he sat on him. I told him not to touch his brother.

So, he stepped over his head, coming as close to Ethan as possible without actually touching him.

He does this obeying-the-letter-of-the-law game quite often, and I know, this is really just being naughty. But the whole time he's doing it, he's laughing this delighted little chortle and watching me to see what I'm going to do. He has such a playful spirit! Luke and I are trying to figure out where the line is between requiring obedience and not squashing his spirit. Obviously hurting his brother during the game makes that line pretty clear, but when he runs away naked to hide after you take him out of the bathtub, it's not so easy.

It's also pretty hard to keep from laughing at his impish grin when he peeks out at you.

I love this stage, though. And I love knowing that as Alex outgrows this charming, make-everything-a-game, make-my-parents-wonder-what-is-going-on-in-my-head stage, we have another one who will be growing into it.

How to make brownies

To make Peanut Butter Swirl Brownies:

Decide after supper to make brownies while the baby is napping, the toddler is playing with his father, and the seven-year-old is playing with Legos in his room.

Measure butter, brown sugar, and white sugar into mixing bowl. Turn the mixer on to blend those ingredients while you go pick up the baby who is now awake. Because picking the baby up causes the toddler to lose all interest in playing with his dad, pick him up as well. (Remind yourself that this jealous phase will pass.) Sit for a moment rocking both boys to calm the crying. Give the baby to your husband and take the toddler with you to let him "help" with the brownies. Get eggs and milk out of the fridge while holding the toddler. Sit him on the counter (stand directly in front of him - we don't want any falls!) and shut the mixer off. Give him the same lecture you always do when he's near you in the kitchen. "Don't touch the mixer. It's very dangerous and it can hurt you."

Crack two eggs into the mixing bowl. Measure out two tablespoons of milk and add it to the mixing bowl. Turn the mixer back on, pick up the toddler, and return the milk and egg containers to the fridge.

Avoid running into the seven-year-old who has come to show you how his Lego clean team works. Return to the mixer and shut it off. Hold the toddler because the seven-year-old is now using the counter space that the toddler was sitting on to demonstrate the forklift, truck, and crane that help him pick up Legos off the floor. (They're all driven by little Lego men wearing hard hats. Safety first!) Realize that this is why it takes him so long to pick up his Legos. Get out the flour, baking powder, salt, and cocoa.

Try to pay attention to the Lego demonstration while accurately measuring flour, baking powder and salt into the mixing bowl. (Remember you're still holding the toddler. Don't drop him or let him grab the ingredients.) Mix until blended. Realize seven-year-old is done demonstrating and intends to play with the Legos right there next to you. Ask him to move to the other side so you can set the toddler down on the counter again.

Divide half the batter into another bowl. Pick toddler up and get peanut butter, chocolate chips, and peanut butter chips. Return to mixing area.

Measure cocoa into the batter left in the mixing bowl. Blend. Raise mixer head and reach for a spatula to stir in chocolate chips. Freak out as toddler turns the mixer on. Simultaneously holler, "No, no! That's naughty!", turn off the mixer, and check for injuries. Breathe a prayer of thanks that there are none.

Realize what a mess your kitchen now is. Wash the toddler. Realize seven-year-old has had the sense to vacate the kitchen. Put the toddler down amid much crying as he realizes he's not going to be able to watch anymore. Get down on his level and explain that he was naughty and now he has to stay down. Harden your heart against his pitiful cries.

Shoo the dog out of the kitchen and wash the batter off the floor.

Overhear seven-year-old telling his father (with great delight) that he got brownie batter in his hair but he washed it out. Realize he's coming back into the kitchen to play. Right next to you. Tell him he has to take his toys elsewhere for now as you wash chocolate batter off the counters, cabinets, and your sweatshirt.

Realize there is chocolate being smeared back on the counters. Where is that coming from? Oh, there - you missed a whole big bunch on your sleeve.

Stir in chocolate chips into the batter. Ignore the crying and tugging on your pant leg. Measure out peanut butter into batter in second bowl; mix well. Stir in peanut butter chips. Drop batter in small mounds into the pan, alternating flavors. Put into the oven. Give one child a spatula to lick. Give the other the beater bar from the mixer.




Enjoy the quiet as they enjoy their chocolate.

I'm trying ...

Wiser women than I have told me to enjoy the baby years we're in right now. And while I'm trying to, sometimes I wonder ... have they forgotten what it's like to have little ones?

Have they forgotten what it's like to have two crying babies? They seem to set each other off, although sometimes they just both need me at the same time.

Did they enjoy feeling pulled in so many different directions? When Alex is protesting the fact that I'm changing his diaper while Benjamin is crying because I'm not holding him and Ethan is telling me a long drawn-out story, while I remember I forgot to get dinner out of the freezer and the dog is whining to go out, well ... sometimes I want to sit down and cry myself.

Did they not have days they struggled to keep up with the housework and school and meals and diapers? Some days I think that all I really enjoy is bedtime - for me and the boys!

