Tag: mom life

Get Your Warm Fuzzies When You Can

Last night was one of those idyll moments. All the kids were happy. I made supper and everyone ate their food. (Ok, one kid snuck his carrots into the trash can, but he ate everything else on his plate!) We had devotions and, for the most part, everyone sat and listened. Supper was a bit late, so we only had an hour before bedtime and the kids decided they wanted to listen to the Pandora Radio Disney station. So, we had the Disney music blasting. One kid was standing on the coffee table doing a great lip-syncing job, three girls were choreographing their best dances on the other side of the living room, the three youngest were playing some complex game that involved ninja moves and pushing each other around the dining room in a plastic wagon. I was sitting on the couch with my ten and twelve year old boys on either side of me. My husband was sitting on the other couch. I wanted to be sitting next to him, but my boys had voluntarily sat down next to me and it was kind of like one of those Wildlife Adventures, where you stand real still and try not to spook the wildlife. While my twelve year old is still willing to give me brief side-hugs, the ten year old has decided that all physical contact is “gross” and he will run away if you approach him with arms out-stretched. So, I was sitting real still, just enjoying the fact that he was leaning against me. The teenagers fled the scene and were hiding out in their room, but, hey, who needs teenagers? 

 

I was sitting there thinking, this is so wonderful, all of us just hanging out, the kids all happy. And then, I kid you not, the song from Lion King, “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” came on. And I got all teary-eyed. My husband raised his eyebrow, his expression saying, “What on earth is wrong with you?” I decided it was too complex an emotion to try and explain to him from one couch to the other while loud music was playing, so I just gave a watery smile. 

 

Ahhh, the Warm Fuzzies. So nice. 

 

A couple hours later, ten o’clock at night, to be precise, when my daughter ran into my room to tell me that the toilet upstairs had flooded and water was now coming down through the floor and into my downstairs hallway….I was not feeling so warm…Or fuzzy. Also throw in the fact that my husband had left after putting kids to bed to go help a friend with a remodeling project, and I was the only adult on the premises…and then when I texted him about the situation and his only response was “Plunge the toilet”, yeah, all the warm fuzzies were gone.

 

This morning, I sat and read my Bible while I cooked oatmeal. All the kids were still asleep. So nice. Just having a little quiet time in the early morning. Warm. Fuzzy. Then I went to get the bowls down from the cupboard and set them out. Hmm. What’s this? Apparently, whatever child had emptied the dishwasher last, had chosen to do so with really dirty hands. Every single bowl had dirty handprints on them. What on earth. Warm fuzzies gone. 

 

I dropped off my middle schoolers at their school and proudly watched them walk down the sidewalk. My eccentric dresser was looking especially eccentrically elegant. I smiled fondly. Instead of driving off, I had to sit where I was because the car in front of me, a tiny, new-looking, cute little car that had “Cooper” written across the back, was not moving. Instead of just ejecting her passenger, the mom was actually exiting her car so she could go open the cute little trunk of her car and remove her child’s band instrument. The mom was wearing this really cute sweater and snug jeans, her hair was done, and you could tell, even through the pre-dawn light, that she had on all her makeup. Then she hopped back into her cute little car and drove off. I was suddenly very aware that I was wearing my slippers, I hadn’t bothered to even put my hair up in a messy bun, I was wearing my three year old cheap Walmart sweater (cause it’s warm, and cozy) and I was driving a humongous 15-passenger van that will never be called cute. Warm fuzzies gone. 

 

So, I’m sure there is something profound in these observations. Not sure what though. 🙂 Warm fuzzies are great. I love them. They also don’t seem to last long. I guess, if I was needing warm fuzzies to get me through life, I’d be in a pretty bad place. But, if you are just letting those warm fuzzies be kind of like the occasional decadent dessert, it’s not a bad thing. Enjoy them when they come, savor them, and just accept that shortly afterward, you might be plunging a toilet. 

