The Concept of Dead

"Mama, look! A lady bug!" Chloe comes running toward me, stroking the orange colored bug.

"Go put it outside." I'm only half paying attention because I'm eating breakfast and reading a health news article. 

"But I can't! It's dead!"

Great, I think. "Well, put it in the garbage then." Logical? I think so. 

"No, I think I'll put him outside so he can get better."

I don't think she understands the concept of dead. 

Maybe this is why all my attempts to explain why certain things are very dangerous - e.g. keeping her car seat buckles buckled while we're in the car, or why she can't lean on her window screens - ultimately fail.

Poop in a Bag in the Fridge (True Story)

Last week, I got a chocolate craving. Bad. We only had chocolate chip cookies and dark chocolate frosting in the house. So, at 9:58 p.m., I'm standing in the kitchen making chocolate frosted cookies.

After eating my delicious chocolate goodness, I got tired. So I put the frosting in a bag to make it easier to frost the rest of the cookies the next day.

Well, that didn't happen. So, that bag of frosting sat in the fridge for a couple days.

I don't know how the kids didn't notice it sitting there for so long, considering they stand in front of the fridge with the door open scrounging for food all. the. time. But, anyway... they found it a few days later.

Now, that day was one of those days where I had said "No" more often than I care to remember and the kids had tuned me out hours earlier. So, when they found the frosting just before dinner, the last thing I wanted was to have them  relentlessly bugging me about it.

"What's this, Mom?" Chloe asks with the bag in her hand, standing in front of the fridge.

I don't know what to say, so I blurt out, "It's poop."

Chloe and Logan both give me a look of absolute confusion. I'm a little astonished at my own answer, quite honestly. I have no idea where it came from.

Logan tries to clarify, "What's in the bag?"

And, thinking to myself, well, what did I just do?  I guess I should follow through. So I said, "It's poop! Leave it alone."

Chloe set the bag down on the counter and looked at me like she was trying to figure me out. Then, she got curious. "Who pooped in a bag?! Tell me! Tell me who pooped in a bag!"

I'm now in hysterics.

Chloe continues on with her questioning, as though this is a perfectly normal conversation. "Why did someone poop in a bag?"

I can tell Logan is still processing. He just keeps piggybacking Chloe's questions, "Yeah Mom! Tell us!"

I'm a terrible liar. I just kept laughing, which only seemed to confuse them more.  I can't believe I've gotten myself into this mess! Fortunately,  dinner was basically ready.  So I distracted them with that, and hoped that they would completely forget what just went down.

Michael was not privy to this... mishap of mine. He wasn't home when it all went down and I tried to forget about it as quickly as I could. But, my kids forget NOTHING.

So, after dinner, Michael gives them their cookies and starts getting our dessert ready. I'm doing the dishes. All of a sudden, I hear Chloe start yelling, "No Daddy! That's poop!!" as Michael begins frosting our cookies.

I about die, and probably turned 20 shades of red,  because when I turned around, I see Michael licking an entire spoonful of the frosting, and Chloe and Logan looking at him in utter horror. And, in that moment, I quickly realized that I have to confess because otherwise I will very likely encounter my children eating their poop, or at the very least, find a real bag of poop in the fridge at some point in the future. 

So, while still laughing uncontrollably, I manage to say, "Guys, I was just kidding with you. It's not poop. It's actually frosting."

Chloe gives me another look of utter confusion. She really doesn't know what to make of me at this moment. "It's not poop?" she asks.

"No, Chloe. It's frosting."

"Can I smell it?" Why, yes. Yes, you can dear. So, she timidly sniffs the chocolaty fluff.

"Can I taste it?" Sure! And she dips her finger in it.

Then Logan wants to get in on the action. He sniffs and tastes, and then asks, "Why didn't you tell us it was frosting?" Hmmm.... good question, kid. I have no idea! But, I tell them, "Because I didn't want you guys bugging me about it right before dinner."