But then I see Alex gently patting Benjamin with a look of intent interest and affection on his little face.

I see Ethan playing with Alex without being prompted to.

I see Benjamin growing so quickly ... I'm already putting baby clothes away.

And I realize that those older, wiser moms haven't forgotten what it's like to have babies in the house. They just remember the sweet, precious moments that really matter, and forget the rest.

My mom is right - the days are long, but the years are short.

So through the fatigue, the whining, the lack of ability to have a complete, uninterrupted conversation ... I'll try to remember to look for those small moments that will make for lasting memories.

And someday, when my house is quiet and I miss the constant chatter ... when I have time to read grown-up books and I've forgotten the words to "Good Night Moon" ... when I won't have to plan phone calls strategically to make sure everyone is either napping or occupied ... maybe I'll find myself telling a frazzled young mom ...

Enjoy these years. They go so fast!

You know it's going to be a good day ...

... when, as he's peeing, your child drops half of a Lego man in the toilet and expects you to fish him out ...

... your other child has a messy diaper that is so messy a bath is required to clean him up ...

... and it's not even 7:00 yet!

Happy Monday everyone! :)

Ten Minutes of My Life

Ok. This has not been the greatest week, but I have high hopes for next week. So in an attempt to see the humor in some of the chaos, I give you the true story of ten minutes of my life last night. Or less, I'm not sure - I wasn't checking the clock. :)

It all started with Mama needing a bathroom break. Because even mothers have to go sometimes. I typically take Alex with me - between the dog and the older brother, it's just safest that way. So just before I got my pants fastened, Alex lost his balance. He managed to fall directly on his face - no hands - from a sitting position. I'm not sure how he did this, but apparently he's inherited my innate grace. When he landed on his face, he cried. Of course. I would, too. He also bled from the inside of his top lip. (Ok, there really isn't any humor at all in that. It was rather upsetting to both of us.)

So he's crying, I'm trying to calm him and simultaneously see where the blood is coming from and fasten my pants. Because it would seriously offend Ethan's sense of propriety if my jeans would end up around my ankles. So I get everything properly fastened, and Alex is nearly hysterical.

By now, Ethan is standing next to me asking what's wrong, why is he crying, is he hurt, etc. I manage to very calmly tell him to go get his pj's on, get Alex to stop crying long enough to wipe the blood out of his mouth, and start to nurse him.

About that time, Yellow starts dancing around and whining. Obviously he has to go outside. Normally, I would just ask Luke to take him out, but he was already in bed because of a blinding headache and ringing in his ears. (His not-feeling-well on Monday ended up being a sinus infection.) So I hope that Yellow will make it until I'm done feeding Alex - he doesn't take long to eat, at least.

Meanwhile Ethan has his jammies on and has gotten himself some juice out of the fridge. Almost immediately, I hear, "Ooooh, nooooo!" I ask what's wrong.

"I've spilled my juice. And it's on my pajamas. AND IT'S GOING TO STAAAIIIN!"

Because staining his clothes is the haunting specter of his six-year-old life. Like most six-year-olds, of course.

I tell him to take a napkin and dry it off the best he can, and I'll deal with it when I'm done feeding Alex. And taking Yellow outside.

I get Alex tucked snugly into bed and told Ethan to go change his pajamas while I take Yellow out. I come back in and look at his pajama top. His red pajama top, that you cannot even see the grape juice on. I try to find a wet spot, and I'm not finding anything.

About then Ethan comes out in his clean pj's, so I asked him where the wet spot was.

"On the back."

"On the back? How did you get juice on the back of your shirt?"

"Well, I was wearing it backwards."

Oh. Obviously.

Thankfully, things calmed down pretty quickly after that. So here's hoping next week is much better than this week!

One of those days

I know you've all had them; those days when you wonder if you're doing anything right. I don't want to post details because I'm trying really hard not to put up anything that would embarrass Ethan when he is, oh, about thirteen. Although, as I type that, I realize it's quite likely that EVERYTHING will embarrass him when he's thirteen ...

Anyway, here's what today was like:

I wonder if I'm completely screwing up my son.

Alex has officially spent an entire day being crabby.

Luke is sick and spent the day in bed (this was supposed to be his Good Friday day off from work).

I've discovered I apparently have no willpower when it comes to banana cake with caramel frosting.

Ethan is completely out of clean underwear.

And so I am very happy to see the end of this day. As they say in "Lily's Purple Plastic Purse", tomorrow will be a better day.

I hope.

Time Flies

Does getting weepy while sorting laundry mean I'm hormonal? Or just too emotional?

I was sorting laundry, and realized that Alex's socks aren't tiny bitty baby socks any more. Oh, they're still quite small (obviously) but not in a newborn if-you-drop-them-they're-really-hard-to-find way. And Ethan's socks - well, they are getting hard to tell apart from mine.