 

Woe is Me

A couple days ago I was having a particularly difficult afternoon with a particularly difficult child. In a big fit of frustration, I retreated to my room and collapsed in my chair. I was about to reach for my phone and zone out on FaceBook for a minute, but thought, hmm, I think I would do better to pick up my Bible. I opened the Bible to where I had been reading that morning and I got smacked across the head by these verses:

 

7 “Will any one of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come at once and recline at table’? 8 Will he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, and dress properly, and serve me while I eat and drink, and afterward you will eat and drink’? 9 Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded? 10 So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’” Luke 17: 7-10

 

We are unworthy servants, we have only done what was our duty…I don’t know if any of you can relate, but I was definitely having a Woe Is Me moment. Look at poor Esther. She has to deal with all these problems. Poor, poor me. Does anyone see how self-sacrificing I am being? Look at me! I don’t deserve this kind of treatment! 

 

It kind of reminds me of when my kids pull an attitude.

Me: Please do this chore.

Child: Why should I have to do that chore??

Me: Umm, excuse me, did you get crowned Queen/King when I wasn’t looking? Why shouldn’t you have to do this chore? You live here. You do chores. 

 

While I am all about focusing on how we are children of God, God loves us so much, Jesus has given us worth because he died on the cross for us…we are also God’s servants. We are his creation. He created us to do good works (Ephesians 2:10). And Jesus himself called us to be servants (Matthew 20:26). We are in the Kingdom of God, and it’s a kingdom of servants. Jesus being the number one example of servanthood (Phillipians 2:8).

 

Feeling sorry for myself because serving people can sometimes be irritating…this is not an emotion I need to be wallering in. I am just doing my duty. It’s what I’ve been called to do. Serve others. And yes, there is a place for setting boundaries and not being a doormat, but I think I can admit that most of the time that I’m feeling sorry for myself, it’s just because I’m feeling resentful about having to serve. I’d much rather be wearing the crown and be Queen for the day. 

 

There is a song I learned when I was kid, back in the 80’s when Psalty the Singing Psalm Book was a thing. (Look it up if you’ve never heard of him.) The lyrics to the song go like this:

Make me a servant, humble and meek, Lord let me lift up, those who are weak, and may the prayer of my heart always be, make me a servant, make me a servant, make me a servant today.

So, that is my prayer for today, May I be a servant, content to do my duty. Knowing that when I do, I am simply following the example of Jesus. 

 

How to Love Your Neighbor

Hello Internet World. Hope you all are well. I am doing pretty good right now. Feeling rather mellow actually. I’m currently sitting at a Panera with my oldest daughter who is home to visit this week. We both have our computers out…writing. It runs in the family. It is my treasured night off that I get once a week and I am feeling pretty peaceful. 

 

I would have to say this a leftover from this past weekend where my husband and I were able to go have a weekend away while my parents watched the kids. It was a much needed break and even though I got thrown right back into the melee when I got home, I am feeling a lot more relaxed about life. 

 

This is having positive effects all around. I’m not feeling on edge, so when the kids are being crazy, I don’t react crazy. I stay calm and that helps everyone else get calm. I’m sure you’ve heard this a million times, Self-Care, take care of yourself…Here’s the weird thing. When you take care of yourself, it helps you to take care of everyone else better. 

 

That verse in the Bible, the Ultimate Golden Rule: Love your neighbor as yourself…it’s hard to love your neighbor if you don’t love yourself. 

 

As a mom, it is so hard to prioritize taking care of myself. It’s my job to be self-sacrificing, the kids come first, my needs aren’t as important. Which is true to an extent, but if I don’t find a healthy balance of taking care of me and taking care of them, if things get out of balance, I end up not being able to take care of them after all. 

 

I know this. I completely burnt out on life several years back and went through a couple years of deep depression. Coming out of that depression took time, and I had to learn some new skills. Here are some things I learned in no particular order.

 

  1. Deal with the inner emotional issues. Get some counseling, therapy, whatever you need, to start digging out the root of your unhealthy behaviors and thought patterns.
  2. Cultivate some outside interests.
  3. Start using your talents that you have allowed to go dormant. 
  4. Speak up. Give honest answers instead of pretending everything is fine. 
  5. Be daring and allow yourself to open up to some trusted friends, show them the real you. 
  6. Prioritize getting regular breaks. Even if they are just a short hour here and there. 
  7. Keep talking to God. Even if you are too tired to read your Bible or listen to a sermon, keep talking to him. He’s the best friend you can ever have. 

