Mommy's Breakfast

I'm really not sure why I do it. I could, and probably should, stuff a granola bar in my mouth and call it good. But some mornings I feel really ambitious and I try to sit down with a cup of coffee and a hot breakfast. I tried it again a couple days ago. This is what happened.




I made breakfast for the kids. Then I made some for myself and put it on the counter with a plate on top to keep it warm. The baby required about 20 minutes of attention before I could get him settled and sit down to my not-so-hot-but-still-warm breakfast.



William: Mommy, Georgie ripped the book!
Me: Uh, oh. Tell him to come to Mommy.



Me: Georgie, don't rip the books. Wait...do you have a dirty diaper? Yep, let's go.



Me: Ok, all better, Georgie.
William: Mommy, can I have some milk?




Me: Here's some milk.
George: Juice!




Me: Georgie, here's some juice.



William: Can we sit with you?
Me: Honey, I really need you to go play so I can eat.



George: Bite? Bite?
Me: No, sweetie. You already had breakfast.



Me: Ok, guys. Mommy needs to eat, so you're going to have "room time" now.
William: Yay! I love room time!



Me: The gate stays up until Mommy finishes breakfast. Play quietly.



(Fighting, screaming, crying)



Me: That's enough, boys. Mommy said play quietly. You need to be kind and share. Now I'm going to back to the table, so you need to work it out yourselves.



William: Mommy, Mommy! Can you please help me be a ghost?




George: Me! Ghost, too!



Me: There. You are both ghosts. Now I'm going back to the table and I don't want you to call me again.



William: Mommy? Moooooooommy! I have to go pee.



Me: Ok, go potty and come right back.
George: Yay! Room time all done!



Me: No, Georgie. Room time isn't over yet. William will be right back. Play quietly.



George: Mommy. Mommy. Mommymommymommymommymommymommymommymo -



Me: WHAT????
George: ......Hi, Mommy.



William: Mommy, I'm all done going potty. I need you to let me back in the gate.




Me: Ok, now Mommy needs to finish breakfast. I need just ten minutes of alone, quiet time. PLEASE.



(Sigh)




Well, the quiet part never did work out. Neither did the "hot breakfast" part. But I figure I have many years of hot breakfasts ahead of me and only a handful of years to make ghosts and be called "Mommy." So I'll be happy with my cold clammy pancakes.

Having Kids Close Together

We have been blessed to have our children close together. It's not something I can recommend or not recommend because everyone's personality is different. But for us, it's been a blast...a blast AND a challenge. My hands are always full, my ears are often ringing, and it's a gaurantee that my floors are strewn with dinosaurs. (Yep, just checked.) When you have children close in age it can be hard to tell from their behavior who's actually older. Our middle child likes to think he's the oldest. For example...



..he likes to supplement my discipline. I heard William screaming on time out the other day, only to find George beating him with a plastic hammer. Apparently he thought my choice of punishement was insufficient. I guess "Don't kick a man when he's down" hasn't worked it's way into our training yet. Often from the other room I hear:



George: Sit down, William!
William: No. I will not obey you, George.



William: Ouch! Mommy, my hair!!!

But William is not quick to give up his big brother role. While George (2) is more of a dictator, William (3) is a teacher and a comfortor.



George: Itchy!
William: There's nothing we can do about it, George. Take a vitamin.

A benefit of having three babies close together is that sometimes they can interpret for each other.



George: Baby sad.
William: He's scared. He thinks Mommy's head looks like a wolf.

But sometimes I'm the only one around to interpret and I'm not quite prepared for what I hear. Like when William was making up silly words and landed on a real swear word by mistake.



William: Peter, you little b******.

(Yes, I promise that one was an accident. So if you ever hear him say it again...it's NOT an accident.)

Our kids have had to become independent more quickly since there's always a baby to take their place. We are enjoying the benefits of this. They are learning patience and sharing from an early age. They also have to share Mommy's time. Sometimes when my hands are full George takes it upon himself to answer his own questions.



George: I jump on the bed, Mommy?
Me: Well -



George: Sure, George!

