Back

Well, I guess I'm back from crazy land today.  I'm sorry.  I truly lost it yesterday.  I was indeed crying my guts out while I wrote that post.  I'm kind of embarrassed.  It was cathartic to let it all out, but I tucked the post away for a minute because its a little raw and tender, like a good fat blessed bleeding steak cut fresh off the cow. :)  Maybe I'll put it back up later, when I can laugh about it.  (and you know, it's funny?  I wouldn't change a thing about my life, even all the hard things I've been through.  And I am so glad my parents believed in me so much as a child--and still do--and never wanted me to feel stygmatized or that I couldn't do something I set my mind to.  They are angels and I owe most of what is good in my life to them.)

Thanks for your support everyone, it's been a tough month for me.

Last night I went to listen to a woman speak about becoming a quadriplegic.   Nothing like a little perspective.  Here is a poem she read:

THE WEAVER
________________________________
Written by B.M. Franklin (1882-1965)

My life is just a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaves so skillfully.

Sometimes He weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Not ‘til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And explain the reasons why-

The dark threads are as needful,
In The Weaver’s skillful hands
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

When life is its toughest, I have always turned to God for support and he has never let me down, even though he hasn't ever been the cause of my problem.  I have to admit I was a little angry at him over a couple of things, so I needed a reminder that I cannot do this alone and it is foolish to be angry with my best friend, cheerleader, and helper. :)

The thing that stood out to me  most in her talk was the strong impression that I got about helping others.  For me, it has always been the strongest antidote to sorrow.  Its nearly impossible to feel badly about my own troubles when I'm helping someone else with theirs.  And that is something that has been missing in my life lately, minus the daily little things I do for the kids.  Its funny, that at the same time this came to me, the woman speaking also wove the same thread (looking outside oneself) through her talk.  She spoke about a particularly bad day for her when she saw a little girl in a crowded room (I can't remember where this was?) and had the feeling she needed to talk to her.  She said she was annoyed that she felt she ought to talk to the little girl, because she was very busy and the little girl was surrounded by others who were playing games and doing fun things (if she wanted to play, she would have joined one of their games, she reasoned).  But the nagging feeling wouldn't leave.  So she wheeled over and asked if the little girl wanted to play several different games, which to each request the little girl sighed and said "no."  Then the woman, feeling a little exasperated, noticed that the little girl's hair was uncombed and she was wearing mis-matched clothes.  She asked the little girl if she would like her to comb her hair, to which the little girl responded in the affirmative.  As she was doing this little act of service, the little girl said in a tiny despondent voice that her mother used to comb her hair for her.  To which the woman queried about the girl's mother, who then responded: "she died yesterday."  I don't think there was a dry eye in the place when this story finished.

Isn't that one of the greatest things about having kids?  The daily opportunity we have to look outside ourselves.  Its funny that we moms joke about all the things that pregnancy and childbirth does to our hips, our waistline, our sagging...bodies.  We talk about lost sleep and the times when we didn't shower until 5pm and not being able to go to the bathroom alone, let alone get in some personal time.  Yet there is a little hidden secret in all that, and it is that we get so much more than we give.  The recipe for a fulfilling life is finding someone to bless outside yourself.  

Sorry for the font ADD.  You know what?  In spite of my crazy mood swings, this has been a great month as far as my goals!  I got in a couple of needed doctor appointments, and can use them as stepping stones for the future, and our morning routine has gone pretty well!  

Some Ups and Downs

I've still been suffering a little aftershock around here.  Yesterday I felt myself slipping feet first into a muddly hole of depression and anxiety as I tried to come to grips with everything.  I have been reading two books on ADD (lol), and feeling a mixture of relief and validation as well as the crashing-down realization of what having this has meant for me in my life.  All those little things I've felt ashamed about, that I've tried to hide or apologize for or just fix on my own, well, it's nice to know other people have been there too, and it's not my fault and my condition is both my greatest blessing and an enormously elephantine challenge I've been trying not to look at.  I've also been coming to grips with the fact that I think possibly all five of my children have it too in various forms and what that will mean for the future.  I'm so glad that I can help them, though it's kind of a joke to think that someone like me has to help them learn to get organized and develop routines and not procrastinate!  Ha.  It's a good thing there are other people out there who are good at this who we can turn to for help.  Yes, I'm crying my eyes out as I write this.  I think I've needed a good cry for years, I just didn't know it.  Just letting it all sink in and letting it hurt a minute before I screw my courage to the sticking place like I have done my whole life.  In reading Delivered from Distraction I found it is common for many in my shoes to suffer also from PTSD (I can't remember when I posted about this, but remember when I was diagnosed with PTSD a while back?  I thought it was just from all of our crazy moves and stress, but now I see the role this has played, too).  For me, some of the trauma has come from watching my oldest son start to go through what I went through, and it is not fun (so much harder to watch your kid go through anything than go through it yourself, right?).  He is the main reason I even sought help in the first place, because I did not want him to go through what I did.

Two nights ago when I said my prayers, I reached into my past and realized that the ADD thing is one of the things that has made my life so great and so full of adventure around every bend.  And who knows if I would have had my sweet five kids if I had felt I had to be on medication the whole time?  It's also helped me to be compassionate toward others and given me a depth of love and enjoyment of my little ones that maybe I wouldn't have felt otherwise (I'm learning that ADD'ers especially need people).  Even if the help I'm looking for doesn't really change things, I think I need to finally come to some self acceptance and awareness and embracing of all of the good and bad parts of myself together as a complete package deal.  Greatest curse and greatest blessing.  (Also a good opportunity to see why having things like a big house are just not working out for me!  I sensed this from afar, long ago, but somehow I'm always talking myself into things that are against my better judgement!)  And, of course, in the end, that while I can use the diagnosis to help understand myself better, I can never let it be an excuse to not do my best, but rather as a jumping off point.  And never to let it define me, but to let me define me.

Okay, now for a little comic relief as promised yesterday.  First I must wipe the snot from my face.

Remember our little tooth-brushing fire truck video?  Aw, how sweet.  Just a few days after the posting of that video, my baby revolted against all tooth brushing, fire truck or no.   Since then I've had to be even more creative-- think circus clown.  On the way to visit my  mom after a recent surgery, out of the blue I heard his voice in a deep forced growl say "I. NO. BRUSH. TEETH. ANY. MORE!"

Last night we had a little girl running around wide-eyed and screaming in her sleep.  My husband, in an attempt to calm her, started asking her everyone's names (everyone woke up and was surrounding my bed, where he had her).  She got all the names right until he got to her.  When he asked her what her name was, she wailed "Apple Jaaaaaack!"

My little four year old calls coughing "choking."  She wanted to go to a friend's house while she still had a cough.  She promised me that she would "not choke in Presley's mouth."

Lately I'll absent-mindedly ask my baby if he is my big boy.  He will say "no, I Emer." (Emerson)

Shoot, I know I had some more but I'm drawing a blank right now.  Imagine that, will ya?

No more drama tomorrow, I hope.  Thanks again for listening to my crazy tirades.

A Few Lost Memories

Thanks for indulging me yesterday.  I got a lot off my chest.  I have had some high and low moments since then, as I'm sure I will continue to do until I find a new way of coping with my new reality.

