Motherhood | Page 14 | Minivans Are Hot

Cry me a freakin’ river

November 7, 2010 by Kelli

I’ve told you before…I’m a cryer. Crier? Yes…I think it’s crier.

I cry a lot.

I cry easily, I cry loudly, I cry ugly. And if I try not to cry, I eventually burst like a dam spilling my ugly all over whoever is closest to me. Sometimes I laugh to cover the cry, which tends to make the cry louder and even more embarrassing. I blubbered throughout my entire wedding ceremony.

I don’t know why! Weddings are happy right?

I’m off topic. I’m reeling myself back in. I said all of the above to lead into the fact that I cried this weekend. I cried a lot, I cried hard and I cried ugly. This is the part where you all need to feel sorry for Lee, the unintended target of all my crazy.

It started Thursday afternoon when Lee came home from work to find me wrapped in two blankets in front of the fire place trying to thaw out after a frigid morning at Purina Farms on Sloan’s field trip. The conversation went something like this:

Lee: “So what’s the plan Saturday?”

Me: “Mom and Dad are keeping the kids overnight Friday night and are bringing them back Saturday around 3:00.”

Lee: “Well, I forgot to tell you, but the elders are supposed to do XXXXXXXXXXXXXX on Saturday morning and we’d really like our wives to come along.”

Me: “No! I can’t. That’s my one day off.”

And then…the dam broke. It was a face in hands, over the top, Sweet Mother of all that’s Holy cry from the gut. And here is why:

Every single second of my life right now is scheduled. From the moment my feet hit the ground to the second my head hits the pillow I have things that need to be done and places I need to be. Every single evening of the week is occupied and by Thursday afternoon I had been burning the candle at both ends for so long that I was dangerously close to burn out.

And I snapped.

Poor, sweet Lee. He didn’t even see it coming. Again my fault. I haven’t been communicating because I didn’t want to complain since I’m the one that committed to all of these responsibilities and I hadn’t really communicated to him how desperately I needed a day to myself. But being the Wonder Man that he is…and given that I freaked him out a bit with my impressive meltdown, he immediately told me not to worry about it, he’d go without me and youjuststayhomeandgetalittlerest.

Amen.

So I did and it was bliss. I edited 30 pages of the book I’m working on, did six loads of laundry, got my house relatively cleaned up and never once changed out of my pajamas. I didn’t wipe anyone’s behind or take out a single sippy cup. By the time they all came home I was completely rejuvenated.

Until…

We decided to take down the crib this weekend and put Landon in a big bed. Good grief, just writing that sentence brought tears to my eyes. I took the mattress out of the crib while Lee went to search for a tool box and I just looked down into it and literally seven and a half years of baby floated through my head.

I remembered myself a brand new mom holding Sloan on the floor next to the crib because we had just moved in and I had no place else to sit. I remembered walking in and seeing Sloan coo at his mobile hanging above the crib. I remembered walking in to find a fat, happy little boy staring at me for two years until he was replaced in the crib by a tiny, precious surprise of a baby girl.

I remembered buying new, girly bedding and excitedly putting it in the crib despite the fact that I had purchased “gender neutral” bedding the first time around. I remembered staring at that sweet baby in pink for hours, her tiny little backside up in the air as she slept. I remembered the sound of her climbing out of the crib before she was even two…

I remembered placing Landon in the crib and looking down at him, wondering if he really would be the last to sleep in it. I remembered the long nights as I rocked with him in the chair next to the crib. I remembered the dread I felt as I thought of disassembling the crib.

Then Lee came back in the room and sat down on the floor. He stopped for a minute and looked around. “This is sad,” he said.

Cue breaking dam.

I tried to laugh it off like, Hahaha- isn’t it so silly to cry over this? But I couldn’t laugh and I turned away so he wouldn’t see my ugly cry face and I sobbed those deep, soul wrenching sobs. Kind of like I’m doing right now.