 

This is not a complete list, but these are what come to mind when I think back on how God has been teaching me over the years to love myself. And loving myself has made it so much easier to love others. Funny how that works. 

 

Renewing My Mind

It’s been a long day. I’ve been up since 6:30 am. The kids were home today on their fourth day of “flood-cation”. Today we cleaned bedrooms, had devotions, played scrabble, read science books, watched educational tv shows, went to the Children’s museum, did laundry, washed dishes, cleaned up the house, drove my daughter to work,  made supper, cleaned up from supper, finished getting the laundry (including the socks!) folded and put away, dealt with numerous discipline issues, comforted crying babies, resolved fights, and now, I am trying to get everyone to sleep. (Did I mention somewhere in that list, breaking up a spontaneous rollerskating party that occurred inside the house while I was in the shower?)

 

Despite all the chaos and busyness, and despite the fact that there were numerous times when I felt the need to mutter under my breath, “Lord, I can’t do this!!” , it still felt like a good day. I think that has to do with some changes that have been going on in my thought process. 

 

As God has walked me through a healing process over the last couple years, I have been noticing the difference that it has had on how I think and what I think about. When I try to revisit old thought patterns, I find that they no longer satisfy me, they no longer hold my attention. When I try to revisit old stories that I used to weave in my mind, I now find that these stories no longer hold any interest for me. It’s like, they served a purpose, that purpose is no longer needed, and so they are useless. It’s almost been a bit comical. I will be sitting quietly and my thoughts will start to wander and then suddenly it’s like I’ve hit a brick wall. I don’t know what to think about. While it’s bewildering, it’s also freeing. Looking back, I can see how the things I used to occupy my mind with were simply coping mechanisms for dealing with deep wounds. As those wounds have been exposed to light and have begun healing instead of festering, those coping mechanisms no longer have a hold on me either. 

 

And I have literally had to ask God, Ok, what do you want me to think about now? And he was faithful to answer. I mentioned in my last blog that I have been thinking about heaven. I’ve read several books about heaven (I forgot to mention in the last blog that I also read “The Great Divorce” by C.S. Lewis). And now, when I find my mind at rest for a moment, my thoughts wandering, I find myself settling into curiosity. Curiosity about heaven and Jesus and the scriptures I’ve been reading. 

 

It has been a true “Renewing of the Mind”. And the awesome part is, I know that it’s not me that has been doing it. It’s been all God. I don’t have the power in myself to break off these old patterns. I don’t have the power to heal myself. I don’t have the power to change lifetime habits of thought overnight. It has truly been a miracle to watch what God has been doing in my life and my mind. 

 

All of this to say, when I have crazy days that push me to my Patience Limit and wear me out from rushing from one thing to the next, it’s still a good day. A day of thinking about God, pondering his word, feeling his presence as I go about the day. Romans 12:2 says:

 

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

 

I am basking in the wonder of being transformed by the renewing of my mind. 

 

And that’s made it a good day. 

 

I Need an “I Don’t Care” Day.

It’s been a long week. We’ve got flu, strep, a ruptured ear drum, rsv, pneumonia, repeating ear infection, with ten out of eleven children sick. My husband just lost the battle this morning so that leaves me and one of my boys defying the odds. 

 

We have had a lot of support: people bringing meals, food, essential oils, homeopathic remedies, groceries, paper products…lots of people praying. I have felt very surrounded by my community. For that I am thankful. And even though the kids have been sick, only two of them have been bedridden. The three year old who has pneumonia, strep, and rsv is running around the house like everything is normal, the only difference being that when he runs too fast, he suddenly can’t breathe and then I have to give him albuterol. And for anyone who wants to criticize, I haven’t figured out how to get a three year old to stay in bed for his own good when he’s feeling full of energy. As I write now though, in the middle of the afternoon, he is conked out asleep on my bed, so I continue to trust that he will sleep when he needs it. 

