Mom Interrupted

Unfortunately, it has been one of "those" weeks. You know, the ones where motherhood is less like a warm hug and more like a slap in the face. We had all of the ingredients for chaos on the home front: just got home from a long trip, winter cold season finally hit our house, baby got shots, the three year old was having major mood swings, two birthday parties, etc. I fought all week to get things back to "normal." In retrospect, if I had accepted this new "normal" instead of fighting for the old one, I would have had a better week. When I start my day intent on specific goals (like laundry and dinner) everything that competes with those goals feels like an interruption. The sweet things don't feel like interruptions as much as the messy ones. For example:



William: Hi, Mommy! I'm off to fight the bees. Would you like to come watch me?

A sweet request. Not an interruption. As opposed to:



Me: Uh oh, Georgie. Your boots are dirty. Go outside and stomp on the rug.



George: NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

Now I have an interruption on my hands. But it only feels that way because cleaning up mud and disciplining a toddler aren't pleasant. That wasn't on my list.

When we're getting ready to go somewhere it's easy to have "Get there on time, get there on time, get there on time," racing through my head like a broken record. That's exactly what happend this week:



Me: Hurry, hurry everybody. We're running late.



George: Mommy, don't feel good...

The goal should remain broad: take care of little hearts, minds, and bodies. Then, when I'm cleaning vomit off the car seat instead of reaching my destination on time, I'm not caught off gaurd. That's exactly what I was supposed to be doing. Ultimately the kids don't find peace in a tight, orderly schedule as much as they find peace in a happy mommy. These events aren't interrutions to my life. The interruptions ARE my life.

Training Hearts

Potty training. Using a spoon. Drinking from a cup. I thought those things were tough, but they don't hold a candle to training your child's heart. It's non-stop around the clock and you never know when opportunity will strike. Sometimes I rush so quickly to a discipline issue that I leave an assortment of strange items in my wake: a pan of cold bacon grease on the school desk, a bag of frozen ground beef in the bathroom. No, I'm not crazy. I have toddlers. It's truly a physical and emotional balancing act. Be consistant, but felxible. Be firm, but not harsh. Thankfully, there is a never ending source of grace to meet us each day.

Grace is actually a concept we have been trying to weave into our training recently. Our oldest is three, so it's hit and miss...

Me: William, you were fussy this evening, but I decided you can have a cookie anyway. That's what grace is - getting something you don't deserve, just because I love you.

William: YEAH! I can do what I want and still get cookies!

Sometimes Dave takes a different approach to discipline than I do.

Dave: George, there's no need to drop your food. I am perfectly willing to listen to your complaints if you voice them in a reasonable, logical manner.

(Sometimes they simply don't feel like being logical.)

They also don't understand the concept of "tough love" very well...

Me: William says I make a really mean face. Can you believe it?
Dave: Wow! ...I've actually known that for some time.

I've started the "repeat what I said," but it just doesn't work when you're one year old -

Me: Stop bothering your brother.
George: Hi, Mommy.
Me: George, are you listening? Stop bothering William. Stop bothering...who?
George: Pooh.
Me: No! Stop bothering WILLIAM. Stop bothering who?
George. Winnie the Pooh.

Me: (sigh). Just go play. Bother whoever the heck you want.

Well, tomorrow's a new day with brand new training opportunities. And plenty of new grace.

Christmas 2012 - Thompson Style

We just got back from a wonderfully refreshing time in northern CA with my family. The Thompson's are a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type of family. They can have a good time anywhere. Throw three kids ages three and under into the mix and it's an instant party. There were seven adults and three kids in one house for eigtht days. The sleeping arrangements were...interesting.

We had one kid on either side of us. I knew the one-year-old talked in his sleep, but WOW. He's almost as active asleep as he is awake. The baby slept in my parents' closet. He normally sleeps for 12 hours, but the day we arrived he decided to start his two week growth spurt. He woke everyone up in the wee hours of the morning - EVERY morning. Sorry about that, Mom and Dad.