We then go over the fact that it is FROSTING and NOT poop about 15 more times, just to make sure they understand. I'm still not really convinced that they get it. And I have a bad feeling that, one day, I will discover a nightmare of my own making.

Moral of the story, don't lie to your kids. Especially about frosting.

Ladybug

My little girl. 

As I'm laying in bed tonight crying (I really dislike pregnancy hormones!), she comes over to me, pats my hand, and says, "Aww, Mommy, are you sad? Do you miss your Daddy?... It's okay Mommy. Just sing, 'Rock-A-Bye-Baby, in the treetop...' See? It's all better."

No matter how hard our days are sometimes, her little mothering spirit is something that always brings me immense joy. I'm so excited to see how her personality blossoms in the years to come. 

Moments from Motherhood: Bath Time

Run the water from the spout,
Tiny, clear bubbles erupt and pop.
Two squealing babies into the tub,
Splashing, playing, washing and rinsing.
I scrub the paint off their hands and knees,
And the peanut butter and jelly out of their hair.
I clean the sand off their little white bottoms,
And the dirt out from under their fingernails.
We rinse all of the soap away, and say "bye-bye"
As the dirty water flows down the drain.
Wrap them tightly in a fluffy towel,
Hear their giggles as they try to escape.
I help them brush their teeth and hair,
And dress them in their soft pajamas.
We settle down to read some baby animal books,
My little man is hanging on me, rubbing his hair,
Fighting sleep with everything he has.
In his crib, he flips, and tosses, and turns,
Sometimes peeking out, saying "hi."
Until he finally floats off into a peaceful sleep.
My baby girl snuggles up next to me,
She asks me to tell her stories about
Princesses and Princes, Queens and Kings,
Scooby Door and snapping crabs.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes, and I tell her
As many silly stories as I can think of
About royalty, cartoons, and where I grew up.
I tell her about how Daddy and I met,
And how much I want for all of us to go home.
She giggles, and falls asleep with a smile on her face.
I drift off to sleep, saying a silent prayer
That we really will be back there soon,
But, for now, I will just dream with my babies near.

The Play Room

Lesson learned this week:

Play rooms belong in a basement, or the back of the house; and, windows are optional.

 

Earlier this week, I bought a gate for the play room. I thought this was a great idea! Genius, even. My thought was, "I can put the kids in there and know that they are safe if, let's say, I decide to take a quick shower, or if I really need to fold some laundry, or whatever." Not kidding.

You see, Logan has recently become quite enamored with the stairs, and the kitchen cabinets, and the toilet, and the garbage. And, Chloe is just... Chloe. They are both into anything and everything all the time. So, it is vital to my sanity that I can keep them occupied without chasing after them all the time.

On Tuesday, that's just what I did. I put them in their room and took a shower. When I was ready for the day (at 3:30p.m., mind you), they were still playing so I decided to get some laundry folded and my dishes done while they were still happy. Because Logan was getting tired, I didn't really want to be seen because I knew he'd lose it. I peeked in a few times, but I mostly just listened for any blood-curdling screams, or total silence.

About 30 minutes later, I went out to our car and I see Chloe standing in the window. (Side note: the play room has a BIG window that almost touches the floor. It is also in the very front of the house...quite visible from our street, or the main road just steps away). I decided to jump in front of the window to try to scare her. Except, to my utter dismay, she is standing there STARK NAKED!!

I have NO idea how long she had been free-flying. I couldn't even bring myself to check the whole room for wet spots. I'm surprised CPS hasn't shown up at my door.

Time Out

Does it work for you? I'm not so sure it works for us. Here's how it typically goes:

Me: "Chloe, stop doing that."
Chloe: "NO!"

I give her one more chance, because sometimes that works. Most times, it doesn't. So, then this happens.

Me: "You are in trouble now. Go to the corner for your time out."
(Really, I'm yelling by this point. I just pretend that I'm calm and collected for your benefit.)
Chloe: *screaming & kicking* NO!!!!!

