Say It Enough, You'll Start to Believe It
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Today is our busy day, which means I hardly have time to breath, much less hang out at the computer. So I leave you a picture (or three), then I’m off…
Eating yogurt by himself for the first time
I love that smile. And yes, that is a toad on her shoulder courtesy of her cousin Cade.
He's got a great laugh.
The title comes from the movie, Newsies, spoken by the adorable Christian Bale as Jack Kelly. Just a little useless entertainment trivia for you – I’m full of that sort of information. Today, I am feelin’ all hoity toity.
I’m sitting in the cafe at Lifetime Fitness with my little HP Mini 1000 feeling like a rock star diva while sipping on a healthy smoothie. The internet is down at our house and so I came here to get away from the kids to get some work done. I really think I might cry when I have to send this computer back. It’s so fun! and, unfortunately, I did not win the laptop on the Momlogic contest, so all hope has flickered out – at least for the near future. *sigh*
Honestly, though, while I’m a little disappointed, I’m not all that upset. I have spent some time the last few days reading posts like this, and those stories do amazing things to one’s perspective.
Lee and I are very blessed. Blessed beyond measure, really. When I look back and see the way that God has provided for us in the past, in times when it didn’t seem that we were going to make it, I am humbled. Because even in those moments, we were surrounded by good things.
We have so much. We have our own health and the health of our children. We have amazing parents and siblings, such a godly network of family, that surround us with love and joy. We have a home and working cars and more food than we need (much more food than we need)! I mean, it’s just so much.
And it’s time to share. I grew up with parents who gave and gave and gave. My parents opened their home to anyone who needed it. They gave money where it was needed. They sacrificed time for the benefit of others. And I married a man who loves giving as much as they did.
Over the years, however, I am ashamed to admit that Lee and I got lost in our quest to make and earn and acquire and we forgot the simple joy of giving. This past year, we went through the Crown Financial Ministries class and were reminded, once again, of God’s desire for us and the way we use our finances.
So we began praying. And the Lord laid people on our hearts and we, grudgingly at first, gave. And it was a wonderful feeling. So we gave a little more. And it was even more fun. And we realized that giving really is more fun than receiving, as cliche as that may sound. And so, we’ve been impressed to give just a little more. And we’ve been praying about where we should give. And after reading the stories and seeing the photos from the Compassion bloggers, the Lord answered that prayer.
If you haven’t read any of the stories from the Compassion trip to India, I highly recommend it. It’s astounding the power that ministry is having all over the world. Lee and I are excited to sponsor our own child through Compassion. We’ve been praying about it for several months and we finally feel like the time is right.
And I am so very excited about it…
1. We’re leaving town today to go to Conway to visit Lee’s family. I’m not excited about the 6 hour drive, but I am excited to get away for the weekend.
2. We found out we were getting a nice tax return and decided to purchase the bedroom furniture that I’ve had my eye on for about two years now. I’m near giddy about this. This marks our first big furniture purchase in our nearly nine years of marriage. We don’t make financial commitments easily.
3. Li’l and Anoop got voted off American Idol last night. It’s the little things, people.
4. I’ve got some really fun writing opportunities coming down the pipeline. I’m having a blast.
5. I cut Sloan’s hair myself this morning and saved us 15 bucks. Just, please, don’t look too close at it. kthanks.
6. We joined Lifetime Fitness. And it’s awesome. I want to live there forever and ever. Today I’m going to go sit in the Eucalytus steam room. I’m such a diva.
7. I’m halfway through Harry Potter book 6, which means I only have a book and a half to go until I find out what happens. I gotta say, the Harry Potter books are amazing.
8. It’s a beautiful day and spring is finally here to stay.
9. We’re buying our flowers next week and cleaning up the landscaping. I can’t wait!
10. My kids are adorable as evidenced by this video.
Don’t you love dancing babies? Happy weekending to you all!