 

It’s my daughter’s birthday today. Seven years old. I’ve been trying to keep the kids off sugar this week as we have been trying to recover from sickness, but today we had marshmallow cereal for breakfast cause I let my kids choose what they want to eat for their special days. (Within reason!) We’ll have cake tonight. And spaghetti, as requested. 

 

Right now, I am just sitting in my chair not wanting to move. My house is a mess. Not because it’s been a mess for a long time. It was clean last night. But you know…kids. So, once again it is a mess. I need to keep doing laundry, and fold all the dry stuff. I need to run to the store to get the birthday cake which I forgot on my run to the store last night. I need to wash dishes. I’ve got a list of important documents I’ve got to find in all my paperwork. I need to contact my piano students and let them know that, once again, I’m going to miss their lessons on Monday due to sickness in my home, and I hate that and it’s making me feel guilty. I’ve got some emails to teachers that I need to write. I need to help the one child who was sick all week, come up with a plan for catching up with her school work. 

 

Yesterday I was humming a little ditty to the bible verse, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Phillipians 4:13. I had the verse on repeat and literally was muttering it under my breath the whole day. And it was a crazy busy day. And I did all the things. And Christ gave me strength.

 

But today. Today I’m tired. I still believe I can do all things, but honestly I don’t want to right now. I just want to rest. I just want to sit in my chair with a book, be available if needed, but not engaged. 

 

Today is the traditional Sabbath day. I have always been a bit puzzled as to how a mom is supposed to have a traditional Sabbath day, as described in the Old Testament. People still have to be fed. Diapers still have to be changed. Kids still have to parented. The trash is still going to overflow in the trash can and need a new bag. I can see adults pressing the pause button for the day, I just don’t see how you do it with children. 

I have friends who observe the Sabbath, I guess I need to ask them how they do it. While I don’t particularly feel the need to have a traditional Sabbath day, I would really like a day of rest. For me, that rest would look like me taking one day where I just didn’t care. I don’t care if the dishes aren’t caught up. I don’t care that someone spilled on the kitchen floor and never cleaned it up. I don’t care that the birthday girl left a large craft project on the floor of the living room. I don’t care that the kids didn’t clean their bedrooms today. I don’t care if the laundry doesn’t get folded today. I don’t care if we watch more tv than we should. 

 

Yeah. I just need an I don’t care day. 

 

So, I’m going to post this blog, go buy a birthday cake (this sounds like work, but buying a cake instead of baking a cake, is a form of “I don’t care”), turn on the tv for the kids, pull out my book and sit by the fire for the rest of the day. Until it’s time to make the spaghetti. And give everyone their medicine. And get everyone to bed on time. Cause I’m a mom, and my rebellion can only go so far. 

 

Keeper of the Stuff

It came home to me today that I have a Job Title that I didn’t even realize. I am the Keeper of the Stuff. 

 

My oldest son: Mom, I have to take a present to the party tonight…where can I find a gift bag?

Me: Either top shelf of the hall closet or the bottom corner of the hall closet.

 

My husband: Where did I put my wedding ring? (Construction and wedding rings don’t always go well together.)

Me: Check my dresser.

 

Younger daughter: Mom, I want to give my teacher a Christmas Card.

Me: Check the top white drawer, there’s a stack of cards you can pick from.

 

Son: WE’RE OUT OF MILK!!

Me: No, bottom shelf, behind the eggs, there’s another gallon.

 

Extra Toothbrush? Check the pantry, above the washing machine. Plastic silverware? Look under the brown buffet, in the basket. Butter dish? I think I saw it in the bottom of the Catch All Drawer. Lost paper? Check my stack of papers in my room. Hair clips? Sorry, you’re out of luck. 

 

I think every family probably has one person who is the Keeper of the Stuff. It doesn’t have to be the mom. But, I think it is usually the person who has taken on the role of Primary Housekeeper and Primary Caregiver. It’s one of the requirements of the job: knowing where everything is.

 

Of course, I’m just human. I can’t keep up with everything. My oldest daughter used to help me with this. ANNA! HAVE YOU SEEN THE HANDMIXER??? And then she’d tell me where it was. Of course, she loved to cook and had her own organisation system so asking her where stuff was also had something to do with that old phrase, “Too many cooks in the kitchen.” But, Anna also tended to notice things around the house, so she was always my go-to person to help find something. Now that she lives in another state, I sometimes find myself looking for something  and think, “I should call Anna, maybe she knows where it is!?” Instead, I text my husband who is baffled as to why I am asking him. It just makes me feel better to pull one other person into my fruitless search for that one little attachment to the mixer that I haven’t used in two years. 