I drag her to the corner. The first 5 seconds she stands there without doing or saying anything. Then she turns around, or picks at the wall, or sits down, or something.

Me: "Put your nose in the corner." I need to be sure she knows this is a punishment.
Chloe: "No! Leave me alone!"

I start counting to 3 while she tries to hit me. I'm really good at blocking her blows. I grab her hands and turn her around so she is facing the corner.

Me: "Chloe, we do not hit! And, you do not tell me no!"

She is still screaming and hitting. Depending on her mood, this part may take a while. Then suddenly, in her pathetic voice, she starts counting...

Chloe: "One, two, tree, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eweven, or-teen, sixteen, eighteen... I'm sorry Mommy. I didn't mean to. I'm not bad, I good! I sorry Mama..."

This goes on until I acknowledge she is talking, which depends on how upset I am. Then, I ask her what she did wrong.

Chloe: "Umm..." She puts her index finger on her cheek. This is a hard question.

Then, without answering me, she starts smiling and posing. She twists her upper body to the side and rests her chin on her shoulder, all the while batting her eyelashes at me. She's giving it all she's got. (Michael is a sucker for this act.)

I look away because I know I'm going to start laughing. This is a sign of weakness, and she knows it. No matter where I look, she maneuvers herself to be in my field of vision.

She knows it's working.

I collect myself, not willing to give in. I look her straight in the eyes and ask her again what she did wrong.

Chloe: "Umm...." She starts tapping her cheek again, "No hitting, no screaming, no biting." She starts reciting The Rules. (Side note: she made up The Rules. I did not have anything to do with it.)

At some point, I decide to help her out. I tell her that she does not tell me no, that I am the mommy and she has to listen to me when I ask her to do something, hitting is bad, and so on.

She just looks at me with a blank stare. And, then she's off and running.

I always feel defeated and I'm pretty sure she thinks she has won. I need to figure out a new form of punishment.

Playmates

Almost one year ago, we brought Logan home from the hospital. Chloe has loved every second of being a big sister. (Mostly because up until now, she has been able to boss him around.) But, lately, Logan has figured out that he doesn't have to listen to her.

He screams, and grunts, and growls all the time - he is ALL boy. And, since Chloe believes the rules apply to everyone else but her, loves to tell (okay, yell at) him that "screaming is bad." Logan just keeps on going. The noise level in our home is... extreme sometimes.

It is amazing and exciting to see them playing on the same level, to hear Logan start laughing and giggling when he sees Chloe for the first time in the morning, or after their naps. His entire face just lights up because his playmate has come back.

It's even funnier to see him seeking his revenge.

The other morning, he was running around in his walker when Chloe finally got up (unusually late). She was still very groggy, but Logan saw his window if opportunity and jumped on it. He ran over to her, grabbed her binky out of her mouth and took off running. Chloe was stunned.

I would be too if I was robbed first thing in the morning.

Time

Today is one of those days where I'm asking myself, "How did we get here?"

Logan will be 1 year old in two days.
Chloe is 28 months old and acts every bit like a two year old.
We have lived in our home for over 3 years now.
Michael and I will be celebrating our 4th wedding anniversary in June.
He has been out of college for 5 years; I have been out for 4 years.
We both started high school 12 years ago.
I have known my best friends anywhere from 7 to 25 years.

How does that happen? I don't feel old enough to have lived all of those years in between.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm living someone else's life; like the things that happened to me must have happened to someone else because it just doesn't feel possible to squeeze all of that into my short lifetime. But, there are other times, like today, when I get a reality check. I feel so old and so young at the same time. What am I going to do in another 25 years?

Resolutions

Is it really time for new resolutions again? Oh man. I didn't even tackle last year's resolutions (oops).

But, I figure that a new year brings a fresh slate with it. So, I'm forgetting all of the resolutions I made last year and moving forward.

This year, I'm setting my goals relatively low for two really big reasons:
1. I have a 2 year old and a 1 year old. Enough said.
2. Our house is still under major construction and probably will be for most of this year.