Then Lee got all choked up, which made me cry more…and made me feel better. I wasn’t crazy to cry. It is sad. It was time to do this, for sure. But it was also sad. That season of life went by so quickly and I’m not ready for it to be over. Of course, it might not be. There is always the possibility that we’ll have to pull the crib back out at some point…but for right now, that’s not the case. For right now, that crib is lying in the basement, a reminder that life is flying by in solitary blinks.

Cry with me, won’t you? It feels good. And it hurts.

After a few moments of sobby sobs, I reigned myself in and handed Lee the screwdriver he needed. Of course, my tears quickly turned to laughter…or at least mild chuckles…when we realized we weren’t at all prepared with a big bed to move Landon into. We have to round up box springs, which we hadn’t even thought about when we decided to make this move.

Oh and, incidentally, who in their right mind decides to move a child out of his crib the night of daylight savings? I think we were so focused on ripping the bandaid off that we didn’t think clearly and logically through what we were doing. So for now, the boy sleeps on a mattress on the floor, which suits him just fine.

And me? I have a feeling there will be a few more tears shed over this little milestone. Ugly gopher tears. Lee – prepare yourself.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: children growing up, mom's crying, Motherhood, taking down the crib

Drowning

November 3, 2010 by Kelli

First of all, I am very pleased with the way that elections turned out last night. There were a couple of issues that disappointed me and the fact that Harry Reid is still in office annoys me to no end, but more than anything I’m glad that there is a better balance of power in Washington now. Perhaps we can finally have reasonable discourse and work toward the good of the people. For a great analysis of how I feel about all this, visit Nicole’s blog. She essentially said everything I want to say and said it better than I could have.

I’m going to have to bail on a post today. I’m trying to do a better job of not posting bad, rambling posts on the days when I don’t really have anything good to say. Actually, I’ve got a couple of posts rolling around in my head but I just don’t have the time to write them well right now. You see, I’m smack in the middle of a little editing project. My deadline is 13 days away so I need to hunker down and dig in my heels. Let me just tell you – trying to work from home when you have small kids is hard. I have a newfound respect for working moms. And I have a newfound respect for the 5:00am hour. Me and 5:00 are becoming well acquainted.

I don’t like 5:00. AM or PM, come to think of it.

On top of that it’s Holiday season which means there are class parties, birthday parties, Christmas parties and every other kind of party you can imagine to plan and prepare for. And rehearsals for our church’s Christmas Musical (which is going to be amazing – tickets go on sale this Sunday!) And field trips. And big, fat giveaways on 5 Minutes for Mom coming your way – be on the lookout!

There’s also election night coverage to watch, which I know I don’t have to do but it’s so entertaining to listen to husband pants yell at the TV that I can’t pull myself away. There is food to be cooked, lunches to be made and boo boo’s to be kissed. I am speaking on a panel in a couple of weeks at the St. Louis Women in Media’s Fall Networking Event alongside several other amazing women so I need to prepare myself for that, and I need to find a baby sitter and I need to find a babysitter for a date night next week.

Date night! I love date night.

I’m not complaining. Life is full right now. I love it. I go to bed knowing that my day was packed and productive. But life is also tiring right now and I’m learning to say no. It’s hard to say no. But I am doing it. I said no twice today. It hurt because they were big no’s. But for now, no will do.

Oh, I forgot to add that I need to do laundry. I feel like I mention my laundry woes here quite a bit. It’s probably because I’m always waist deep in laundry. How does that happen?

Speaking of laundry – for those of you who are the mother’s of little girls, you must invest in several pairs of socks from Little Miss Matched. It’s the most brilliant idea ever conceived. Sell socks in packs of three, all of which coordinate but don’t match. This way you never have to worry about trying to match socks. There are leg warmers and underwear and shirts and tights and even dresses like this one:

I am going to sign off now because the whole point of this post was to tell you that I’m not going to post today. See? This is exactly the type of rambling, boring post I’m trying to avoid.

Clearly I need to work a little harder on that goal of mine.

