Kate has had a wonderful year with her amazing piano teacher, Bridget McBride. She has made fantastic progress and has loved every second of it. OK, well ALMOST every second of it. She does gripe here and there. She's a normal kid, and sometimes practicing isn't easy to do when there are TV shows to watch, friends to play with, and art projects to attack.
Some time in the last few months, Josh and Sophie have noticed that Kate's progress seems a little bit quicker than their progress. They both decided they would like to try lessons from Bridget, so today is the big day! All three of my kids have a lesson this morning. I'm excited for them and grateful for Bridget. However, I'm also embarrassed that she is going to see just how badly I've done as a teacher for them.
When I was in college, our pedagogy professor asked us all to swear not to teach our own children. He said it was a very bad idea, and almost never was successful. I thought I could prove him wrong. I've been teaching since I was 19, and I've had some great successes. I know my craft.
But he was right.
My children simply don't listen to me as a professional. They don't take my suggestions seriously. (What's THAT about? Don't all children just soak in everything their parents try to teach them?) There have been many tears at the piano bench over the last few years, and eventually I kind of gave up, and let them get away with the bare minimum. Sorry, kids! But sending them to another teacher didn't seem like a possibility with my crazy teaching schedule, and I hoped they'd learn all their musical lessons from their cello and violin teachers.
Today, however, we start a new era! I'm interested to see how this experiment will pay off.
Showing posts with label Parenting isn't for Wimps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting isn't for Wimps. Show all posts
Friday, June 12, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Bubble Wrapping Not Available
Let's face it, parenting has its moments of both sheer joy and utter despair. Tonight may not fall in the range of despair, but a lot of it has been just plain yucky.
Here's the backstory. Josh loves soccer. He played rec soccer for a few years with a wonderful team and a couple of great coaches. He wasn't a star on his team, but he played with a lot of heart. Two years ago, he made the second tier competition team for our club, and he loved it. LOVED it. The boys and parents were great, as was his coach. He learned so much, grew leaps and bounds as a player, and did I mention he LOVED it? By the end of the year, though, I could see that his skills were not quite matching those of the strongest players. He wasn't quite as aggressive as them, didn't have quite the skill level that they did. He was on the bench more and more frequently, and I just got a pit in my stomach when I thought about tryouts in May. I encouraged (kindly and supportively) Josh to practice frequently, to go on training runs, and to work hard to move forward in his ability, but when the second night of tryouts came around, it was totally obvious that Josh was being cut from his team.
That was a yucky night.
He handled his disappointment with grace. I kept a stiff upper lip, but I was devastated for him. He tried to shrug it off, and he felt like it was the right thing at that time, but it still stung, and we both knew it.
He decided to play with some other friends on a rec team this year. He's been able to really shine as a striker, has made lots of goals, and enjoyed seeing his buddies. But he wasn't really being trained, and his skills weren't really improving. He has just had a good time. (Really, in the long run, isn't that what sports are for?) It's been a very pleasant year for all of us. It's been cheaper, less stress, less travel, less car-pooling, and less time-commitment. All in all, it was a good year.
But he wanted to get back on his team.
So tonight was the last night of tryouts. He was scrappy, more aggressive than he had been last year. I had high hopes for him. And then they called numbers for the final scrimmage and it was clear who would be in the two comp teams.
Not my sweet boy.
Sometimes I want to bubble wrap my kids, to keep them safe from pain. I want to protect their bodies from being hurt, their hearts from being broken, their spirits from being crushed. But I can't. And I know it's not healthy to keep them from heartache and disappointment. Being disappointed is part of living. Pain is part of living. Without it, we never really grow. We never really improve or become better people.
I know that. And I know that it is better for my kids to learn to handle disappointment when I can still be there to help pick up the pieces, to model a good attitude, to take them out for ice cream and let them have a double scoop.
But it still stinks. And I still wish things were different.
Here's the backstory. Josh loves soccer. He played rec soccer for a few years with a wonderful team and a couple of great coaches. He wasn't a star on his team, but he played with a lot of heart. Two years ago, he made the second tier competition team for our club, and he loved it. LOVED it. The boys and parents were great, as was his coach. He learned so much, grew leaps and bounds as a player, and did I mention he LOVED it? By the end of the year, though, I could see that his skills were not quite matching those of the strongest players. He wasn't quite as aggressive as them, didn't have quite the skill level that they did. He was on the bench more and more frequently, and I just got a pit in my stomach when I thought about tryouts in May. I encouraged (kindly and supportively) Josh to practice frequently, to go on training runs, and to work hard to move forward in his ability, but when the second night of tryouts came around, it was totally obvious that Josh was being cut from his team.
That was a yucky night.
He handled his disappointment with grace. I kept a stiff upper lip, but I was devastated for him. He tried to shrug it off, and he felt like it was the right thing at that time, but it still stung, and we both knew it.
He decided to play with some other friends on a rec team this year. He's been able to really shine as a striker, has made lots of goals, and enjoyed seeing his buddies. But he wasn't really being trained, and his skills weren't really improving. He has just had a good time. (Really, in the long run, isn't that what sports are for?) It's been a very pleasant year for all of us. It's been cheaper, less stress, less travel, less car-pooling, and less time-commitment. All in all, it was a good year.
But he wanted to get back on his team.
So tonight was the last night of tryouts. He was scrappy, more aggressive than he had been last year. I had high hopes for him. And then they called numbers for the final scrimmage and it was clear who would be in the two comp teams.
Not my sweet boy.