One of the best parts of the trip was spending time with my sister Rachel from Oklahoma. We went out to coffee and talked until we couldn't breath. There's nothing ordinary about my sister. Even a basic converstaion with her can be interesting:

Rachel: Do you have a bottle of asprin? I'm getting a headache.
Me: Sure.

Me: Here you go.
Rachel: What's this for?
Me: Um...didn't you JUST ask me for some asprin?
Rachel. Oh. Yeah.

Me: Wow.
Rachel: Oh my gosh, Sara. There's a lot going on. Don't judge me.

She's not the only one. My parents are out of control. I know they resisted buying as many toys as they wanted to, but somehow we still came home with half of Toys R Us. Maybe it wouldn't have been so much if they hadn't ALSO bought them toys when we were out and about.

Me: Mom, where did they get those trains?
Mom: They didn't want to put them down, honey.
Me: So...you bought them?
Mom: I couldn't resist!

I guess it's okay for Grandma and Grandpa to break the rules. Besides, if they did, William was right there to remind them. He's the rule police everywhere we go.

"We don't say hate."

"We don't say butt."

"We don't refer to Santa as a satanic materialist who teaches works righteousness and must be destroyed."

In general the kids handled the festivities surprisingly well. The one-year-old was the one we had to watch the closest. Within five minutes of waking up from his nap he had -

- opened presents that weren't his and eaten cat food. But that seemed to satisfy his curiosity and he was a little easier after that. In general they were content and thankfull little boys throughout the trip. They loved spending time with thier relatives and they enjoyed thier gifts. Although, when all was said and done, the gifts they enjoyed the most were -

- the ones they could hit Grandpa with. Those turned out to be the punching baloons from Uncle Matt and wrapping paper tubes.

We came home exhausted but with full hearts.

I figure if I unpack a bag a day starting today I might be done by Valentine's Day. I'm in noooooooo hurry.

Bedtime Routine

Bedtime. Just when the day is supposed to be winding down, I have to muster up every last ounce of energy I have left and plunge into the bedtime routine. Before kids the day would end all by itslef. Now we have to force it to come to a close, armed with milk, jammies, books, kisses, and tons of patience.

First, bathtime. Bathtime doesn't happen every night. Actually, since having baby #3, we only bath the children when they are going to be out in public for a significant length of time. So don't show up unannounced.

After bathtime I lay towels down to soak up the flood of water on the floor and hustle the kids into their room for jammies. If I don't act fast, someone will pee on the floor - usually within about two minutes. Sometimes bad attitudes flare up around this time of night and someone winds up on time-out. George loves time-out. The last time I went to check on him I found out why.

They are not technically supposed to bring toys with them to time-out, but I can't really blame him - considering I have forgotten he was there more than once...

Another tactic I've been using lately for bad attitudes is imitating the kids to show them how aweful it sounds when they fuss.

This is also quite effective. The fussing stops instantly. They are either thinking, "Wow, we sound terrible when we fuss," or, "Our mother is crazy. Let's obey so she doesn't eat us." Either way, it works.

Time for the pass off. Right about the time the kids go to Daddy, the baby wakes up. I get some one on one baby snuggle time while Dave reads to the kids.

I rejoin the other two when it's time to get tucked in. No fussing this time. The kids actually love going to bed. I bust out "I've Got Joy Like a Fountain" at the top of my lungs. It doesn't help the headache, but it's their nightly request.

Before turning off the lamp and starting the baby lullabye CD, I check in with the three-year-old's potty routine. If he skips it he will be up at all hours of the night.

Me: Did you go potty, William?
William: Sorry, Mommy. The poop was not available.

Me: (sigh)
William: I make you tired.

I close the door to the sound of their sweet voices comforting each other in the darkness. I check on them after they fall asleep and straighten their covers, lay their stuffed animals next to them, and tuck in arms and legs hanging over the bed or through the crib slats. No matter how exhausting it is, I know this is the part of thier childhood I will treasure the most.