Filed Under: Christmas, Family, Holidays, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Random, Thanksgiving Tagged With: Little Miss Matched, Random blog posts, WAHM, Working Mom

Baggage

October 26, 2010 by Kelli

I’m carrying a little extra baggage today. It has settled in a most unattractive place. It’s not flattering. I don’t like it.

It’s under my eyes.

I haven’t been sleeping well lately. It is likely due to the fact that I have so much going on it is hard for my brain to unwind and calm down at night. Combine that with an almost three year old who has developed wonky sleeping habits and you have…baggage.

Landon is a crafty little bugger. I go back and forth as to whether I should put him in a big kid bed or keep him in the crib. I’m not sure I’m ready for the battles of a big kid bed, but him laying in bed and whining “Mommy” over and over throughout the night (and starting most mornings around 5:45), is killing me softly. Purple under my eyes is not my color.

Dangit.

This is what I hear many mornings and, recently, in the middle of the night as well:

“Moooommmyyy…I’n firsty.” “Moooommmyyy…I needa go potty.” “Moooommmmy? Tan you tome hewe pwease?”

I don’t know what it is with our boys but both of them have been difficult sleepers in their toddler years. I’ll have to share sometime the nightmare we went through with Sloan when he was 3. Just thinking about those months makes me shudder. I’m praying we don’t have to endure that kind of difficulty with Landon too, but his recent nighttime behavior is scaring me a little. The biggest problem of all is that he is so dang cute! And he knows it and is workin’ it. And me? I’m just really, really tired. There is no rest for the weary.

Take last night, for instance. I had a rehearsal at church for our upcoming Christmas Musical. It was a pretty intense scene we were working on with lots of movement and singing so it took me a bit of time to unwind when I got home. At midnight Landon started crying. Thankfully he fell back asleep after only a few minutes. At 12:49 Sloan came into our room with an issue that needed to be dealt with. Fifteen minutes later I crawled back in bed determined to fall asleep. I did, thankfully, only to be awakened at 4:00 by a massive wind storm that shook our walls so violently I found myself wondering if I should move everyone to the basement. And at 4:30 the smoke alarm in the basement started chirping every 30 seconds indicating a dying battery. At 5:27 Landon started calling for me and intermittently singing Jesus Loves Me. By 6:30 he was done being patient and his cries escalated to the point that I knew I needed to drag my weary body out of bed.

And today we start all over. There isn’t time to rest, no time to sleep and it will be another late night.

Please…someone tell me I’ll sleep again someday. Please? Puh-leeeeeze?

Filed Under: Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: Kids, Motherhood, sleep, sleep issues in children

The day I questioned everything I knew to be true

October 25, 2010 by Kelli

Saturday night found Lee and I in the minivan, kids in tow, heading out to the mattress store to purchase two new mattresses. Never mind that the kids desperately needed them. Never mind that Tia’s mattress was so cheap that is was literally falling apart and becoming a potential hazard. Never mind that both mattresses had been peed on so many times they could be deemed a health code violation. Never mind any of those things. The fact is simply this:

I went out on Saturday evening to buy mattresses and thought it was fun.

Hi, my name is Kelli and I am a bona fide minivan mom.

Ah, but we haven’t even got to the best part of the story. What? Surely you know there would be more to this story than the fact that I had a hoot buying twin mattresses on a Saturday night, right? A hoot!

It was the incident that occurred when we returned home that sent my world aspinnin’. It started simple. We came home so Lee could drop the kids and I off and return to the mattress store to pick up our most exciting purchases. We had to remove the car seats and fold down the back seats and clean up a bit. And it was during this event that I began to question my entire identity.

The title of my blog is Minivans Are Hot. With the operative word being Hot. I know, I know…Minivan and Hot together in a sentence is an oxymoron. And most days I would beg to differ and would launch into a diatribe about how it’s sexy to be a mom and how minivan moms have it goin’ on and I would work my hardest to convince you that I was right. Until Saturday night…

What I found in the back seat of my minivan was anything but Hot. Let’s start with what I found under the seat, shall we? It was sticky…it was brown…it had flecks of leaves and dirt stuck to it. What was that?!