Here are a few discarded memories I found on my husband's phone.  Enjoy!

 Aw, who can resist a puppy and a baby?  Where has my baby gone?

 At my b-day dinner.

 On our Chuck-E-Cheese's Date with this little four year-old birthday girl and dad.

 (Remember our date night? Lol)

 More birthday date.

A rare hubby and me photo taken by the said 4 year-old birthday girl!

I have some funny sayings for tomorrow.  Until then, dear ones!

Wherein I Spill My Guts and Talk Brains and It's Not Even Halloween

I was sitting on my bedroom floor, knees propped and a little baby nursing into sleepy bliss under the honey diffused nighttime lamp, with a book propped on one knee.  The book was Simplicity Parenting by Kim John Payne.  I've talked about it before, and will probably talk about it again.  Mr. Kim John Payne, who sounds like the kind of guy I'd like to invite over to our family dinner, was talking about de-cluttering kids' lives (stuff and activities) in order to give them a better childhood.  I don't know how we got on the subject, but he mentioned that he feels ADD ought not to be considered an attention deficit disorder but rather a problem of attention priority.  A bell went off in my head and I felt something--  a mixture of relief and hope?

Because I have built elaborate walls around something I haven't been quite ready to face up to for a very long time.  Something that frightens me and makes me feel bad as well as misunderstood.  This book, and an adult cousin who had the courage to share his recent diagnosis off ADHD on Facebook, and some life circumstances, have pushed me to tentatively peer through a couple of the chinks in my wall.  I have always wondered if I could have ADD, but I didn't see that I could do anything about it, so I've gone on functioning in my dysfunctional survivalist way and kept those walls high against anyone who might suggest I have a problem.

One of the first questions the doctor asked in trying to decide whether I might have ADD is whether it has been a problem for me in my life.  Has it been a problem?!?  When I allowed my guard down for just a second, to look inside myself and see what I really thought, I realized that every part of me was screaming inside "yes! it has been a problem!"

My whole life I've been what others might term forgetful, spacey, dis-organized.  And everywhere I go, I can tell that I frustrate people.  But inside, I have always known that I'm not stupid, that I'm a good person, and that I'm doing my best.  Maybe that is what is so confusing, is that my best frustrates people, no matter how hard I feel I'm trying.

One of my earliest school memories involves an old teacher named Mrs. Bradshaw, a billowy middle-aged woman with a big tan-colored mole on her face and a stern colorless disposition.  I was always a little late finishing my work.  One day, I remember trying to focus on finishing something, kind of in my own little world I guess, when I reached a little finger up to scratch the outside of my nose.  She shouted at me to "quit picking my nose and get to work!"  And I don't know why, but I've always been really sensitive.  As a child, I remember things like this physically hurting, as if someone reached in and grabbed my guts and twisted them.  And a familiar feeling of confusion would follow-- I knew I wasn't trying to be bad, I just got distracted.  At one point she complained to my mother about how "slow" I was, and my mother went home distressed, thinking maybe it was true.

Then a few months later we received a special letter in the mail.  Because I'd scored in the 98 and 99th percentiles on my standardized tests, I was being invited to a special school for what they termed "gifted and talented" kids.   So up went the first wall.  I have often felt some weird sort of need to prove to people who think I'm ditsy that it's not that I'm not thinking when I appear spacey, I'm thinking a lot-- just not about the task at hand.  So, when I seem to zone out during a conversation about waxing versus laser hair removal, it's not that I'm not thinking, I'm probably thinking about particle physics (ha, not really) or about something I read about the Panama Canal that morning or about Graves Disease.  My first grade teacher was not the only person to humiliate me in front of a big group.  I had many teachers over the years who did (while a few were very patient), including a basketball coach who would yell at me fairly incessantly in front of half of the school at my basketball games.  I always felt pretty sheepish, as if I deserved it somehow for being so forgetful.  This has continued even into adulthood in a couple of realms, and the funny thing is, no matter how loudly someone else berated me, there was no one doing it louder than I was inside.

You know one of the funny side effects of being shamed inside and out?  I am mortally afraid of being a negative center of attention (though I secretly dream of positive attention, like being an Emily Dickenson-like poet) :), even just walking in late to church (and feeling all of those imaginary eyes) feels like it is about to kill me. Another thing?  I'm a pleaser.  I have always really wanted to please people, which can be good and bad.  In a recent parent personality inventory I took for something completely unrelated, I was told that my need to please others can detract me from some things that I really need to do as a parent (like discipline).  And the last thing?  One positive of my ADD?  I have always tried (though I can also be unintentionally insensitive, for which I beat myself to death later) to be sensitive to others.  In part because of the intense way I feel when I have been humiliated or embarrassed over the years, I have always tried really hard to look out for and be sensitive to people who are alone or marginalized in some way or un-included.  At the heart of it all, and it is hard to admit this out loud, I think my very best quality is probably compassion, even if it's bumblingly executed.  :)  Including with my kids.  And I guess on the flipside, I can resent someone for a long time who has hurt me deeply or frequently.

In my younger years, I would frequently forget things, procrastinate, appear spacey, talk too much or say things I regretted, fall apart under pressure, struggle to pay attention to anything boring, verbal, or long (ahh, school), suffer from poor impulse control in regards to food or spending, and that doozy-- get my feelings hurt over and over by someone who insensitively made fun of my forgetfulness (I learned from the therapist I visited recently that it is almost impossible for the ADD brain to react intellectually in such a case, that the response is emotional, even if it doesn't show).  The thing that hurt the most is that it often felt condescending.  I knew inside I was smart, capable, and worth something, but on the outside I built protections.  My best friends and family (now this includes my kids, who just know me the way I am and don't see anything unusual), who knew my heart, learned to laugh some of my behaviors off as just part of me, and still focused on my good points (though they too could get frustrated).  I was also very active physically, which probably helped mitigate and mask some of the symptoms as well (my reading suggests that exercise is almost as effective as medication at treating ADD).  And even though I was smart, I really struggled organizing my time, and that included test taking.  I really struggled as a high school student to finish standardized tests and AP tests (in spite of only half-finishing many AP tests, I did scrape by with 3's).  I always felt I needed more time.  (and that other demon, college, when I would frequently cram at the last minute, including that super healthy stay up all night on caffeine thing)

So why didn't I seek help?  I don't know.  Procrastination, in part.  Labels, for another.  I mean, when you spend your whole life trying to prove you are normal and that you have good points, too, and are constantly in trouble or feeling less worthy messages from all sorts of authority figures and peers, the last thing I felt I needed was a label.  I just thought I needed to try harder.  Also, it seemed that ADD was being diagnosed in everyone for a while there, which took away some credibility for me.  And medication, ah medication.  I didn't want to go there, I guess.  Misunderstanding of the true condition, denial, walls of self defense, an attitude that I just needed to try harder, and a desire not to take medication, it all contributed.  And I did learn to deal with some of my demons, even though some were still festering under the surface.  In some ways, I have done better with less structured environment as an adult.  I took independent study courses from BYU as a young married person and I got straight A's.  But I was able to do it at my own pace.  As a mother, I have often worried about leaving the baby on top of the car (one of my most morbid fears).  Thank heavens, I have been able to be, for me, a very responsible mother.  I don't keep the cleanest house, but... I do love being a mom and always have.  Certain day-to-day responsibilities are extremely hard for me mentally, but I've learned ways to cope, not all of them good.  When it comes time to do the dishes or something mundane, I feel a huge mental roadblock.  It's only through pure willpower and determination that I can power through something I know I have to do (and if it's not a must-do, it's almost impossible, hence procrastination).  I have learned to turn on the radio (NPR addiction) to help me better sense the passage of time and keep my mind occupied while I do something unpleasant, or unfortunately, I have learned to turn to food (sugar, mostly) to help give me the kick I need to get through it.  And I'm often madly cleaning my house at the last minute because I underestimate how much time it will take.  And it's not that I don't work hard, I do, I just don't prioritize very well, or organize my time well, so I may waste time working on something at the expense of something else.