 

Hand-in-hand with KEEPER OF THE STUFF comes the job title FINDER OF THE STUFF. Now, this one, from my limited experience, does tend to be filled by the women of the house. 

 

Husband: I have looked everywhere, I can’t find that check I put on this shelf.. 

Me: (Walks over to the shelf, picks up check sitting on the shelf..) You mean this one? 

 

10 year old boy: I can’t find my shoes. I can’t go to school today because all of my shoes are gone.

Me: (Walks over to the shoe box, removes three pairs of shoes that belong to this child…) Put your shoes on, you’re going to school. 

 

Daughter, opens fridge: Mom! We’re out of salsa!!

Me: (Walks over to daughter, looks in the fridge, looks at the daughter…) The salsa is literally in front of your nose. If you walk forward about 6 inches, your nose will touch the salsa jar. 

 

Being the FINDER OF THE STUFF can be annoying. In fact, I have taken to warning my children, when they complain to me that they can’t find something. 

 

Me: If I come up there and find your shoes in less than One Minute….THERE IS GOING TO BE CONSEQUENCES! I don’t know what…But something. 

 

Anyway, I’ve held these job titles for years, I just hadn’t really thought of it till today. They are highly prestigious positions. I am sure they look good on my resume. 

 

A Lovely Evening for a Drive

This evening I had to drive my teenager to her job. It’s a chore I’ve had to take over since my son has been gone away at school. At first I was pretty irritated at having to uproot myself three times a week to drive her to and from work. But, now I’ve just gotten used to it and it’s part of the weekly routine. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes I turn on the public radio station. Usually, I just drive in silence. Living with ten kids makes me cherish my moments of silence. 

 

Today, as we pulled out of our neighborhood, heading towards the ramp to get on the interstate, I was suddenly very aware of the sky and the trees and the light. The sky was winter grey, heavy with coming rain. The trees’ fall colors were muted, covered in a wispy mist. The light was at that wonderful, pre-dusk level, where you can see clearly, but you know darkness is coming soon. 

 

As I pulled onto the interstate the lights of other cars rushed past me. I wondered at how fast the seasons change here in our neck of the woods. A month earlier I was pulling on my sunglasses when I made this drive, squinting against the bright light. Now, everything around me was making me think about cozy winter days, snuggling up in front of a fireplace, playing holiday music in the background. 

 

Our little city is tucked into lots of little hills and mountain ridges and every available ground is covered in trees. This makes driving around town especially enjoyable in the fall as we are surrounded by red and yellow and gold. But today, as I follow the interstate North, weaving through the hills as I coast along with the traffic, the trees all seem to have hunkered down for the night. The sun has already left the sky, their leaves have nothing else to say, a grey blanket  is tucking them in for a peaceful rest. The sky seems to sink lower as the clouds can no longer hold their burden and rain starts to fall onto my windshield. 

 

Inside my car I am in my own little cocoon of warmth, the heater blows it’s hot air, the only sound the slight squeak of the windshield wipers. 

 

I make the whole circuit and finally approach the exit to my neighborhood. I pull over to the far right exit lane, getting out of the way of the three lanes of traffic that are bustling down the interstate, everyone heading home after a long day. I see the red lights on the cars, little beacons disappearing into the distance, and just for a moment, I wish that I was still with them. Driving. Somewhere. Perhaps on a long journey. Part of the great migration. But then I remember my warm fireplace waiting at home, and I smile as leave the interstate and turn into my little neighborhood streets. Slow, meandering roads. Weaving around cars parked on the wrong side of the road as people in this neighborhood interpret the NO PARKING signs as simple suggestions instead of actual orders needing to be obeyed. 