From there I removed the kids car seats to find enough dried, crumbled food to feed a small pack of wild baboons. It was sealed into the lining of the seat fabric and had to be scraped out with my fingernail. *heave* Don’t even get me started on what I found in their seats.

But the piece de resitance came when I crawled into the way back and looked inside the cup holder. It is here that I gasped, looked at my husband and exclaimed, “Gross! This is why minivans are NOT. HOT.” Then I clutched my chest with the gravity of my statement and fell in dramatic Disney Princess fashion onto the seat, the back of my hand against my forehead…

No I didn’t. That last part didn’t happen – mostly because I wouldn’t want to lay on those seats for $100. Maybe for $1000, though.

In the cup holder sat dried, crusted, molded bread. It appears my children are stock piling food in the back seat of our minivan in the event that a giant meteor should come crashing down to earth and we need to seek shelter inside the car for a significant amount of time. It also appears that they have eaten portions of a sandwich and then shoved the remaining portion in the cup holder and have, every day for who knows how long, been looking at this rotting sandwich and ignoring it.

It’s like I’m raising little cave people!

I promptly dug out the rot and marched to the trash can. My husband, sensing my impending melt down went dashing for the Shop Vac in the basement. Being the super hero that he is, he spent the next half hour sucking the muck out of our minivan while I went inside and lectured my children on the importance of throwing away rotten food. I also tried to talk myself out of changing my blog title from Minivans Are Hot to Minivans Are A Place Where Horrors grow Beneathe the Seats and in the Cupholders While You Yourself Obliviously Drive From Here to There Thinking You Are Looking Fine When Really You Are Controlling a Moving Science Experiment.

But in typical Hero fashion, my man came inside just as I was certain that my entire online identity was going to have to be realtered and yelled “Ta-Da!” I walked outside to see the seats clean (hey look! The fabric’s grey…) The cup holders clean…er. They still have a sticky substance that I can only assume will need to be chisled out at some point (probably just before we decide to sell the car). And it smelled much more pleasant too. It was actually quite nice in there.

I smiled at him and jumped into his arms. Small birds flitted about our heads as he spun me around and when we kissed little animated hearts floated up into the dusky sky.

Alright…that last part didn’t happen either. Sometimes I wish I lived in a cartoon.

Despite the cleanliness of my car, however, I couldn’t shake the fact that I had outwardly acknowledged the un-hotness of my minivan. And so I’m here to retrain my mind. And if any of you are having a hard time believeing that Minivans Are Hot like I am, then why don’t you join in with me as we repeat the mantra over and over.

Minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are not, minivans are not…

NONONONONO!!!!

Let’s try again.

Minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are hot…

Do you believe it?

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Lee, Minivans, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: Cleaning out the minivan, identity crisis, Minivans, Minivans Are Hot

DotDotDash

October 20, 2010 by Kelli

Last night I had the wonderful opportunity to join some local bloggy ladies at a boutique here in town where we enjoyed wine, appetizers and shopping! It was like a beautiful dream.

Organized by the lovely Lisa (my partner at STL Family Life) and Ria Sharon of My Mommy Manual, a group of us got together and talked all things blogging, mommy and fashion. We were blessed by Alyson, owner of a Clayton boutique called DotDotDash, who provided the goodies and acted as our personal shopper for the night.

It was a Fall Fashion Haul and was geared specifically toward the busy mom. That’s me! (And probably a lot of you…except for you guys that read here daily – you know who you are). Alyson provided us with $100 store credit and pulled outfits for us based on our lifestyles. My outfit included yoga pants and a wrap.

Awe-to the-Some.

I also pulled several cute dresses off the racks, eyed a rockin’ hand bag and drolled over the racks of jewelry. Alyson’s shop boasts styles from the fabulously casual (ala yoga pants) to super chic and sassy. She even had Jeggings (Jeans + Leggings = Jeggings). I tried a pair on and guess what? I’m not ready for Jeggings. Extraordinary Mommy, Danielle, however, put them on and looked all kinds of awesome…

Alyson also stocks adorable gear for the wee ones and I guess I probably could have used some of my store credit to purchase something for the kids…

But they don’t need anymore clothes. They have grandmother’s who act as their personal shoppers and they do that very well. I, however, am convinced that one can never have enough pairs of yoga pants. And now that I am the proud owner of my first wrap, I have a new wardrobe essential.