That comes to something else.  ADD isn't all bad, just like I always felt in my gut that some of the things that got me into trouble were also an important part of who I am.  As I've studied, I've learned a few things.  ADD'ers are often creative, outside-the-box thinkers.  One benefit of ADD is the ability to hyper-focus-- something that drives me to learn or accomplish something that really interests me.  It was this very trait that often threw me off when I wondered if I had ADD.  I could sit for hours and draw, or read, but sitting through a boring lecture was extremely difficult.  In one English class I remember studying Puritanical law, and for whatever reason, it really fascinated me.  I wrote and re-wrote (at the last minute) a paper about situational ethics just because it interested me keenly.  My teacher (I never had a great relationship with teachers, I always somehow felt like I was bad somehow, as I sensed how I frustrated them) called me up to her desk one day after class.  She looked at me through suspicious half-closed gray eyes framed with soft wrinkles and an estimating expression.  She told me I had scored unusually highly on my essay-- 100 out of 100-- and asked me if my essay had been plagiarized.  In one way I was totally horrified, and in another, weird sort of way, very flattered.

(Here is a list of famous people who have either been diagnosed with ADHD or were predicted to have had it.  On the list, some of my favorite people, including Abraham Lincoln, who was reported to have been very disorganized (and also reported to have read while he plowed the fields).)

In retrospect the hyper-focus thing has helped and cursed me.  It really helps me to get some things done, but it is also hard to get things done without being able to hyper-focus, which is one reason the "interruption factor" is hard for me.  I look back now on the year after having each of my babies.  This was always a chaotic time, as it probably is for most new mothers.  I always nursed and changed diapers on demand, which meant a constant state of interruption.  (I also rarely exercised consistently in the first year, which probably exacerbated my symptoms without my knowing it)  Without a way to really have a chunk of time to get something done, I would get really de-motivated by the stopping and starting, and distracted by other tasks.  I have always tried to put my kids first, too, (hyper-focus on something interesting?) but everything else can go to pot, especially during stressful times.  And even spending time with my kids had to be a daily thing in which I initially forced myself to detach from a task and hurdle that wall, after which I was fine and enjoying myself.

I learned that ADD is a brain chemistry thing.  The frontal cortex, which is responsible for impulse control, motivation, and focus, is lacking in the chemicals it needs to function, including dopamine.  ADD'ers can often become addicts, in part because it gives them the dopamine and endorphin surge they are lacking (sugar, for me?).

Whew!  We are both tired of this crazy rambling post.  In short, I found someone who treats ADD without medication.  It is called Neurofeedback, which increases activity in the frontal cortex.  Patients who have been treated using this method have been shown to have permanent increases in cortical function, as opposed to medication, which only lasts as long as someone takes it.  I have been to one session, and I was amazed at how focused I was the rest of the day.

So, thanks for listening to me as I try to understand myself, get help so I can be less frustrating to my loved ones.  Thanks for being my sounding wall as I finally allow a lifetime of struggles to finally settle in my heart, as I see the difficulties it has caused me, the heartache, the frustrations, the frequent feelings of less-than and shame, and the need to somehow prove something.

I never knew why I needed this project so badly.  I just knew I needed it.  Some tasks I desperately needed to do seemed to require almost Herculean strength.  I figured that if I could find a way to say it out loud, to recognize the things I need to work on, and to have some accountability, it would help me.  This blog has been a lifesaver in a lot of ways, even though many days I know I don't really have time for it.  It has helped me through some challenges and helped me see some good sides to myself, as well as remembering all the good times we have around here.  It has provided a creative outlet-- something essential to my well-being in ways I'm just coming to understand and given me hope for the future. Thanks for following on this journey and for being so patient with this scattered mind.

A Week That Began With Creepy Bad Guys and Ends with a Bunch of Crap

For a recap of a little over a week or so, here goes.  We began two weekends ago at a book launch party for Brandon Mull's new Beyonders book.  My eleven year-old had been begging and begging and begging to go (and giving me minute by minute status updates from Brandon Mull's website for several days),  so I mustered the courage and took all five kids and stood in line outside a brown brick high school in a mild March evening with other excited (geeky?), book-toting fans and a demon or two.  Because I'm such a stellar planner, I invited my husband a little too late and then my phone battery died, so I never knew whether he was going to be meeting us or not (not).

At first it was a very exciting party, which involved other authors in addition to Brandon Mull, some fun background from Mull's wife (one of my favorite parts of the night-- when she showed all these slides of her husband "zoned out" at different activities, lol, I can relate), and some fun from a comedy group.  Perfect timing too, because we have just started listening to Fablehaven together and my seven year-old has been riveted.  But after trying to keep the littlest ones suppressed and oppressed :)  on no dinner for over an hour, they had enough and wanted to run around.  So we had chips for dinner from the vending machine, licked up dusty orange handfulls of end-of-bag goodness, and waited.  And waited.  And ran around.  My littlest was in explore mode, and didn't care one bit about being out of my sight.  Keeping track of him was hard.  I somehow made my four year old mad at me at one point, and she ran the other direction. 

After the show, we waited for an additional tortuous two hours before I finally begged for them to make an exception and let us just meet our authors and go home! (we would have still had over an hour to two to wait and it was already 10pm)  (right after I chased down baby and lost my four year old simultaneously, then heard someone announcing that they had a cute little girl in cowboy boots up front and would her mother please come claim her!  aaaaaaagh!)  My older kids just could.not.leave.without.meeting Christopher Paolini and Brandon Mull.  We ended up inhaling a little In-N-Out on the way home while the older kids breathlessly exclaimed between fries that it was the best. night. ever.  (are we on the same planet?)  Of course it was worth it.  I hope this extra long run-on paragraph was worth it, too.