I honestly can't keep up with all the questions, requests, stories, etc. they throw at me all day long. Everyone says to soak up this time, which is what I try to do, but sometimes it's more like drinking from a fire hose. At times all I can do is stand quietly in one place while toddler antics swirl around me.




William: Messiah just called. He's coming to fix the light bulbs.



George: Mommy! Mommy! Elmo POOPED!

It doesn't matter how much they make my head spin every day. When they're in bed at night I can't wait to hear what's on thier minds when they wake up the next day.



Me: Did you have a good night's sleep, William?
William: Yep. I slept for three hours. I dreamed about donkeys. They were sisters.



William: But I'm feeling really pregnant today...

Parenting little ones close in age definitely requires teamwork. Dave jumps in when he can...or whenever I let him. Sometimes you just know when the "help" will create more work for you in the end.



Dave: Would it help if I made dinner tonight?
Me: Oh, honey...no.



Dave: Yeah, I guess me making dinner is like you giving directions - painful for the other person to watch.

They are just getting old enough for us to start reaping the biggest benefit of having kids close together - they are best friends. I just heard William, from sitting on the toilet, call to George to come give him a hug. (I intervened when I realized he was also trying to help George up onto his lap.) They look out for each other and they miss each other when they are apart. They are thick as thieves, in the good and the bad. "A strand of three cords is not easily broken." (Ecclesiastes 4:12)

When Moms Turn Into Grandmas

If you're like me, you grew up with a wonderful, loving mom who raised you with a firm but tender hand. She taught you manners, meticulously monitored what you ate, and never accepted disrespect. Tantrums were not tolerated. Bed time was not a game. I didn't eat a pop tart until I was a teenager. And then something strange happens. This woman you THINK you know becomes...a grandma.



Mom: I never let you guys eat this kind of cereal when you were growing up.
Me: So...WHY are you feeding it to my children?
Mom: (giggle)

My mom's parenting skills look very different when applied to her grandchildren. Actually, it's a whole new skill set altogether.



Mom: Honey, let me help you. Grandma knows how to help William obey.



Mom: William...do you want some candy?

Seriously - who is this woman??? We only saw candy on holidays or as a special treat at the movies. Now I think my mom wears pockets just so she can stuff them with gum and candy for the grandkids. Sometimes it appears out of no where...like she has magical grandma powers. It's kind of scary.

Have you ever seen a grandma shopping at a store WITH her grandkids? Watch out. She will snatch a toy right out of your hands. She'll grab the french fry out of your mouth. If the kids' eyes twinkle at it, she will get it for them. The kids (ages 7 months, 2, and 3) have been pretty well trained not to ask for toys and treats at the store. They have even started to enjoy looking at toys and leaving them behind. Again, something my own mother taught me when we were growing up. But when they are with Grandma all they have to do is look at something, or point, and BOOM - it's in the cart. My mom mentally buys them toys even when we're NOT in the store.



Mom: We need to go buy more dinosaurs.
Dad: Shouldn't we just teach them how to share?




Mom: .....No. They need more dinosaurs.

Don't think I haven't tried to use this to my advantage. ("William, tell Grandma you want a gift card to Starbucks for Christmas. Star-bucks. Say it.")

Discipline looks very different from a grandma's perspective. Especially when she thinks her grandkids are perfect.



Me: I don't know what to do with William today. He is being really disobedient.



Mom: Maybe he doesn't really mean it, honey. Maybe he's just trying to tell you how he feels and he doesn't have the right vocabulary yet.

No, I'm pretty sure he really wanted to disobey. My mom went through the three-year-old stage four times and this is her conclusion? My parents never undermine our disciplne when we are with them, but sometimes we're just not quite on the same page.



Me: William is being fussy so he needs time out for a few minutes.



Me: Mom! Are you giving him a doughnut??
Mom: What? He stopped fussing so I thought it was okay.


The reality is, there is nothing like Grandma's love. My mom only sees the kids about once a month, but I send her pictures, videos, and texts every day. I always dreamed about sharing this experience with her and I always dreamed I would be the kind of mother she was to me. I still seek her advice and encouragement daily. Even though at times she seems out of control with giddy grandma love, she would do anything to protect her grandkids. She would lay down her life for them. I just wish she would lay down less doughnuts.

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.