The St. Louis Bloggers Guild new site is up and running and it looks awesome thanks to the lovely Melody. Why not head over there and take a peek? Also, last week, a feature I wrote for 5 Minutes for Mom ran on a great new site called MyWorkButterfly. I highly recommend reading the article and joining the site. And, tune in to 5 Minutes for Mom over the next couple of weeks as they are beginning their Mother’s Day contests and, ohmygoodness, they are giving away some GREAT stuff. I’ll be doing a review of the HP Mini 1000, which one lucky person will take home so keep your eye out for it. (I get to keep the Mini for 3 weeks, then I have to return it – boo.) Anyway, that’s all for now.
Do you ever have those days, or weeks, where you feel like maybe, just maybe, this is the moment when it will happen. When every ounce of composure you’ve managed to muster up to this point has slowly been siphoned away and you will finally lose your mind once and for all?
Yeah, me too. In fact, I’ve had a couple of days like that. I love my children with every single fiber of my being, but, well, some days I feel like the life is being sucked out of me; like I can’t suck in a deep breath between the constant demands that surround me. And I’m just tired and frustrated.
I just sent my daughter to her room where I have half a mind to leave her for the rest of the day. The trying three’s are upon us and ohmygoodness, they are trying. I told Lee last night that it’s a good thing she’s the cutest child in the world, because right now, she’s just a little stinker.
I know that these years are short and they go by quickly and when they’re gone I’ll miss them and blah, blah, blah. But today, right this very moment, I’m just fed up and annoyed. Given that my face is breaking out like a prepubescent teenager, I am making the assumption that I’m also slightly hormonal, which is naturally not helping at. all.
Oh, and have I mentioned that my youngest, who is also about as cute as a child could possibly get, is teething and getting over a nasty virus which means he’s crying near constantly? Yeah, cause that helps mommy out a ton.
Some days this thing called motherhood drains the life out of me. Some days, I just feel like maybe I’m not cut out for this. I look around and see women all around me handling their children with such grace and patience and I, unwisely, compare myself to them. All of the bad mommy moments rear their ugly heads and the good moments – the ones where I am that graceful, patient mommy – get buried.
I have to remind myself not to do that.
I know that we all experience these days. I know it’s okay. I know that these years won’t last forever. I also know that I won’t miss these moments where I feel bombarded, overwhelmed, under appreciated and generally frustrated.
What I will miss are these moments:
and these:
oh, and also these: 
The mounds of laundry, the constant mess, the crying, whining, fighting and general feeling of suffocation are only a small part of the picture. They are worth it every time I get a grin, a hug, a silly dance or a funny observation. There is redemption as I hear my five year old pray before dinner, beseeching God’s mercy and grace on his family. Those are the moments that I live for – the moments that make days like today tolerable.
Well, those moments and blogging, of course, because I feel much better now that I’ve vented for a moment. Now, off to deal with the girl…
We are back in the land of the living, though Landon is still a sick little boy. He did sleep last night and his fever finally broke, but he’s so congested and he’s just wiped out as evidenced by the fact that it’s 8:15 and he’s already taking a nap.
Because yesterday was such a rough day, I wasn’t able to post my feelings on the conscience protection plan for physicians. In 2008, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services passed a measure that protected physicians who choose to not perform abortions. In March of this year, the new administration announced plans to rescind this protection. Midnight of last night was the deadline to sign an online petition stating your opposition of this measure and I’m sorry I did not get that link posted earlier.
But, it’s not too late to let the President, the HHS and your congressman know that you vehemently opposed such legislation.
It is baffling to me how two sided people can be on this issue. Pro-Choice advocats clearly only support freedom of choice when it serves the purpose that they want it to serve. But what about a doctor’s freedom to choose whether or not he wants to participate in something that he may find unethical or, at best, detrimental to the health of his patient? Rescinding the protection for these doctors is the very antithesis of the freedom of choice.
Shame on those who support this and are pushing for it’s acceptance.