For a quick re-cap of the rest of the week, lets just say this:  pink-eye, sinus infection= dr. visit number one (he said she was pretty much the poster child for bacterial pink eye).  Next night, company from out of town.  My house a wreck.  Next day= dr. visit number two, for a double ear infection, sinus infection, another, single pink eye, and some antibiotics for the momma too, who, along with the littlest ones, has had a cough and sinus yucky stuff for three weeks.  Saturday= we decided to top off the week with a bunch of crap.  Yes, my husband noticed one of the walls in the basement was damp, so he and the kids dug a hole (the big kids have been spending all their free time digging a hole in the garden) and found that our sewer line was cracked right in half.  Yum.  So we spent the day not being able to use the facilities or the sinks.  Creative.  Uh-huh.  Its not like we have tools for outdoor usage around here.  Good news, I finally cleaned the house (hey, I couldn't do the dishes!  Blessing in disguise), and we went out for dinner.  Then had our previous wonderful company come and stay again, as if nothing had happened.  So glad I have a handy hubby, thankful for sewers, and even for adventurous weeks that I get to spend with my favorite people, even if we are miserable together.

Whew!  It wasn't an all-bad week, but I'm glad its over!  How about you? 

Morning routine update:  two days of practice turned into a whole week.  Ha.  But the kids were on time to the bus today, with very, very little nagging or reminding!  Getting better!

Mini Vacation

Dearest friends, I am taking a few days off.  I have some posts I'm working on, I'll be back next week!  Believe me, I will miss you!

Until then, enjoy a few links:

Design Mom has some cute egg painted cartons and other fun Easter-related stuff here.

This woman, who survived a plane crash and burns over 80% of her body, is such a great example of a dedicated mother (one way she helped motivate herself to survive through a very long and painful recovery) and someone who is courageous and positive in the face of extreme hardship.

And these two, just for fun.  Here is a lifestyle blogger who went to Harvard with my sister.  She has a cute personality and helps those of us fashion-challenged people know what goes together and that kind of stuff.  And this one, a woman named Andrea, whom I found on Instagram.  I have really come to love for her open, confident, friendly personality, her love of her family, and her fun sense of style. And she always responds to my comments in a friendly way-- she is the real deal.  The kind of person who sounds fun to go get some ice cream with or something.

I have some super talented friends whose blogs and ideas I'd like to share, I'm just thinking maybe I should check with them first (?).

I will miss you!  Have a super happy week.

A Few Things

We tried our morning routine for the first time this morning, and I wish I could say it went off without a hitch, but it didn't!  Ha.  The kids didn't wake themselves up, we barely ate breakfast as the bus was pulling away, which meant I had to take the kids to school (0 minutes to spare, but not late), and I forgot to pack lunches!  Ouch.  It turned out okay, because I had a few errands to run, so I got out of my PJ's and got my errands done and picked something up for the kids for lunch.  I love eating with them at school and watching them show off the littlest ones to their friends and watching them interact with their friends and even -gasp!- girls (or boys, as the case may be).  It was a gorgeous day and I watched as my two oldest took turns taking the baby down a shiny metal slide over and over and he ate it up and the sun was warm on my back and I felt so good watching them run around after such a long winter.

Even though the morning routine wasn't hitch-less, it was still good!  My kids had their beds made before school for like the first time ever (not really, but close) and I didn't have to nag (okay, I did a tiny bit-- but mostly to remind them about the new routine!).

I can't remember if I shared this, but I learned the key to a routine is to keep whatever motivates them most for last.  For us, that is reading (yes, I confiscated two books this morning, and I didn't feel bad, because I see it as helping them and not being the bad guy), breakfast, chess or news on the computer (for my oldest, the news has been especially fascinating lately), or a quick game with me.

So, I'd count it as a success.  Just got to keep it going. :)

Busyness

Here is an interesting article about Busyness.

Do we sometimes wear busyness as a badge of motherhood?  I know I have.

Some Funnies

I feel like it's been a little hard-hitting around here lately.  We need some fun stuff to liven up this boring blog.

Like the above photo-- I was trying to capture a cute little cars-playing moment when I was "caught" and cheesed for.

And this little girl wearing pants for the first time in millenia.  Shh. I won't tell if you won't.

I have been saving my kids sayings on a notepad for a month to share them and now I can't find it!  Darn.  So here are just a couple I can remember (all those old ladies warn you that you will forget funny things your kids say if you don't write them down.  In my mind I was picturing, you know, a lot of years elapsing between remembering and forgetting.  What they didn't tell me is that I wouldn't remember the little sayings five minutes later.)

My four year old said to my seven year old:  "Maia, I'm going to promise you something that's really nice of me."

When Ava was crying yesterday, E. (baby) said: "Ava is crying on her face."

Ava has come down with the dreaded Pink Eye.  She kept asking me yesterday "is my eye still pink?"

If I find the others little sayings in my cluttery kitchen, you will be the first to know. :)

I hope you have a wonderful day!

If you are in need of additional laughs, check out this and this (making fun of politicians, and not completely "G" rated) and this (for all you Harry Potter fans out there).  

Miracle of miracles, the baby has been sleeping in his own room, with a little help.  I didn't think I could do it, and wahoo!  Thar she blows.

In Honor of International Women's Day: Identifying Emotional Abuse

Okay, I'm like a week late over here.  International Women's Day was last Friday.  Better late than never, right?

I feel like this is an important topic because many women in emotionally abusive relationships don't know they are in one, for various reasons.  While it is easy to identify physical abuse, because it leaves physical scars, emotional abuse can be much harder to identify because it is harder to put a finger on.  In many instances, the abuser has successfully "gaslighted" his victim (though he is often unaware of his own actions)-- convinced her that she is to blame, or denied his actions in such a way as to cast doubt into the woman's mind that she didn't really see/hear/experience what she thought she did.  She even begins to doubt her own worth under the constant barrage of criticism.

Abuse victims aren't always who we think they are.  I know I often picture a certain "type" of couple in an abusive relationship, including demographic information.  But emotional abuse can affect people within all levels of society, regardless of how well-off they seem or how polished or successful they appear on the outside.

I think it's also important, as a parent, to be aware of what constitutes emotional abuse so we can stay as far away from the line as possible in our relationships with our kids.  We all have our bad days, for sure.  And beating ourselves up over it doesn't do any good.  If bad days greatly outnumber good days or one feels out of control, it's probably time to look for professional help.

So here we are.

Did you know that one of the first criteria in an emotionally abusive relationship is the need for one person to control the other (ha, just did a post on this).  Control can take all sorts of forms, whether it be emotional blackmail (if you loved me, you'd do this for me), using guilt/blame/shame/pain to achieve a desired outcome, eliminating all options but one for what they deem "the most logical" reasons (even if the logical reasons don't make sense to you), subtle or overt domination, or financial control.   It doesn't necessarily entail one spouse blankly telling the other what he/she may or may not do.

Another closely related characteristic is a posture of constant criticism.  If a partner or parent is constantly finding fault, often over minor or insignificant things, that is emotionally abusive (this behavior lends to control, because it keeps the victim feeling off-guard, defensive, and defective, and therefore in a position to do what the abusive person wants).

I like the acronym FOG, found on this site.  It stands for fear, obligation, and guilt.  Many abusers use these three things to control or humiliate their partners or children.  If you feel you are "walking on eggshells" most of the time around a loved one, often feel fear or intimidation, even if the things that make you feel that way are hard to pinpoint (a piercing look, a disgusted sigh, an aggressive act toward a possession or a child, or even the silent treatment or refusing to acknowledge your presence or requests).  While some experience intimidation through aggressive and angry behaviors, others are intimidated through more subtle means.  One that makes me shiver is the man who cleans his gun during an argument with his wife (this is an extreme example).