I can't feasibly expect that in the middle of this I'll be able to tackle a long list of resolutions.

So, with that said, here are my 3 goals for 2013:

1. Spend more time intentionally with the kiddos: do more crafts, cooking and baking, creating and playing. Cherish this time, really. And take a lot of pictures.

2. Finish the house and get it on the market by the end of this year. (Oh, that's a biggy.)

3. Cultivate a spirit of gratefulness using these Prayer and Blessings Jars. I will write at least 1 note per day for each jar.

And, that's it. That's all I think I can handle this year.

What are your resolutions?

Lately...

Oh, it has been a while.

Things around here have been going at a pretty fast pace since the beginning of November. Today is the first day in 2 weeks that I don't have something to do or somewhere to be.

Hubby started his new job at the beginning of November. It's been great so far. He is really enjoying it :-)

It was also apparently my month to battle mice in our home. It was a pretty terrible thing. They got into just about every room in the house, including the kid's toy room and their dresser upstairs!!

Needless to say, I'm still not finished cleaning up from this mess. My laundry room was literally full of the kids laundry and toys that I had (and have yet) to wash. I wish I had gotten a picture.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure the mice are gone now. We haven't caught any in a while. At least, they better be, now that I have disinfected, sanitized and vacuumed our home.

It also marked the beginning of the final stages of our house renovation! So far, we have built a wall for a closet in the front bedroom and walled in the entrance from that room into the main bathroom. I'm also working on repainting all of the kitchen cabinets - inside and outside. We're going to be replacing the countertops and back splash too. And, my Dad is building new cabinet doors as well. (I'll post pictures soon.)

And, last but not least, my niece was born at the beginning of December! Norah Elizabeth was born December 5th at 9:48am. She weighed in at 8lbs 5ozs, and was 20in long! I'm SO excited for Suzi and Robert. It was absolutely incredible to be there when she was born. I even cut the cord :-)

I'm so excited for Christmas this year. It's going to be great!

Nighttime Memories

Sometimes, I want to record the moments that drive me completely insane. It isn't because I want to complain. It's because I so desperately want to make sure I remember them.

Someday, I will long for the chance to spend one more minute putting my babies to sleep. I will desperately try to remember Chloe's sweet little voice calling out "Mommy, hold my hand. Sing, 'rock-bye baby, in treetop, wind blows, the cradle-adle'" and the thousands of times I have sung that lullaby song to her while I held her hand as she finally gives in.

I will laugh when I think about how she would slump herself over the crib railing and tell me she's going to sleep like that.

And, someday, I will smile when I remember Logan pulling himself into my lap and laying his head on my chest when he has had enough playtime and wants to sleep.

I will be sad when I think about all of his tummy problems and all of the sleepless nights we have had this first year.

And, someday, I will cry for all of the lost time. I will wish that I could have taken a little more joy in these moments now, instead of just trying to get through them.

Planning

I've made it a habit lately to write down everything I did each day in my planner. I make to-do lists almost every day, but I find that what I usually end up doing isn't even on the radar.

It's a calming exercise for me: remembering, recording, giving thanks. It gives me the rare opportunity to reflect on the events of the day, to feel as though I really did accomplish something, that I made a difference.

I don't just record the big tasks, I try to record the small moments too. Everything from the errands I ran, chores I finished, people I called, remodel projects I worked on, funny things the kids did. Everything.

And, when I look back over the day, or the week, I feel like I've done something, like I'm living a purposeful life.

What do you do to help yourself reflect and remember?

Answer to Prayer

I'm still trying to process everything that's happened over the last two days. It's just amazing to me how fast everything can change, how our worlds can be turned upside-down when God answers our prayers.

We closed on our refinance on Tuesday. Not only were we able to cut our interest rate in half, but we were able to take enough out of the equity of the house to pay off some student loans and finish off the rest of our big project house. All without significantly raising our monthly mortgage payment.