Alyson’s main purpose behind her store is to outfit moms. She wants to be a blessing in mother’s lives by providing comfortable, fashionable and affordable clothing that suits our busy lifestyles. It’s a noble ideal and I am so glad to know about this little gem of a store!

Alyson is offering a discount to any of our blog readers who would like to come in and shop. Mention Minivans Are Hot and receive 15% off your purchase! Or send your husband and tell him to mention Minivans Are Hot when he buys you Christmas presents. Here is the one of the completed looks that Alyson pulled together for me:

Yoga pants, tank top, long sleeve cotton V-Neck and a lovely wrap to pull it all together. The three shirts cost under $100 total (the pants were mine). I also got a rockin’ sweater that will work well with the yoga pants or with jeans, or khakis. I can easily make five to seven outfits out of those pieces. FOR LESS THAN $100!

And here is look number two – an amazing wrapknit sweater with oversize buttons and loads of sass. Makes me feel cute..and warm. I love it.

If you’re interested in fun, affordable and chic fashion, visit Dotdotdash. Happy Tuesday!

You can follow Dotdotdash on Facebook here. If you have a chance to head to the store and you end up buying something, leave me a comment and let me know! I’d love to hear all about the goodies you got!

Filed Under: Giveaway, Motherhood Tagged With: busy mom apparel, clothing duscounts, Danielle Smith, Dotdotdash boutique, Melody Meiners, Ria Sharon, Suzanne Tucker

Remember When?

October 19, 2010 by Kelli

Remember when you could wake up slowly and relish the morning?

Yeah…me neither.

Remember when you could look at the clock and smile, then roll over and sleep another half an hour.

Nope. No recollection.

Remember when you were first married (if you are married, of course) and you would look lazily over at your spouse then burrow deeper beneath the covers just because you could?

It’s vague.

Remember when you could slowly eat breakfast and maybe even read a little or watch TV in the morning?

Not so much.

Remember when mornings were relaxing?

Kind of.

Remember when you didn’t have to hit the ground running, making sandwiches, gulping down the breakfast off of the plate of the kid who refused to eat, making beds, brushing teeth, breaking up fights, keeping potty training little ones from peeing on the couch, waiting-for-the-bus-in-the-freezing-cold-without-shoes-or-undergarments-on-and-hoping-the-neighbors-don’t-drive-by?

Remember those days?

They’re long gone now.

It dawned on me this morning that it will probably be 25 years before I have a leaisurely morning again. That’s a little depressing. Not that mornings are horrible. They’re just hectic. I look at the clock each morning and give myself a pep talk:

You can do this. You are in control. You are strong and confident. You will survive. Today’s gonna be a great hair day. You’re good enough, you’re smart enough and doggonit – People like you.

Some mornings it really works. I hop out of bed and I am on.my.game. Like a ballerina I float through the house leaving peace and cleanliness in my wake. (And my hair looks fabulous!) Most mornings, however, I’m more like the proverbial bull in a china shop. I’m stumbling from here to there and by 8:00 it appears that a natural disaster has swept through our walls. I’ll give you one guess as to how this morning has been.

Thank God for caffinated tea (and sometimes coffee)! I couldn’t move without a cup of hot, legalized uppers to get me through the mornings. Can I get an amen?

Top of the mornin’ to you all!

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Random

Dream a Little Dream

October 13, 2010 by Kelli

I am a dreamer. A day dreamer, night dreamer, all the time dreamer. A dreamer with an active imagination. With all this dreaminess there is often quite a bit of disappointment. Because dreams don’t always come true. Of course, the fulfillment of dreams all depends on how you view things.