Here are just a few more examples of emotional abuse: treating spouse or peer as a child, trivializing someone's thoughts or feelings, denying wrongdoing when evidence is clear, flying off the handle at every little thing, blaming spouse for abuser's actions (if you didn't act that way, I wouldn't have to hit you), using put-downs, jokes, or sarcasm to belittle you, then tell you you are the one who is "too sensitive," frequently violate your boundaries, show a lack of empathy, show disrespect, control money, isolate one from friends and family, act jealous, act as if you are an extension of him/herself, neglect of spouse or children (including emotional neglect), are hyper-sensitive to criticism, saying they don't have control over their actions (yet physical abusers hit their wives only in private or where bruises won't be seen?), demanding, demeaning, or overly needy.  Even if behaviors are difficult to pinpoint, a good indicator that you are in an emotionally abusive relationship is how frequently you feel badly around a spouse or partner.

It's important to know that many of these behaviors will probably alternate with good times or promises of change, flattery, or periodic apologies.  During these times a victim may convince him/herself that things really will get better, or aren't as bad as they thought, or may even blame him/herself for the previous bad behavior by the abuser.  Abusers can be attractive, successful, persuasive, and may have some great redeeming qualities.  But  that doesn't make the abusive behavior okay.  It is important in these instances to look at overall patterns over the long term.

It's also important to realize that it isn't your fault.  Abusers are adept at "projection" by which they push their guilt and shame on you (deep down inside, though they may not even recognize it, they feel a deep sense of shame and guilt, usually from a traumatizing event in childhood).  It is important, if you suspect you are in one of these relationships, to carefully assess messages you've internalized over the years, and decide whether the guilt and shame you feel is indeed yours, or whether you've picked up your partner's guilt and negative emotions through transference (I've read many positive reviews about this book, which helps the abused sort out the behaviors from one another).  Its also important to start to remember who you are, learn to set healthy boundaries (again, same book), get professional help (you can do it! you deserve it!), protect children from an abusive parent, see that while you may love your partner and see the good in him, you deserve to be treated with respect.

If you recognize these symptoms in yourself or a loved one, professionals recommend confiding in a close friend or family member as well as seeking professional help.  You can even seek for a therapist who will do a free evaluation.  Many churches offer help in locating a good professional, and may even help pay if finances are a problem.  Some employers offer what is called an EAP- Employee Assistance Program- a free, confidential session with a professional who can help you find long-term help and even pay for a few sessions. Even if you have had dreams of being together on decisions, or hate to defy an intimidating partner, it is important to pay attention to your own needs and the needs of children in your care. One important thing is-- don't see yourself as hopelessly trapped!  That is how an abuser wants you to feel.  There are always options, and finding peace with some of your previously unconsidered options is an important step forward.  That is not to say that things will never get better or that divorce is inevitable!  It's not.  But your happiness lies in your power, and not anyone else's.  You can do it!

For me, I like to periodically pay attention to the clinical definition of abuse so that I can stay as far away as possible while raising my own kids.  If you are interested in reading more, here are some specifics written by the professionals, defining emotional abuse.  And here is a website that gives more details about child emotional abuse (there are a few more things specific to child emotional abuse).

Helping Baby Sleep Through the Night and How It's Goin'

One of my initial goals for this month was to have my baby (not really a baby anymore, more of a toddler, I'm just in denial) sleep through the night in his own bed.  Is it happening? Nah.

For one thing, we were both super sick the week I was supposed to be doing that.  And for another, this ole' heart just ain't ready for it.  I'm ready to get some sleep, but I'm just not quite ready to let go!  What is my problem?!?

I did take a sleep training course recently.  It was good.  I thought I'd share what I learned, even if I'm not practicing it quite yet.  The course was taken from Solve Your Child's Sleep Problems by Richard Ferber.  I read this book back in the dinosaur ages.  It helped me help my other kids sleep through the night.  I realized that while I'm not quite ready to help my little one do this, maybe there are some new parents out there who are looking for sleep solutions for their little ones like I was when I was a new mom.

For me, the ideal time to start trying to sleep train my babies was around five to six months.  They learn pretty quickly at this age, and they still can't pull up (ah, those poor babies who can pull up can't quite seem to figure out how to let themselves back down, though they do when they are tired enough.  they are definitely sleep train-able, but it's a tiny bit harder), and, by this age, they should be getting enough calories during the day to last them through the night.

Below I've outlined the technique which has been very effective in getting my other kids to sleep through the night.  The question to ask yourself is:  am I a worse mother during the day because I don't sleep at night?  Is my child's learning or growth or mood affected because he or she is not sleeping well?  Does lack of sleep pose any safety risks for me or my child?  When one of my babies was a newborn, she was getting up four times a night and was awake at least an hour for one of those.  She would cry if I wasn't walking around with her.  She was a great baby during the day, but I was so zombie-like that I was not effective during the day, and it all really hit home one day when I nearly got in an auto accident because I was so sleepy.  In short, it was a problem.  I realized I would be doing us both a big favor by helping her learn to sleep through the night.

When my oldest child was a baby, I tried letting him cry it out cold turkey.  It was super hard.  It didn't work very well, and I wasn't very consistent (part of the problem).  I was fraught with anxiety over by baby's crying (as was my husband, in a different way).

Here is what I learned with subsequent babies.

1.  Make sure you and your partner are on the same page before doing any sleep training.  If you are not, it's probably not going to work.  (And if you are not, I have had to give my husband an ultimatum before-- I know you don't like the crying, but I'm exhausted, so if you don't think you will be able to sleep on "x" nights while I let baby cry, then there is a couch downstairs.  Lol.)

2.  Make sure you are mentally and physically prepared before doing sleep training.  And make sure baby isn't sick or going through any major upheavals like a move or cutting his first molars.

3.  Make sure baby's bed is safe-- follow current guidelines on crib bumpers, stuffed toys, pillows, proper mattress placement, crib safety, etc. This will give you peace of mind during those heart wrenching crying spells (you can do it! and baby can do it! don't let this scare you!  you'll both be fine), since you will be feeling plenty of other anxiety for a few nights.

4.  Plan on sleep training taking anywhere from 2 nights to a week.  (some of my babies had it down in 2 nights!  so hope for the best, plan for... a little more)

5.  Make sure your child is well-fed and changed before hand, and his or her room at a comfortable temp. I try to think ahead at this point.  Since the child will most likely end up out of her covers, are her PJ's warm enough to allow her to sleep without a blanket (and it will undermine the program if you have to sneak in and cover her up)?

6.  Put your child to bed at the time he normally falls asleep, after a consistent bedtime routine (with plenty of time to unwind, say 30 min).

7.  All the things I've ever read say to put the child to bed sleepy but awake.  No sleep crutches like rocking to sleep, lying with them till they are asleep, or nursing them to sleep.  This is because the circumstances that help them fall asleep, they turn to in the middle of the night to help them fall asleep again (since we all wake multiple times at night, we just don't often remember).  Therefore, if they are always rocked to sleep then they will wake and want to be rocked.  Ferber likens this to an adult waking up and finding his pillow missing.  He would find it difficult to fall asleep until the pillow was located.  That said, I have still nursed my young babies to sleep.  I can't bring myself to wake them up.  And its no biggie.  I have still sleep-trained them just fine.