If you have a few moments today, please visit the Freedom2Care site to find out how you can support physicians rights to not practice abortion. There are several links within the site that will explain what you can do to show your support for our physicians and their right to practice medicine without persecution. And, if you have a blog, take a moment to post about this topic and pass on the above mentioned site.
Do not let this matter go unannounced. We need to band together to protect our freedoms, which are slowly being pulled away from us. Let’s vocally support our rights as citizens to choose doctors that meet our ethical standards and let’s support our physicians who are fighting to do what’s right even in the face of opposition.
I have a theory I’d like to posit. And no, I’m not sure if I spelled or used the word “posit” correctly – moving on.
Without fail, when I make the concerted effort to get up early in the morning so I can have a quiet time or do some writing, my kids also wake up extra early.
Undoubtably, if I sit down for a moment midday to rest, read a book, read blogs, write, someone will fall down and skin their knee, need a drink, have to use the bathroom, or, as is the case right now with Landon, just suddenly need a few extra snuggles (which I am gladly doling out so this post may take forever to finish).
Okay, I’m back and let me just say that I just got some of the sweetest kisses and hugs from that precious baby. Wow…I hope he’s not getting sick.
Anyway, I posted a status update on my Facebook page the other day regarding this particular phenomenon and received a fascinating response from one of my friends that got me thinking. Her idea was that children can sense a change in air pressure, so if we move early in the morning, it stirs them. While I find this to be a fascinating theory, I’d like to take it a step further.
Thus, I have now established The Probability of Interruption, which I feel certain should eventually be adopted as a true Theory. Or not. I don’t know much about that sort of thing, actually. I’ve always been a literature kind of gal. Me and math are not friends.
The Probability of Interruption states that as the heartrate of the mother, the bpm (beats per minute), rises and falls, so will the bpm of the child also rise in fall in opposite and similar effect.
Got it? No?
An example – this morning, I took my resting heart rate when I woke up. I had a resting bpm of 56. Once I rose and moved around enough to use the bathroom, get dressed, come out to the computer and sit down, my bpm had risen to about 62.
And Tia woke up. Even though it was quite early and she went to bed late last night, she still woke up. Why is this? Why, it’s because of The Probability of Interruption. As my heart rate rose, do did hers. Though I made little to no noise, she was stirred from her slumber. In this instance, her heart rate rose in similar effect to mine.
Now, after rushing to get everyone ready for the day and Sloan out the door, my bpm was at roughly 68. I sat down at the computer and after 5 minutes of sitting, it had fallen back down to 63. It was at this precise moment that Tia hit her brother and he came to me crying. Moments after dealing with that, both children were in need of a drink. Why is this? Because…you got it! The Probability of Interruption. As my heart rate dropped, the kids’ bpm’s rose in opposite effect thereby causing inappropriate behavior and the metabolic need for sustenance.
This is why I have such a difficult time getting anything done. If I want to clean, someone will ultimately thwart that plan. If I want to take a shower, you can be sure that someone will pull open the shower door with some sort of desperate need – all because as my heart rate slowed into a relaxed state, theirs rose into an agitated state, thus necessitating (?) the need to interrupt my reverie.
So, in effect, The Probability of Interruption pretty much guarantees that for the rest of my life, I will likely be interrupted any time I begin to get too comfortable. My theory obviously proves that as fact.
And, while this theory can have some mild effect on fathers, it appears that mostly and mainly The Probability of Interruption applies to mothers alone. Even if dad is the one to wake up early and mom’s bpm remains in the resting state, the children will most likely either sleep through dad’s movement, or they will wake up due to the noise that dad inevitably makes and come wake mom up rather than disturb dad.
So there you have it, ladies. You now have scientific evidence that your children are hard wired to make sure that you never fully accomplish anything to the full extent. Oh, and incidentally, this theory works just as equally if mom is doing anything that raises her heart rate. This means that you and your husband will most likely want to make judicious use of the lock on your bedroom door if you get my drift…and I think you do. (blush)
Now I’ve embarrassed myself and my bpm is surely rising because the kids are going wild. Gotta go!