And, as if that wasn't enough, Hubby received two job offers this week! One was Tuesday afternoon and the other was Wednesday morning. After some consideration, he accepted the second offer. The best part about this offer is definitely the fact that we will be able to move back to the Midwest!!

It makes me so unbelievably happy to think that we'll be able to raise our children there, where we both grew up (more so for me than Hubby).

We'll be back around our families and best friends.
We'll pick blueberries and strawberries in the spring and summer.
We'll pick apples and make leave piles in the fall.
We'll make snow angels and igloos in the winter.
We'll be able to experience the grandness of Chicago and the wonderful quiet of the lake.

We'll be able to share the experiences that shaped us most with them.
We'll fulfilled and happy.
I'm so unbelievably grateful.

"Alleluia! Give thanks to Yahweh for he is good, his faithful love lasts for ever."

-Psalm 107:1

Amen.

The Anatomy of a Wasted Day

At least once a week, I have a day that is a complete waste. I don't get anything on my To-Do List done. I wear pajamas/sweats the entire day. I don't shower or brush my teeth until after 4pm (which just seems useless at that point). I don't get out of the house. I don't do anything fun with the kids. I don't get caught up on laundry or dishes (or any other chore that never seems to end).

I merely get by... And, I barely even do that.

I never mean to have a wasted day. I always start the day off with high hopes of accomplishing something on my To-Do List.

But, somewhere between waking up in the morning and going to bed that night, something - okay, so a lot of somethings - go a little (or a lot) wonky.

Yesterday was one of those days.

At the very least, I wanted to go to the bank to drop off some paperwork. But, Chloe didn't sleep well the night before so she went down early for what turned out to be a four and half hour long nap. Logan didn't nap for more than an hour (forty minutes of which I was holding him so it hardly counts). And, he screamed at me on and off for almost 2 hours while I was trying to do some other things, like, you know, shower.

Days like this are so hard to appreciate. It's hard for me to take a step back to see the forest. I feel like a failure.

But, I have to. I don't have a fall back option. I can't just pass the kids off and take a break.

I am a mom. I am a super hero. Every day. Even if all I can do for that day is merely get through it.

The Windmill

Pure, white propellers 
Against the canvas of the sky and field.
You are a beacon of strength
Through every season, your days remain the same.
Turning, and turning, and turning
During wind, and storm, and rain.

But, I am nothing but a fickle leaf
Stuck to my home, my apple tree. 
Green, red, gold, and brown,
I never stay the same -
Blown from here to there by any whim or care
And, reflect the changing seasons like a mirror.
Shaking, and soaring, and falling,
For I am nothing but a fickle leaf.

Perspective

It's been a long time since I have been really present. I feel like I've been in a daze for last month and have missed out on so much.

But, tonight, I tried really hard. We came to Mom's house to celebrate Nano's birthday. Chloe was her usual, rambunctious self.

She tried at least twelve times to get us to sing saying, "Hum on ehrybody! Happy birt-day to Nano! Hum on!" She ran, jumped, and danced with Liz. She even crawled on the floor with Suzi. While Mom held Logan, I gave her a bath. We played and splashed and screamed when I washed her hair.

And, when I put her to bed, we said our night-time prayers. She asked to read a couple stories so I left her alone. But, she had a really hard time falling asleep tonight. One of the last times I went in to check on her, she started reciting Rock-A-Bye Baby and told me to sing (which, I did). She finally fell asleep while holding my hand.

It was a good night. I wish I could have this much patience every night. Or, even just a good attitude.

But, right now, I'm just happy I had it tonight. And for now, that is enough.

Paranoia

I feel like a crazy person. I'm pretty sure I have, in fact, lost my mind.

Even though we've had someone staying with us almost every night, I can't get the "what if" nightmares to stop. And, it isn't getting better, it's getting worse. It's like the shock has finally worn off and my anxiety and fear has kicked in full gear.