8.  When the baby starts to cry, whether that is at the initial point of putting her down or later in the night, wait five minutes, then go in and reassure her.  I like to lay the child back down, put the blanket back on, smooth her hair, pat her, and tell her that she is going to be okay, with loving and reassuring eye contact (even if you are all torn up inside!).  After 30 seconds or so, I leave the room.

9.  Gradually increase the time between visits from a parent (one parent per night, however you want to do it, just keep the same person for a whole night at a time).  So after an initial visit of 5 minutes, you could go back in ten, then fifteen, then twenty.  If the child sounds like he is almost asleep, I wait and see (and don't go in), even if it is about time for me to go in again.  If I go in when the child is starting to self-settle, it just re-starts the crying all over again.  Usually this is a sign the child is about to go to sleep.  

10.  Repeat this for every night waking for as many nights as it takes to sleep train (a video I watched suggested gradually decreasing the wait times for subsequent nights).  If the child still isn't sleeping after a week, it might be worth a trip to the doctor to rule out other possibilities.

11.  White noise.  Sometimes its helpful to have a fan or close your bedroom door (I don't like to completely close the child's door, as I don't want to scare him/her), or something else to block the sound of the crying.  The sound just makes you anxious, and the more edgy you feel the more likely you are to break the rules, which doesn't help the child.  It is very important to be consistent.  (I also found it easier for me if my husband could sleep.  If I was feeling anxious that he was not sleeping, I was more tempted not to follow through)

12.  If the child throws up, or needs a diaper change, then do it quietly without fanfare in the dark, and put the child back to bed.

13.  If the child shares a room with a sibling, no worries.  The sibling will probably sleep through it all (mine did!  Its crazy!).  If they don't, consider letting the sibling sleep in a different room for a few nights.

14.  After your child is sleep trained, if he suddenly starts waking again, do the same thing.  Check them at alternating intervals (its nice to make sure nothing is wrong, like an illness).  The hard work is over at this point, and the crying should only last a very short time.

I found this method to work like a charm for all of my kids when they were under the age of 18 months.  One of my babies only cried for 15 minutes for two nights, then slept through the night after that (this was my four times a night child!).  One of the keys is not to get all stressed out and anxious and either break the rules or give up early.  I like this method so much better than cold turkey because it allowed me to check on my child, who I worry about (what if she is poopy?  or hurt?  or...something?), and it helps reassure both of us that she will be okay.  It's like I'm saying, I'm still here, and you are okay and are going to be okay.  And the child will be just fine!  In a week she will seem to have forgotten all about it, and you will be happy, functional, and so will she.

For older kids that can climb out of a crib or a bed, McCready (of Positive Parenting Solutions) suggests installing a gate in the door way and treating it the same as if it were a crib.  (and if the child can climb over one gate, she suggests installing two gates, one on top of the other)

***

FYI, we had our initial meeting about our new morning routine, and it went really well.  It really helped to have both of us talk with the kids about it.  Even though we still have to do our practice rounds, the kids have already been getting up earlier and getting chores done.  I"ll let you know how it goes!

A Little Disruption

I was sitting on the sofa yesterday, nursing the little one, when I happened to glance toward the other end, where there rested a well-used baseball, just sitting there peacefully.

But I wasn't necessarily feeling peaceful.  I was feeling a little twinge-y and a little anxious.  I was facing two looming disruptions to my little happy life.  One, that my baby is getting too big to nurse any more.  And another, that my oldest son has his junior high orientation at the school today.  Two big reminders that whether I like it or not, these guys are growing up.  Am I ready for the new territory we'll be treading?  For all the wonderful, exciting, scary things a teenager faces through some turbulent growing years? (and is he?  I hope so!)  And am I ready to let go of babies?  As special as it has been, that my time for babies is coming to a close?  (I'm not completely ready to say this yet, just ask my husband, who faces tears every time he asks me if we can get rid of the baby clothes, swings, bassinets)

Yet, in some small ways, I am ready.  I've donated my body to science for over 12 years now.  I am ready to own it again, albeit in new form.  I'm ready to have a little more energy.  I'm ready to play with my kids as they grow.  And I'm not, too.  Its a good thing I still have a little time left.  I'm ready to do some projects with fewer interruptions and to be able to do a few things I've been waiting for for years.  And SO glad all my opportunities aren't gone just yet, to be a mom to these great kids, and that I need these little twinge-y reminders once in a while, as much as they are hard.

So I read this article by a very successful Wall Street investment banker about disrupting yourself in order to progress as a person and within a career.  It made me think.  These little times in life, when a disruption threatens to turn my world upside down, are an opportunity.  An opportunity to look back and remember the good and the bad, to weave the threads into my soul, and appreciate how they have made me who I am.  The regrets and the triumphs all lumped together.  And if we don't have disruptions, then what is there to stop the spinning of the wheel, to see what has been made, to reassess, to go forward in new directions with new choices that can make the next period of time productive and sweet?

So even though I feel a little sad about some of the times that are gone, and the disruptions make me feel all funny inside,  insecure and unsteady for a minute, I'm thankful for them.  They also give me clarity, an opportunity to choose my life all over again, to make changes, and to make the best of this life and opportunities I've been given.  To make sure I realize that worn baseballs won't be in the air forever, so I need to enjoy watching their flight while I can.

Control Battles

I hinted at some two-year old type control battles that are starting to cause little hurricanes of dismay around here.  As I try really hard not to laugh.  Or cry.

A little light dawned on me today as I recognized one of my problems during my discipline month as well as the month following.  Being a good disciplinarian does not mean one will have their kids perfectly under control at all times, it means having oneself in control (most of the time).   After all, we cannot control our children, or any other human being for that matter, we can only control ourselves, and to an extent, the environment.  So it would be unfair to expect everything to run smoothly just because I have set some reasonable rules, reasonable consequences, and even enforced them with reasonable consistency.  And even if I could control my children, would I really want to?  While my answer may feel a bit tentatively to outright blatantly "yes" on some days, it is really no.  I don't.  The ultimate goal of discipline is to help them learn self discipline.  Are they going to learn to think for themselves if they are constantly told what to do?  Will they learn self discipline if they are never allowed to make mistakes and learn from them?

So, it stands to reason, that no matter how good we are at consistently and patiently reinforcing reasonable rules, that there will still be moments of chaos, imperfect times when we will have to clean up messes or interrupt dinner or leave something undone (in fact, I'm realizing that to be effective I have to plan on such things).  My kids will make mistakes, as will I.  But if they feel free to make them, and they still feel loved, then they are free to learn from the consequences in ways that will help them mature into responsible adults.  This also includes feeling free to voice concerns and express emotions that are sometimes unpleasant to parents, but are equally important in helping a child feel validated and "safe" and unconditionally loved.