When I was little I dreamed of being a famous actress. This is a common dream for most young girls, I suppose. At least most young girls who like to be on stage…and I did like to be onstage. I learned at a young age, though, that being famous would mean a lot of elbowing around, jockeying for position in a pool filled with talent. I may be a dreamer, but I’m not a big fighter. It only took a few experiences of rejection to scare me away. Maybe I should have tried harder, but the fact is this dream was just that – a dream. It wasn’t a passion. You have to have dreams combined with passion to power through that type of rejection.

As a young adult, I was made aware of a tiny little gift I had with words. That’s nicer than saying I am long winded and just happen to be able to spin my wordiness in a way that’s comprehesible, right? About this time I did my first Beth Moore Bible Study and I determined that I would one day write Bible studies like Beth Moore. I dreamed of holing myself up for hours at a time with nothing but my Bible and computer.

It didn’t take me long to realize that God created only one Beth Moore. That’s not to say I couldn’t write a Bible study or two someday, but trying to match the spunk and verve with which Beth Moore writes is like saying I’m going to go out and be a 7 time Tour de France winner like Lance Armstrong. Just because I can ride a bike doesn’t mean I can win the race, ya know?

As I’ve gotten more mature (notice I didn’t say older) my dreams have evolved a bit. I dream more realistically. I dream about what my children will think of me when they’re grown. I hope it’s good things as a result of happy memories. I dream of seeing my children grow and mature in wisdom and knowledge. I dream about what they will be like/look like/act like as teenagers and adults. (Sometimes I fear this to!) I dream of where life will lead us as a family. I dream about the experiences I want to give my kids – where I want to take them, what I want to expose them to, who I want them to see and meet.

I dream of living in a mansion and having two maids – one to clean my house and the other to do my laundry. I dream of handing my personal shopper a grocery list and having her return an hour later with bags in tow, then handing them to the cook who prepares all our meals for us. I dream of the private jet that will shuttle us to our private island in the Carribbean…

Um…not all of my grown up dreams are realistic.

I do dream of exposing my kids to a world outside their own. I dream of taking mission trips as a family. I dream about serving our local community together as a family. I dream about introducing my children to the concept of missions in a real and tangible way, passing along the heritage that is so rich in our family’s history.

I dream of sleeping through the night.

I dream of having a greater involvement in the Russian culture with my children beyond simply teaching them the language. I dream of having a greater impact through my writing beyond simply sharing the mundane moments of our days. Even when the mundane moments are pretty funny.

For example as we drove in the car yesterday Sloan asked me when our dog, Sadie, would have puppies. I told him she wouldn’t because she was fixed to not have puppies when she was a baby. “Oh,” he said. “Did you fix her because it’s so messy and gross for dogs to have puppies?” “Um…” I answered. “Yeah,” he continued. “When dogs have puppies they shoot ’em out all goopy and black…like a rocket.”

I dream of better monitoring what my children see on TV.

I dream of touring Europe with my husband…. I can check that one off the list! The only problem is now that I’ve done it once I dream of doing it again and again. Gonna have to reign that one in.

I like dreaming. Sometimes it’s all that gets me through the long days. Other times, however, it breeds discontentment so I have to keep the dreaming in check and be as realistic as I can, while still allowing the occasional hope to peek through (like the private maid and personal chef – I’m not letting go of that one too easily). The thing with dreams is that so often you can look back and see God’s hand in them and see how they came true. Sometimes they are realized in a way that’s a bit different than you imagined, but often they’re even better than what you imagined.

Dreams are good. Dreams are scary. Dreams sometimes require action. And that may be the scariest part of all. I can’t sit back and lay out my dreams before God and then wait for Him to make them happen. Sometimes I might have to chase a dream without knowing if I’m supposed to trusting full well that He will make that clear to me in time. This sometimes requires a rather frightening leap of faith.