 

I come over a small rise and right there in front of me is a tall tree, Bright Red, leaning over the road. It’s like seeing one of those glamour photos where everything is black and white and then the model is wearing a bright red dress. This tree does not care that it is almost dark. It doesn’t care that all the other trees have decided to turn in for the night, muting their colors. This tree stands bold and tall, flashing it’s bright red leaves for all to see. I slow my car as I pass underneath it. Crane my neck to look up through my window at this shining rainbow.  

 

The last minutes of my drive are quiet. Darkness is here. I pull into my driveway, the house is ablaze with lights shining out of all the windows. Smoke is rising out of the chimney. 

 

What a lovely evening for a drive. 

 

Thoughts on the Nature of Comfort

This past week, my almost three year old had to have a minor outpatient surgery. They had to put him to sleep for a short time and I was called back when he was in the recovery room, very slowly waking up from the anesthesia. It was pretty rough. He was moaning and crying and tossing and turning, trying to yank out the I.V., trying to pull off the monitors attached to his body, but all with his eyes closed, obviously not fully aware of what was going on. When I walked in, the nurse was trying to keep him from falling off his bed. I went straight for him and she asked if I wanted to hold him. Yes. Of course! 

 

She helped me get him out of the bed without disturbing the various wires, and I settled in a rocking chair with him. Even though he wasn’t awake, he knew it was me holding him. He immediately tried to snuggle as close to me as possible, still moaning and thrashing around. I held him tight and whispered in his ear, over and over, Mama’s here, it’s ok. Mama’s here. You’re going to be ok. He would settle down for a little bit and then start thrashing around again. And the whole time I was whispering to him, a litany of Presence. I am here. You are not alone. You are safe. Feel me touching you. Feel me holding you. I’ve got you. 

 

As I held him, I thought about comfort. How, in his pain and confusion, he craved physical touch, craved hearing my voice. In essence, what he really needed was to know that he was not alone. 

 

I thought about all the times that I have needed comforting. Even in my forties, I still have an occasional nightmare that jerks me awake panting in sheer terror. In that moment in time, when my heart is racing, and I am still struggling to sort out truth from fiction, all I want is for my husband to hold me. Let me feel your presence, let me know I am not alone. Let me feel protected in your arms. 

 

As a child with his parents or a wife with her husband, physical touch as a form of comfort is acceptable. But, in our less close relationships, we often don’t feel free to touch each other while offering comfort. So, what do we do? 

 

If you think back and remember times that people have comforted you, comfort basically boils down to letting someone know that they are not alone. I am so sorry for the death of your close one. I just want you to know that I’m praying for you. Here’s a token:  a card, or a cake, or a casserole…I just want you to know that someone is thinking about you enough to take time to get you something. You are not alone. 

 

Or perhaps when someone is suffering with cancer, we pull up memories of times that we faced cancer with another loved one. And the whole point of bringing up these other stories is that we want to assure them that they are not alone. Other people have walked this same path and had good outcomes. 

 

All this makes me wonder, is loneliness actually the worst thing that we can face?  When I think about all the times that I have been sad or heartbroken, I can say, yes, it has stemmed from some kind of loneliness. Perhaps missing friends, perhaps fear of losing someone close to me, perhaps being overwhelmed with life and feeling like I have no one to help me. No one who cares.

 

Two days ago I posted a blog about struggling with depression. I posted it on my Facebook and my friends came out in droves to comfort me. We’re here Esther! We love you! How can we help you? Have you tried these solutions? It was comfort. An offering of Presence from over the internet. 

 

Thank you all. 

 

We were made to be in relationship. Not alone. Relationship with God. Relationship with each other. 

 

“It is not good that the man should be alone…” Gen 2:18a

 

Thanks for being my friends and easing that loneliness. 

 

My Not-so-Picturesque Day in Pictures

I’ve decided to do a Picture Diary of my day today. With some commentary.

Enjoy.

sleeping Noah

So, the two year old climbed in my bed in the middle of the night. This picture about sums up how that feels.