Here is another little revelation about control: controlling parents invite more control battles from their kids.  Because one of kids' most urgent innate desires is to have some sense of autonomy and control over his/her life, if they aren't given enough legitimate control, they will find other ways to show us we can't control them.  Think bedtime dawdling, refusing to eat dinner, etc.  Thus some of the very misbehavior we are trying to prevent by attempting to control our children is undermining that very effort.  Only by providing them enough autonomy are we showing them "I trust you," and "you can handle this," "you are important," "you can make good decisions," reducing their need to show us they are in control through passive aggressive behaviors.  When an adult in a child's life gets all whipped into a fury, the child, who may not be getting enough of his needs met for control (and positive attention, the other most basic need), gets an enormous dose of control.  After all, they subconsciously think, if I can get a big powerful grown up to throw an adult tantrum, then I am in control, right?

So, one of the keys, as explained in Parenting With Love and Logic (Fay), is to give a child as many choices as possible that are both acceptable to the parents.  Like "would you like to wear your green shirt or your red one?" or "would you like to set the table now or in 5 minutes?"

And, ultimately, our kids learn much more from what we do than what we say.  So if we are examples of control and discipline, including setting boundaries for what we will not allow to impinge upon our boundaries (whining for example-- we can't control their whining, but we can limit its effect on us by asking the whiner to go to his/her room away from us), that sets the ultimate example in helping our children learn self control.

Some of these principles are so obvious its crazy, right?  And yet, so easy to forget.  I was reminded of these principles from some of the webinars I've done through Positive Parenting Solutions.

How do you step back and allow your child appropriate control?  Do you ever have moments when you realize that something you were stubborn about really doesn't matter in the scheme of things?  Any good experiences in letting go of control?

Woman's Search for Happiness

This morning, I had one of those moments.  You know, those moments.  I had sandwiched the night between the couch downstairs and the floor next to my little boy's mattress.  (so I wouldn't wake anyone up with my hacking cough)  There was a graveyard of fluffy used tissues in a half-circle next to the sofa.  Toys were scattered pell-mell across the living room floor, dishes filled my sink, piles of papers threatened to spill over their stacks all across the kitchen counter.  In my flu-induced stupor, I was trying to get bleary kids ready for a late day.  There was one on the computer playing chess in his pajamas, one half-ready in her summer shorts in the kitchen, another dragging, dragging, downstairs in her bright pink nightgown, wondering why. I. have. to. go. to school.  every. day.  Another little girl wonders where I was last night and why I didn't return to lay with her a second time.  Then I remembered I had a meeting this morning, ug.  With my nose still plugged with all manner of.  And some errands to run and this house.  Oh, this house.  It was clean a week ago, and today it looks like the 7th circle of &*%#.  There are two current construction zones and an emergency management zone, plus, I've been sick all week!  So I'm kind of behind.  Oh yeah, and we're going on a date with some friends tonight.  What am I going to wear?  Nothing fits, seeing as I weigh as much as I did when I had my babies.  Ouch. (my darned knees are injured so I can't exercise, which is killing me!)  And what if they want to come over afterward?  Great spotless trendy cute perfect people.  They are going to think we are the keepers of the dump.  I'm imagining my embarrassment.  Oh yeah, and some paperwork due at school today, the very last day.  Is it buried under one of the many Pisa-like piles?

I've been a little distracted lately.  And a little down about some general life challenges.  If you ever think my life is breezy, well, I definitely struggle with some things.  Some things that weigh really heavy some days. 

So...on this particular day, when all of the tornado was coming to pass, as I tried to whip through the chaos and ready some little people, I had a little moment of ....well, you'll see.

We were standing in the corner of the kitchen.  My four year-old was looking up at me and demonstrating with her hands in a very emphatic way about how she wanted me to just "scoop" her eggs into her mouth.  My son was waxing on about parallelograms.  They were both oblivious that the other was having a completely independent conversation with me at the same time. 

Then my nine year-old started to speculate about a person named "Ima," and what if her last name was "Buttchip."  And what if Ima Buttchip went to Hogwarts and Professor Flitwick, in calling her name, said "I'm a Buttchip."  And then she proceeded to go through an extensive individual list of the staff at Hogwarts, imagining each calling themselves (basically), a Buttchip.  So I got to hear this over and over and over.  I'm a Buttchip.  I'm a Buttchip.  I'm a Buttchip. 

And pretty soon, we're late for school, again.....and I'm rounding up a couple of things and my seven year old has a meltdown.  She is wailing and sucking in air, and looking around with truly distressed blue-green eyes with tears dripping out of them and a sideways distressed mouth that compresses her lips and reveals her crooked growing-in teeth and saying that her sister called her a... Buttchip.  To which a distant voice calls from a distant room that she was not calling her a Buttchip, "she just didn't understand I was making a joke"...la la la.  Kind of funnier because we don't even really say the word "butt" at our house.

And I had this weird crazy happy feeling.  Crazy because I felt feeling fill my whole chest cavity as it dawned on me that....I love this.  I love these little people that make me crazy happy.  I love that in all of this chaos that feels so out of control some days, that I get to listen to after school stories, comfort end-of-the-world knee scrapes, tie shoes, help with school projects, tuck-in-bedders and shoo out-of-bedders; even  that I get to muffle a laugh-cry as I try to mold my face into pious sympathy while my daughter wails about being called a "buttchip."

And even in middle of the wailing, I looked at that little girl that I was so nervous I might lose last month and saw a whole package of a person I love so much.  Five little unique people, really, that I love individually, who make life so rich and fun and interesting and purposeful.

And I remembered a quote I read from Victor Frankl, the gist of which was "don't search for happiness, search for meaning."  And that is one of the reasons my heart was so full, because I saw how much meaning there was in all of it.  A lot of little people and a lot of meaning.  And when life seems a bit hard to take some days, they are the reason I hold on.  My reason to be better, to hang on, to give them a happy life.  And that is what makes me happy, not the chasing of happiness, but that moment when it finds me and settles on me in the most unexpected places.

When I searched for the exact quote, I couldn't find it.  But I did find out that Victor Frankl was a survivor of the Nazi death camps. 

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”
― Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
― Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

“Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose.”
― Viktor E. Frankl

“Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.”
― Viktor E. Frankl

(Quotes taken from Goodreads)

Don't search for happiness, search for meaning.  For me, meaning comes from trying each day to make someone's life better.  That makes me happy.  Even if it involves Buttchips.

In the midst of all the lateness and craziness this morning, I couldn't resist snapping a few pictures of this sweet little boy who stole in a snuggle with me this morning and fell asleep.  Isn't baby sleeping just magical?  So glad I get a first-row seat with this sweet view.

What gives your life meaning?  Do you have a hero that has inspired you? 

Life Lately and a Couple A' Links

Of course this little girl was delighted for an opportunity to represent her favorite book character at school one day.  She even made the paper crest patch for her robe.  She makes a cute Hermione, huh?




We went for a walk on a clear but cold day last week.  The kids were in heaven (even though I made that cute girl go back in and change into warmer pants).  It was so nice to be outside after living through a very long, gray, wet, bitterly cold winter.  Ever since that day the baby tells me "go a walk!  go a walk!"  These opposing creative outfits really express these girls' personalities.