Here’s something that many of you already know about me: I am a crier. It doesn’t take much to get me going. I know this isn’t a big deal , but it’s not something that I love about myself.
You see, the problem is that I am a noisy crier. I can’t cry softly. If I try to cry softly, it usually just builds up until I explode into a slobbering, blubbery mess. This can be quite humiliating when I’m, say, in a movie theater.
I sobbed throughout much of my wedding ceremony. The tape of the service is almost comical because I’m sniffling so uncontrollably. But once I start crying, there’s no stopping that train until I get it all out.
I have, over the years, developed a couple of defense mechanisms in an attempt to reign in my sobbiness. The first is to fight with every fiber of my being against the tears, which can only work for so long. At some point, though, when my throat is throbbing painfully, I have to sneak away to some place private where I explode like Krakatoa spewing tears and snot in every direction. This is, obviously, not ideal but is sometimes necessary. It’s served me well at the last couple of funerals I’ve attended where I’ve managed to keep it together relatively well until Lee and I get in the car, then I dissaolve and scare my poor husband near to death. I don’t think he’s gotten used to this side of me yet.
My other defense mechanism tends to rear its ugly head at the most inappropriate of times. I laugh. It’s horrible and even more embarrassing than the crying itself. What’s worse is the fact that I have little control over what happens in an emotional situation. I never know if I’m going to be the loud crier, the suppressive exploder or the obnoxious laugher. It just happens.
This was especially embarrassing a couple of months ago when I took Sloan to the doctor for his five year check up and he had to receive shots. Oh, have I mentioned I hate needles? And I hate watching my children go through pain? This was a lethal combination for me that was sure to lead to some sort of humiliating reaction.
As the nurse shoved a needle into my son’s arm and he started to cry, I felt the all too familiar lump form in my throat. Of course, I’m trying to be brave so I can’t cry in front of him. The next thing I know, I’m laughing near hysterically and the nurse is looking at me like I’ve just grown a freakishly large second head. I felt like a jerk. But I didn’t cry.
On Friday night, we had a family night. We set up the projector screen and shined the movie Marley and Me up on the wall. It was sweet and fun, until Marley died. My sweet, tender-hearted Sloan got so upset that he buried his face in Lee’s chest and sobbed.
Me? I laughed. I laughed hard, all the while blinking back tears. Tia, who was sitting on my lap, kept turning around and looking at me and saying, “What, Mom? What hunny?” And that only made me laugh/cry harder until I’m laughing and racking in sobby breaths.
Geesh.
So, if any of us are ever together during an emotional time and I start laughing callously, please do forgive. And take comfort in knowing that all it really means is that I’m a big fat baby who has no control over her emotions. Don’t you all feel sorry for my poor husband now? I do.
Oh, and incidentally – for those of you who have not shown Marley and Me to your young children, I’ll let you know that while it is very sweet and generally wholesome, there are at least two scenes that we had to fast forward and I had to clear my throat several times to cover up bad words. It’s not a movie I would let my kids sit down and watch without Lee and I sitting with them to monitor. But mostly I found it to be a great movie – just be prepared to comfort sad kiddos at the end.
6:00 am – Lee rises to go to an early breakfast. I should get up with him as it would make the morning routine much smoother, but I don’t. I roll over and go back to sleep.
6:50 – I am awoken by two, rather heavy, children bounding onto my chest. I take a few minutes to catch my breath and shoo them out, assuring them I’m planning on getting up right away.
7:01 – I drag myself out of bed. And go into the kitchen where my kids are attempting to make pancakes. I put the kibosh on pancakes and tell them I planned on oatmeal instead. A brief tantrum commences from the three year old. It resolves quickly when I threaten to send her back to bed.