It seems like such a short time ago that Ethan was wearing little socks, and the sweet red overalls, and the adorable shirts that snapped at the bottom ... well, you get the picture. I look at him now - reading, writing (however reluctantly!), pretty much self-sufficient, and I wonder ... where did the time go?

And already, Alex is moving past the helpless baby stage. He's scooting around, getting into everything. He's laughing at the noise it makes when you spit toothpaste. (He's such a BOY!) He's babbling and talking so much.

I love each new stage, but it also makes me nostalgic for the previous stages. (And Luke didn't think that my idea of always having a baby in every stage was a good one. Go figure.) I wish I could hold on to a little piece of who they are right now - because they change so quickly.

So I'm trying to savor each day, along with the challenges it brings.

When I have numerous things I'm trying to get done and Ethan wants me to come down to the basement (for the forty-second time) to look at what he's building, I'm trying to bite back the impatience and summon up genuine enthusiasm. He won't always want to share each triumph with me.

When he wants help with something I know he could do on his own, I'm trying to be patient and walk him through the steps he needs to take. Someday soon he won't want any help.

When Alex is up for the third time during the night, I'm trying to treasure those quiet moments when it's just the two of us. Someday he'll sleep through the night. Someday he won't let me rock him, with his soft head tucked under my chin and his sleepy weight so warm in my arms.

When he wants to be right next to me all the time, I try to remember that he won't always prefer my company to all others (or most others, if Ethan or Papa is around!).

I've heard that good parenting is working yourself out of a job. So why doesn't anyone tell you how bittersweet that is?

A time to laugh ...

Motherhood brings a lot of entertainment with it, I've found. Actually "parenthood" is probably a better term, since Luke finds at least as much humor in our children as I do.

Some things are funny right away ... it's really hard not to laugh when you find yourself saying something like, "Don't lick the cat!" Or maybe, like Saturday night while we had company, "Don't put your lips in your brother's mouth!" (And yes, I have said both of those. I wish I'd kept a list of all the things I never thought I'd say.)

Some things can take a few hours before they make you smile ... like learning that fabric shopping alone is so much more enjoyable than fabric shopping with a five-year-old and a four-month-old. Or having to cut silly putty out of the baby's hair. (Tonight was an interesting evening.) Or when your son mutters about how bossy you are because you expect him to go from the bathroom to his bedroom to get his own pj's, and ends his muttered monologue with the phrase "lazy woman!". (Yeah. That didn't go over so well.)

Then of course there are the times you're trying to discipline the child while you're trying not to laugh. This is further complicated if your spouse is around and also thinks the misbehavior was humorous. Not only is difficult to convince a child that they've been naughty when dad is literally shaking trying to hold the laughter in, but it makes it that much harder to control your own laughter.

And don't forget the things that you figure will take years before you can laugh much about them. Right now I really don't find the "rude noise, obnoxious boy" stage very entertaining, although I can see how others would. Maybe years from now, when Ethan is a refined gentleman (a mom can hope, right?) that memory will just be funny and endearing.

But I think my favorite entertainment is listening to Ethan and Alex laugh. You know those uncontrollable belly laughs? The kind that you have to join in just because it's so infectious? Lately I've realized it's even more delightful when the two boys are laughing about the other one laughing.

I'm so thankful for my sweet boys!

Alex, and my thoughts on gross little boys

Here's my baby ... he's getting so big already!




And here he is again ... I guess it's been a long day!



Now, just to be fair, I took a picture of Ethan to post, too. He doesn't change as fast, but we don't want the baby to get all the attention, right?

I won't be posting the picture, since it ended up being one of him with his mouth open and his partially-chewed dinner showing. He thought it was very funny, and that I should definitely put it on our blog.

I doubt you'd find any mention of it in any milestone charts, but little boys definitely become gross at some point. They go from being sweet, adorable little angels to rude-noise-making, fascinated-with-any-bodily-functions, let's-see-if-I-can-gargle-with-my-own-spit BOYS. To illustrate my point, Ethan is currently alternating between wiping drool off of Alex's face and wiping it on me, and making a stuffed animal "poo" on Alex. Both of these activities are extremely funny. To him, anyway.

Now, I know this is normal. And that, hopefully, he'll outgrow some of this behavior. (But I want you to know that it's a lot easier for you to say that. After all, you're not the one with slobber wiped all over you!) In the meantime, you just may not see as many pictures of Ethan. Unless, of course, you actually want to see what a chewed-up grilled cheese sandwich looks like.

Edited to add: I read this entry to Ethan. He's laughing hysterically over his own grossness. He especially enjoys the mention of gargling spit.

Brothers

Ethan has wanted a baby in a bad way ever since he was about two, when one of his little friends gained a baby sister. And he's such a good big brother now! He loves to talk to Alex, and Alex thinks he's just the most fascinating person ... Ethan was the first person he smiled a real smile at, and Ethan still gets a smile more easily than anyone else. It does this mama's heart good to see them enjoying each other!