So, the kids and I have been staying over at Mom's house lately because I desperately need sleep and it will not happen at that house. Not in the foreseeable future, anyway.

I tell Chloe that we're going to sleepover at Grandma's house. She gets so excited, it's like I just told her it was Christmas and she can open all her presents tonight. I am very grateful she hasn't been affected by the whole thing.

Logan thinks the whole thing is pretty sweet too. He doesn't want to go to sleep, ever. Tonight, he didn't finally give in, after putting up a really big fight, until 10:45.

I'm thinking I might contact our parish's Stephen Ministry group this week. I need some help. I need some perspective. I need to get to the point where I can leave this in God's hands and be okay.

I so desperately want to be okay again.

TWO!

My dearest Chloe Bear,

Today, you turn two! (Did I really just say that? When did that happen?) How did we go from this precious newborn

To this little girl?

I feel like somewhere along the way, I must have stopped counting the days, or taking the time to really savor all of those precious little moments, because there is NO WAY you could be two years old already.

And yet, here we are baby girl.

In the last two years, you have rolled over, crawled and walked (finally!).
You have gotten twenty teeth and grown the most beautiful head of curly red hair.
You have started talking (nonstop).
You run, skip and jump (more like a one-footed hop).
You sing along to your favorite songs from Raffi, The Wonder Pets, Strawberry Shortcake and Dora.
You make friends everywhere you go and love playing with your cousins, aunts and uncles.
You are the sweetest big sister to Logan.
You adore your Daddy and think he is your personal jungle-gym.
You love taking walks to the snow cone stand, playing at the park, coloring, painting, dressing-up and reading books together.

You are loving.
You are creative.
You are strong.
You are adventurous.
You are spirited.

My dear, you made me a mother. You have taught me more about the meaning of life than I ever could have learned on my own. Your joyfulness and enthusiasm for life rubs off on everyone you meet and you keep these otherwise mundane days interesting with all of your antics and ideas. I feel incredibly blessed to be your mother.

I love you with all my heart,

Mama Bear

Weird

This is the first time in 2 years that I haven't had at least 1 car seat in the back seat. It was weird. I felt so lonely.

August 23, 2012, 12:52AM

Dear Anxiety,

I thought I had you beat.

I worked very hard all summer to get rid of as many external stressors as possible. I spent my free time organizing and cleaning. I put together piles and piles of things that we sold at the garage sale, sent to the consignment store, or donated to Goodwill. I went through our budget and figured out where we could cut our expenses. I started trying to do some more cooking and menu planning.

My not-so-free time was spent rediscovering the joys of motherhood. The kids and I went for walks to the park or to get snow cones. We went to the zoo. We went to Grandma's house, swam in the kiddie pools, played on the swing set and with bouncy balls. We blew bubbles. We painted and colored. I was feeling pretty content, actually. I would even say that I was happy.

But, in a matter of eight minutes, all of my hard work went down the drain.

Now I have about three anxiety attacks every single day. Every time the kids and I get home, I have to check the entire house to make sure no one is hiding somewhere. When the dogs start barking, day or night, I have to go check to make sure it is nothing I should worry about. If I see someone walking down the street, I have to watch to make sure they are not coming to our house. Before I go to bed each night, I have to check all of our doors at least four times to make sure they are locked, and if I can't clearly remember checking them, I have to do them all again.

Eight terrifying minutes. That's all it took.

The most infuriating part of this whole ordeal is how it was handled by the police department. On the one hand, I want to believe their story. I want to tell myself everything is okay; it was a fluke incident. There wasn't any criminal intent. But, on the other hand, I just cannot do that. There are too many things that don't add up with the "official" story, and I'm driving myself crazy thinking of all of those things.

I want to go back in time. I want to be the mother I was before all this happened. I want to feel safe again.

The worst part is, I don't know how I'll ever get that back.

But, I will . I don't know how, but I will. So, Anxiety, take this as a warning. You will not win.

Sincerely,

Me