Then at 5:30 am the phone rang. It was the school calling to tell us there was a 2 hr delay because it had snowed. Woohoo! We could sleep in! Except the phone call woke my husband, who decided to just get up. And then his moving around woke up this little guy. So, I got to get up almost an hour earlier than normal on our 2 hr delay day.

nomisnowO

Of course, since there was snow on the ground, the kids’ 6th sense woke them up, and by 6:30 am I could hear little voices exclaiming about snow. (On a school day we get up at 7 am). By the time it was light outside, the kids were ready to go frolic in the snow. I took my obligatory snow pictures. I have ten years worth of snow pictures from this very angle. (Happens to be the inside of my doorway, I’m not going out in the snow.)

Of course, in order to go out in the snow, the kids needed to get their winter gear out of our hall closet.

closetmess

You will note that they left at least one coat hanging in the closet. (No, they didn’t put the hole in the back of the closet, that was already there.)

So, we had plenty of time to play in the snow, drink some hot cocoa, get ready for school. My morning was all planned. I would drop off the elementary kids, then the middle school kids, then I would have just enough time to get to the dentist with my 8 year old and the two little boys, where the 8 year old was getting a crown on her tooth.

Ten minutes before it was time to leave, I sent one of my boys out to the van with the keys to start it warming up. They returned and told me that the van would not start. Oh no. I double checked, and yep, the battery was dead. Now what? My husband was working out of town and while our driveway was full of vehicles, they either didn’t work, or I didn’t have the keys to them. I called my husband. He told me to get his new work truck and jumpstart the van. This involved me having to brush off a bunch of snow, figure out how to start it and drive this humongous stick-shift truck through my yard so it would be close enough to the van to jumpstart. (I haven’t driven stick shift in 14 years.)

jumpstart

But as you can see, I did it.

Which made me feel like this:

workerwoman

The elementary kids were tardy, the middle-schoolers had to run to not be late, but we made it to the dentist on time. Yay.

Then I got home and had to deal with this.

dirtydishes.jpeg

Because the night before, my old dishwasher fell out of it’s opening one time too many. My husband had brought home a new dishwasher and it was sitting in my dining room.

dishwasher.jpeg

And I somehow thought that he would be able to install it for me last night. But, alas, he didn’t have the proper tools with him, so it didn’t happen, and I didn’t wash the dishes yesterday. Sigh.

The rest of the day was spent baking..

muffins

These amazing muffins were enjoyed by most, but some sacrilegious child ate only the sugar top and the blueberries, leaving the rest in a giant pile of crumbs.

I also made stew.

stew

Which one child completely abstained from, and two more children filled their bowl of stew with crackers, but somehow decided they weren’t actually hungry enough to eat it, when all was said and done.

I also made a run to Walmart before supper, where I forgot to buy my dentist-going daughter the award I had promised her for enduring dental treatment. Which meant I had to go out again after supper.

Then, while relaxing with the kids before bedtime, watching some Studio C on Youtube, my alarm went off.

Which was a good thing, because I had completely forgotten that I had an older daughter at work who was counting on me to pick her up. I could not live without all the alarms I have set on my phone.

And so, after bringing her home, I ran around getting all the little kids settled into bed. And now, my day is finally done. For the most part. Just a couple little chores here and there to do on my way to bed.

 

Just Another Fun Day at the Park

This past Friday night I took my four youngest kids to the park. We had to take my teenage daughter to work for her evening shift, so we dropped her off and then picked up some McDonalds and went over to Fountain City Park.

We hadn’t been to this park in quite a while as it’s in a different part of town and I rarely venture that way. As we walked into the park and I was looking for a table where we could eat, there didn’t seem to be too many people around. We walked down a little path and suddenly there were people. Two couples and a guy by himself, they were all standing within fifteen feet of each other. Just standing there, every single one of them staring at their smart phones intently and pressing the screens frantically as if they were playing some exciting action game. It kind of took me by surprise. Like, am I interrupting some kind of group therapy where everyone stands around and texts each other? None of them seemed to have any children with them (which is my primary reason for visiting parks). They had just come to the park (For exercise? Fresh air? A change of scenery?) so they could stand in the great outdoors and stare intently at their phone.

Ok. That’s weird.

I edged around the group of phone zombies and we settled at a picnic table right next to a little man-made wading creek. The kids were torn by two opposing treats. Eating McDonalds or playing in the creek. The creek finally won out and they left half their meal behind as they ran for the water. Everything was good. Cute kids frolicking in the water. Then, about two minutes later, the six year old runs up to me. I NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM!