7:10 – I lay out clothes for the older kids while I go and retrieve this little bundle of sweetness:
7:14 – Everyone is dressed, but I must redress Tia who has put her pants and her underwear on backwards and is complaining of a “yedgie.”
7:16 – Start breakfast. Give Landon a cup of milk to get him to stop doing this:
7:18 – While the milk is heating on the stove, I help the kids transform their beds from this:
to this:
7:20 – Landon spills a mug of tea that Lee did not finish last night. I grab my handy-dandy ShamWow and test old Vince’s theory on its power to lift liquid out of the carpet. FYI-Vince lied.
7:22 – Sloan’s panicked voice calls me back to the stove where the milk is about to boil over. He’s stirring desperately.
7:26 – The mess is cleaned up and the oatmeal is ready. Everyone sits down to enjoy.
7:38 – We’re finished eating and the kids run off to brush their teeth while I clean up.
7:45 – Teeth are brushed, hair is fixed and shoes are on. Play time can commence. I continue to clean the kitchen, which apparently threw up over night whilst I slept.
Light Saber battles occure daily. Landon is becoming increasingly violent with his.
8:01 – Head to my own bedroom. Must make it go from this:
to this:
8:05 – Banish fighting kids to the basement so I can sneak in a quick shower.
8:15 – finally get in the shower and while there realize that we are out of soap so I have to use Lee’s Old Spice Body Wash. I smell like a dude. Also take note of just how nasty the shower is and make note to clean it…sometime…
8:30 – take break from getting ready to change Landon as the smell of death has slowly permeated the back of the house. Banish still fighting children to the backyard.
8:40 – I’m finally finished getting ready. I started out looking like this.
yikes!
The finished product is this:
Like my new sweater? I got it yesterday for 5 bucks. Whoop!
Take a few moments to stop and smell the roses bushes.
9:15 – After Carol picks Sloan up, I give the little kids a snack, then head out the door to go to a friends house for the morning. Decide to run through Starbucks on the way because I’m already exhausted and I forgot to eat breakfast.
And right now? I’m really, really tired. My Starbucks wore off about an hour ago so I’m headed to my nice, fluffy couch for a nap.
One year and four months ago, I became a minivan mom. It was a necessary step. I was roughly 15 months pregnant with Landon and there was no way on God’s green earth that three car seats were going to fit into my SUV.
Lee and I sat in the grey-walled room of the car dealership and worked out the details of the sale with a very kind man and all the while my stomach churned. I mean, it’s just a car. It’s no more than a mode of transportation, right?
Then why was it so painful to transition to driving a minivan? I asked this question many times in the weeks following our purchase (that and why in the flippin’ world do minivans cost so daggum much?)
After Landon arrived, I had to admit, the van was extremely convenient. Especially given the fact that Sloan figured out quickly how to buckle his own seat belt, thereby making our transition from home to van much more manageable. And we stuck with the standard black minivan with a grey interior because somehow, in my distorted little mind, that seemed just a little bit cooler.
Today, I am very resigned to my status as a minivan mom. I even completed the look by arriving to my son’s preschool several times this year still in my pajamas. Niiiice. Might as well look the part, eh?
You see, the problem is that my mom was a minivan mom and, well – no offense mom – but she was my mom. You know, the older more mature, wiser woman in charge of guiding me through the waters of life. Certainly I’m not old enough to be in the position. It was only yesterday I was heaving a loaded bag of books across Baylor’s campus, worrying about my impending finals. How did I become that mom?
But alas, I am that mom. There’s no way around it. I have three babies (the oldest of which is no longer a baby and preparing to enter elementary school! Don’t even get me started on how I feel about becoming a PTA mom) And, I gotta say, as much as circumstances permit, I am rockin’ the minivan.
So here’s my encouragement to all you minivan moms out there struggling with the stigma. Your minivan doesn’t lower your cool factor – oh no. You, my dear friends, drastically up the minivan’s hot factor. Minivan’s don’t define us – we define them! And I say they’re hot! Can I get an Amen?
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