The best part about trusting God with your dreams is looking back and realizing He gave you far more than you could have asked or imagined. Even in the heartaches of the past, I see how He carefully wove the fabric of my life to bring about the fruition of dreams I didn’t even dare to dream. Perhaps that’s easy for me to say as my life is abundantly blessed. I would be remiss if I didn’t confess that there are hidden heartaches and unrealized dreams that are hard to let go of. But if I’m willing to look beyond those circumstances and really stare into the face of what’s before me I could say this without a single doubt:

My life is a dream come true. And I never even tried to dream this up.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: dreams, faith, God, hopes, trusting God with dreams

Potty Training 103

October 8, 2010 by Kelli

I’m not one to talk about all things potty on my blog. It isn’t my schtick. So you will not be getting all the gory details of Landon’s potty training, as diappointing as I’m sure that is to all of you.

Actually, things have been going as well as they could be around here. We’ve had plenty of accidents and when I say plenty I mean I’ve got six pairs of soiled underwear sitting in the basement waiting to be washed today. But we’re also having plenty of successes too.

The issue with child number three is the mobility of our lives. When I was enduring this conquering this with Sloan, we stayed home for a week. We did not leave the house. It was like house arrest…with leaking bodily waste. But we got the job done and after seven days it was over.

The second time around proved a bit more challenging thanks to an active four years old and a newborn in the house. There were many more accidents, but ultimately, we survived.

The third time around is almost feeling like an impossibility. He is having to be trained in Pull Ups most of the time, which is not overly effective in my opinion. But he really doesn’t like the picture on the front to disappear so that works in our advantage quite a bit. So far we’ve only had one major accident in public and that was yesterday at Walmart. Thankfully we made it out of the store before the dam broke.

He told me he had to go, then changed his mind and said he didn’t have to go. And I believed him. Sheesh. It’s like I’ve never done this before. Mom fail.

Otherwise we’re doing alright in public. And at home. Thankfully we are planning on getting new carpet soon so I’m not overly concerned when accidents happen on the floor. In fact, I’m kind of glad because I figure it will speed up the much needed process.

And speak of the devil, he just said he needs to go potty. Excuse me while I go fulfill my motherly duty and get up close and personal with my child. No one ever said motherhood was boring, right?

Filed Under: Family, Gross, Kids, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: Landon, Motherhood, Potty Training

Does this make my butt look big?

October 5, 2010 by Kelli

To all the men who read my blog…you know who you are. I just want you to know that I’m on to you. I’ve almost got you guys figured out. Oh yes I do. I have now birthed two beings of the male persuasion and raising them is giving me unique insight into all of you. Be very afraid.

My most recent insight come to me this morning in the form of my seven year old who has suddenly become very aware of what others think and how his peers perceive him. This is not something that surprised me, although it makes me sad that this awareness has creeped in so young.

This morning I laid out his clothes for him, as I do every morning that he lets me. Some mornings, when he’s feeling particularly ornery and independent he wakes up and dresses before I can get to him. Because it’s chilly out today, I made it a point to get to his clothes before him so that he would wear pants. Because the boy hates pants.

I laid out a pair of loose fitting cargo pants. They were a cotton material and I thought he would like them because they weren’t tight and they fit more like sport pants. I paired them with a Star Wars T-Shirt to sweeten the deal and prepared breakfast. Suddenly Sloan came stomping into the room.

“Mom, I am not wearing these pants,” he huffed.

“Why?” I asked, preparing my argument for why he could, indeed, not wear shorts when it’s 40 degrees outside.

“People will laugh at me,” he replied.

“Why would people laugh? Those pants are cool!”

“No, they’re not,” he moaned, slapping his hand to his forehead.

“Why are they not cool?” I said, stifling a laugh.

“Look at the back,” he said, turning around.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It makes my butt look big in the mirror!” he wailed.

I let him change into jeans. Then he wanted to change into a tie dye shirt, “because that’s really cool.” I’m trying to win the war, folks…not the battle.

But this just proves that us girls are not the only ones checking out our butts in the mirror. You guys do it too. And you care. You care about image and how you look. This isn’t isolated to my kid, because my husband…he cares too. So does my brother. I’ve kind of been surrounded by the male species most of my life. You care. You check. You build outfits based on the perception of your butt.

Your secret’s out…