Let me just tell you, this park has public restrooms, but they are on the opposite side of the park. It is too far away to leave children alone playing while you accompany someone to the bathroom, and they are too far away to just let a child go there by themselves.

Uh..No.. We can’t go to the bathroom. It’s too far away. (I cringed as I said this, I’m pretty sure it breaks some international treaty laws to deny a child access to the bathroom). She looked at me, thought about it for a minute, and then said, Ok, I can hold it for a while.

Alrighty then.

Five minutes later, the four year old ran up to me. I NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM! Ok. Fine. I give up. I grabbed my purse, yelled for all my kids to come cause we were going to the bathroom. I pointed in the direction we were heading and the eight and six year old took off at a full run. The four year old was about 20 feet behind them and then came me and about twenty feet behind me was the two year old. He had decided that he wanted to climb over a rock, a stump, say hi to a butterfly, inspect the grass, and all the other things two year olds do when you are in a hurry. I was stuck in the middle, yelling for the girls to not get too far ahead, trying to encourage the two year old to hurry up.

Too late, the three kids ahead of me disappeared into an opening that lead to the bathrooms. WAIT! Don’t go so far ahead!…They were obviously out of ear shot. I urged the two year old on and started walking faster. The two year old and I finally got to the doorway where they had disappeared. There was a Men’s Restroom Door propped open and I heard child voices inside. Oh no. Did my girls accidentally go into the Men’s Room?? I stood at the doorway, not wanting to cross that sacred threshold unless I absolutely had to. I scanned the room. No men in sight. Good. ARE YOU GUYS IN HERE?? My little boy piped up from the one stall in the bathroom, the stall door swinging wide open. Yeah, I’m here! Ok. My son is in the Mens’ Restroom. Not the girls. All is well, though I would have preferred he had gone to the Women’s Room as he is still little. I stood at the doorway waiting for him to finish, then his little voice piped up. Where’s the toilet paper? …There isn’t any toilet paper! I yanked open my purse and started looking for tissues. Wait! I’ve got some, I’ll bring it to you. Just a minute! I finally found the tissue and headed into the bathroom. Again, too late. Sound of flushing. He had skipped the toilet paper part of the routine. I peaked into the stall. Yep. I now had a mess to clean up.

Fortunately Mom is always prepared (except when she isn’t, and then it’s bad). Out came the wipes from the bottomless handbag. Clean up the mess. Wash hands. Quickly exit the Mens’ Room and go hunt down my girls. I could hear them before I even entered the Women’s Room. They were chattering away to each other as they washed their hands. The entire building is made of concrete block. That, combined with a vaulted ceiling and a concrete floor, made the whole room an echo chamber. My two little boys followed me into the restroom and instantly noticed the noise level was about one hundred percent MORE in this room. They started shrieking just so they could hear the sound bounce off the walls a million times. I told them to be quiet and stand by the wall while I used the bathroom. More shrieking. BE QUIET! Lots of muffled sounds, then more shrieking. Almost like yodelling. Of course, I usually ignore this kind of behavior. Making noise at the park isn’t going to hurt anything. But, a glimpse under the stalls showed that some other poor woman was having to share this restroom with my noisy brood. QUIET!! The older girls decided to be helpful and started shushing their brothers. Then they discovered that the shushing sound also echoed off the walls, and if they shushed to a rhymic beat it also had a fun feel to it. The two year old decided to practice his hooting skills. I was rendered helpless, stuck in a toilet stall, unable to back up my hissed commands of BE QUIET with any action.

Fortunately, I saw the shoes of the unknown woman leave her stall, and shortly after, heard the outer door close. We were alone. I came out. Glared at my children who were still making their own version of music. I washed my hands and then shooed them back towards the playground and the creek. Several minutes later we were all settled in, me at the picnic table, the kids splashing in the water again. The eight year old walks up to me. Uh Mom, when we were in the bathroom, I didn’t have to go, so I didn’t go. But, Now I gotta go to the bathroom.

Right.

Taking kids to the park is so relaxing.