If you would like to watch a replay of the webinar "Get Kids to Listen Without Nagging, Reminding, or Yelling" see here.  I have also spent some time watching some of her other training sessions (it did cost some money, I will have to give you a free rundown after I'm finished :).  Its been very helpful for me personally, as I was in need of some tips in some trouble areas, including my upcoming resolution to work on the morning routine!).  I'm also reading a couple of books that will make for some interesting future post material. Wahoo!

And, for those of you who need a break sometimes from thinking only about parenting and kids, here are a couple of fun links.  This one, on printed denim.  What do you think?  And this super cute swimsuit, out of my price range and would never work on my body, but it's fun to dream (maybe a good motivator to start exercising again?).  And for my cerebral friends?  Tell me about a good book you read lately?  I'm going to read this.  What about favorite movies?  I saw two excellent films over the last month.  The Artist (loved it), and the controversial Les Mis (made me cry).  What about you?

Happy Thursday everyone!

Splish Splash I Was Takin' a....

It has been hard to get this little boy in the bath lately.  Yesterday I decided to scrap what  I had planned with the kids and instead play with him while he was in the tub.  He was so reluctant that I had to coax him in with a dive-bombing alien; even then he stood for probably ten minutes before he could bring himself to sit down.  After he got playing, I think he remembered just how fun baths can be!  He kept calling the alien a "ghostie," which joined his little car Guido as a comfort object for the day. (and we discovered Ghostie glows at bedtime)  A few minutes of playing soon melted into nearly an hour of not-wanting-to-get-out.  I was happy to sit for that long since I still wasn't feeling too well myself.

(another little funny side note:  any time a tub toy would drip profusely, he would say it was "pooping")

That beautiful black stuff in the tub is plumbers glue (the previous homeowners sold the tub the plumber replaced).  So the tub is clean, let's just pretend we are trending tub tattoos and couch tattoos around here (I can't remember if I shared the couch tattoo story on this blog or just on Instagram?  We were the recipient of a beautiful bright blue snowflake stamp on our new sofa.  I could not get it out, even though our couches have been stain treated.  For a short time I tried really hard to convince myself that I did indeed want the new couch tattoo I had been gifted, but I was really relieved to receive Amodex from the couch company, which completely removed the entire stain!  Whew!  I think I'd rather have a couch tattoo as a voluntary measure.)

Some day I am sure going to miss those little wrinkled fingers and toys lined up on the edge of the tub and carrying a snuggly little one in a warm fuzzy towel and pink baby lotion and the smell of my baby's head after a bath.

As you can probably tell, even though we haven't reached the actual age of two here, we have reached the age at which certain two year old behaviors are notorious.  That's not to say that I don't just want to eat up this cute little thing every day, of course.  I love this link my sister sent me, called 46 Reasons My Three Year-Old Might Be Freaking Out.  So super funny!  Sometimes its fun to take a step back and realize how funny some of this stuff can be.  And we'll miss that little kid whose "lip tastes salty" or whose "shirt has a tag on it." (and probably wish our problems were that simple again, right?)  Is there something seemingly insignificant that has caused a melt-down at your house?

Under the Weather and an Unexpected Attachment Object

We are still under the weather around here.  I have some fun photos for tomorrow.  For today, let this suffice:

This cute little car has not been put down for probably three weeks (unless it is involuntarily reliquished).  He always carries it in one chubby fist or the other and he even sleeps with it.  He vrooms it across my shoulder while he nurses. He has been resisting a bath for a while now and today I realized that it's probably because I don't let him take it in the bath (today I relented).  It is sort of interesting to watch him try to manage manual dexterity-requiring tasks with his little forklift nestled in his hand.  After a nap, during which time it invariably falls out of his little hand, he is fussy or inconsolable until it is found.  Because I was at first confused as to which actual character it was in the movie Cars, he calls it interchangeably "Wee-doe" (Guido) or "Wee-Gee" (Luigi).  So super cute.

Back tomorrow. :)

A Date With a Crazy Driver

Sorry for so much blah blah blah the last few days.  Time for some silent photos soon.

So....my kids are keeping me honest now that they have discovered I scheduled dates with them on my calendar (back when I worked on organization...I have one child scheduled for a date each month, so they'll get one every 4 months-ish).  Friday I was able to go out with my oldest son to a local boy heaven-- it had laser tag, arcades, go karts, and bowling under one roof (I happened to have some credits there from a couple of years ago, oops).  We did a couple of arcade games first; he had a good laugh at my terrible target shooting and I was duly impressed by his.  We also sat in some kind of motion simulator (only for him, let me tell you, I usually hate those things) and got our brains jiggled out against the jittery yellow vinyl backed seats, as we catapulted through a "haunted" mine.

Then he decided we should earn some tickets.  So we tried shooting some hoops, whereupon I introduced him to some good old fashioned "Skee-ball."  (best way to earn tickets, in my mind)  He liked it so much we used up the rest of the allowance on our cards and disappointedly tried to push the yellow button even though we knew we had no money left (just in case?).  He did eventually redeem our tickets for a couple super cheap plastic spiders to give his sisters when we got home.

Next up, laser tag.  Who knew how fun laser tag could be?  It was the two of us, a middle aged couple and their princess daughters (probably 5 and 7?), their son, and the acne-ridden guy who worked there (without him, lets just say....we'd have been annihilated  against a whole big group of twelve year-old boys.  It was so fun sneaking through the neon black darkness, hiding behind pillars, running, dodging, and trying to shoot the glowing vests of the deviously evil boys on the other team.  :) 

Then we visited the bowling alley.  On the way there, we laughed about my adventures in bowling as a twenty something, when I got three strikes in a row, impressing all the boys in the process (no one more surprised than myself), and then proceeded to bowl nearly straight gutter balls the rest of the game.  Lol.  I had a near repeat of this experience, in different sequence, as I'd bowl a strike and then a couple of gutter balls, etc.  He had a good laugh about that, though he often remained good naturedly concerned as he watched some of my shots veer toward the gutter, right until my ball was sucked silently into the bowling abyss.  He did pretty well himself, and we had a good laugh in a virtually empty bowling alley filled with eighties music.

Last of all, we went outside in stinging winter air to try out the go-karts, my son's favorite.  He offered to drive, and I got to be the giddy passenger.  He had been sharing his go kart driving exploits from a friends birthday party all weekend, so I was all prepared for some crazy driving.  And boy was it crazy!  He is normally pretty mild mannered, but he was aggressive in that machine, keeping the pedal to the metal all the way around the tight corners (I noticed his neck had some purplish marks from the seat belt for a couple of days afterward), and as I white knuckled a bit when he tried to pass some other swerving cars driven by boys of similar age.  I think I laughed most the way.  It was pretty fun, minus breathing in some heavy fumes between breath holding.

I love letting the outer adult go in times like these and remembering how it felt to be a kid.  Especially since my kids just seem to eat it up when I act like a kid with them for a bit.  And also letting the child I'm with lead the play.  Fun for both of us.

He thanked me a lot of times for our little "date."  That night, he curled up on my bed and said "Mom, I want to ask you something."  We ended up having a heart to heart conversation.

Have a wonderful weekend!  I will miss you, friends!  Goals next week, because I'm feeling lazy right now.  :)  Love to all.