Eating Out

It's hard to believe that just three years ago Dave and I were eating out with no kids. Now our eating out experience looks a little different. It's rare that we take all three kids along, but when we do it's an adventure. Tricky, yes - but we have so much fun! Kids act so differently than adults at a restaurant. They do things I would never do. The last time we took the kids out to eat five differences stood out to me.

1. I would never:

...jump into the waitress' arms for a giant bear hug as soon as we walk in. George did. She didn't mind. It wasn't until she seated us that I realized she was still carrying him.

2. In all the times I've been to a restaurant I KNOW I've never:

...taken a nap under the table. But it's not Peter's fault. I'm the one who put him there. As Baby #3, he tends to get stashed wherever we can find a relatively dark, quiet spot. (I did put a blanket down.)

3. I generally don't:

...insist on seeing the person who cooked my food to tell him, "Thank you for the spaghetti. It was de-YIS-is!" William is a very thankful boy. He thought some random person stopped what they were doing, ran into the kitchen, and made spaghetti just for him. He was quite impressed.

4. I have left the to-go bad on the table before, but I've never left:

...my shoes. It's something I personally would definitely notice, but I guess one-year-old's don't. Thankfully Dave noticed them as we were walking out.

5. Before we had kids Dave would always throw out a casual, "Thanks," to the waitress as we left a restaurant. Now we ALWAYS have to say:

"Sorry for the mess."

Our kids tend to be pretty well behaved when we eat out, but I truly feel sorry for whoever has to clean up after us. I do it everyday so I feel their pain. But we haven't been banned from any restaurants yet. Just another fun family experience!

When Daddy Helps

I don't know what I would do without Dave. There is no way I could run "Baby Land" all by myself. This is what our family looks like going to church:

So even between the two of us we're a little short-handed sometimes. When Dave gets home from work he immediately takes the kids off my hands. How? By laying on the ground.

All he has to do is lay down and the boys could climb on him for hours. He is their favorite toy. No complaints from me when he's playing with them! But...occasionally when he's helping them get ready for something it doesn't turn out quite the way I expected.

On this particular day he dressed them to play outside. I found William with his pants on backwards, and George was wearing his big brother's shoes. And not just any shoes - CHURCH shoes. Then there's the occasional distraction when he's helping me clean up. Not a distraction from work or a phone call or the tv...but from the toys themselves.

Me: They have SO many toys.
Dave: Yeah...but this guy is pretty cool.

I guess this wouldn't be a problem for him if we had girls. I hope.

Often I find the house strangely quiet and I look around and find a scene like this:

When it's story time with Mommy we sit on the couch with books. When it's story time with Daddy they make a blanket fort and Daddy makes up the story himself. He's invaluable to me and the kids can't get enough of him. As we speak he is the "sleeping dragon." He fell asleep on William's bed while playing "knights." I guess every hero needs his sleep. I love you, Honey!

Boys and Girls

William just turned three. Lately we've been talking to him about the different roles of boys and girls. To him the biggest difference is that boys wrestle, and girls are the pretty, frilly, curly ones he likes to kiss at church. But he's still a little confused...

William: Someday I'm going to be a beautiful mommy!
Me: No, you're going to be a handsome daddy. A mommy is a woman. You're going to be a man.

William: Oh. Well, maybe I'll be a handsome woman.

Obviously we still have a little work to do in this area. Sometimes the relatives don't help...

William: I know why God made you a girl!
Me: Why?
William: He made you a girl so you could wear makeup.

Me: Oh. Do you wear makeup?
William: No! Only girls wear makeup.

William: But...sometimes Grandma puts makeup on me.

Thanks a lot, Mom! At least he knows boys and girls should look different. That might explain why he was so upset about my haircut.

He refused to look at me. When he finally forgave me he said I looked pretty...even though I look just like him now. I guess we'll both have to settle for that. :)