Sometimes I want to bubble wrap my kids, to keep them safe from pain. I want to protect their bodies from being hurt, their hearts from being broken, their spirits from being crushed. But I can't. And I know it's not healthy to keep them from heartache and disappointment. Being disappointed is part of living. Pain is part of living. Without it, we never really grow. We never really improve or become better people.
I know that. And I know that it is better for my kids to learn to handle disappointment when I can still be there to help pick up the pieces, to model a good attitude, to take them out for ice cream and let them have a double scoop.
But it still stinks. And I still wish things were different.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
My Sweet Girls
This morning I walked in from a run to sounds of screaming and yelling from the general direction of my girls' room. This is not how I like to walk into my house. I would prefer to walk into a house full of happy, smiling children who are fully dressed with their teeth brushed and hair combed, preparing breakfast and setting the table (since I'm apparently living in dreamland, maybe they would also have finished their practicing and cleaned their rooms.) Has this ever happened? Of course not, but that doesn't stop me from fantasizing.
The girls were at that almost-fever pitch where they're not entirely sure why they're so mad, but they're just bugging each other more and more and spiraling nearly out of control. I let them know that they would be doing many extra jobs if they didn't quit it immediately. They didn't quit it immediately (why do I think they will?) and Kate will now be putting away laundry after school.
But three minutes later, Kate had made Sophie's bed, and Sophie was hugging her and saying thank you, and they were all of a sudden those happy, smiling children I would always love to have.
Life with these children is never boring. And sometimes it's so sweet.
(And sometimes it makes me want to hide somewhere dark and quiet for a few hours.)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Sick Kids
I'm not very nice to my sick kids.
I'm not MEAN to them, but I'm not the sympathetic nurse type. I TRY to be. I get soda for them and let them watch TV and take their temperatures, and read out loud to them, and give them medicine. But inwardly, I'm thinking, "Man. This is kind of a pain."
That's not very nice, is it?
Actually, it's kind of an inverse relationship. When they're REALLY sick, with super high fevers, achey bodies, and they're all-around really very miserable, I'm actually quite kind. The sicker they are, the nicer I am, and I'm not faking it. I really hate to see my kids in pain. But when it's the fifth day of the flu, and they're now just kind of under the weather, and the TV's been on for hours every day, and I'm thinking that I'm kind of done with the whole thing, well, I stop with all the niceties and start suggesting it might be time to practice, or do homework, or go back to school, or stop complaining, or just go to bed if they can't think of anything to do but watch TV.
And when I'm not really sure that they're sick at all? When they just MIGHT be crying wolf? Like when one child in particular complains Every Single Day about yet another different ailment?
I'm kind of a bear. A really snappy, unsympathetic bear who tells kids to suck it up and go to school already.
I guess I need to practice my nursing skills. And I get to! Lucky me! Josh is on his fourth day of the flu, and I'm a little worried that Kate is coming down with it, if her sniffles and sore throat and general grumpiness is any indication.
I have been pretty good this time around. Josh has been REALLY sick. His fever is high, his eyes look sunken (yes, I'm throwing liquids at him left and right) and he's worn out and weak, and I just wish I could help him feel all better. Poor guy. So with all this real suffering, I've been feeling very kind and loving. The inverse relationship, remember? We've started reading Lord of the Rings together and he's digging that. I've made him hot chocolate, smoothies, brought him root beer floats, taken him to the doctor, gone to the library for new books for him... That's all pretty good. But I'm kind of running out of ideas.
So what do all of you kind and sympathetic moms do when your kids are sick? What makes your kids feel loved and protected? Maybe I just need something new in my bag of tricks...
I'm not MEAN to them, but I'm not the sympathetic nurse type. I TRY to be. I get soda for them and let them watch TV and take their temperatures, and read out loud to them, and give them medicine. But inwardly, I'm thinking, "Man. This is kind of a pain."
That's not very nice, is it?
Actually, it's kind of an inverse relationship. When they're REALLY sick, with super high fevers, achey bodies, and they're all-around really very miserable, I'm actually quite kind. The sicker they are, the nicer I am, and I'm not faking it. I really hate to see my kids in pain. But when it's the fifth day of the flu, and they're now just kind of under the weather, and the TV's been on for hours every day, and I'm thinking that I'm kind of done with the whole thing, well, I stop with all the niceties and start suggesting it might be time to practice, or do homework, or go back to school, or stop complaining, or just go to bed if they can't think of anything to do but watch TV.
And when I'm not really sure that they're sick at all? When they just MIGHT be crying wolf? Like when one child in particular complains Every Single Day about yet another different ailment?
I'm kind of a bear. A really snappy, unsympathetic bear who tells kids to suck it up and go to school already.
I guess I need to practice my nursing skills. And I get to! Lucky me! Josh is on his fourth day of the flu, and I'm a little worried that Kate is coming down with it, if her sniffles and sore throat and general grumpiness is any indication.
I have been pretty good this time around. Josh has been REALLY sick. His fever is high, his eyes look sunken (yes, I'm throwing liquids at him left and right) and he's worn out and weak, and I just wish I could help him feel all better. Poor guy. So with all this real suffering, I've been feeling very kind and loving. The inverse relationship, remember? We've started reading Lord of the Rings together and he's digging that. I've made him hot chocolate, smoothies, brought him root beer floats, taken him to the doctor, gone to the library for new books for him... That's all pretty good. But I'm kind of running out of ideas.
So what do all of you kind and sympathetic moms do when your kids are sick? What makes your kids feel loved and protected? Maybe I just need something new in my bag of tricks...
Sunday, March 15, 2009
On Music
So I wrote a post yesterday about our crazy month and all of the music stuff we're involved in. Something about it didn't ring true, and I pulled the post after a couple of hours. I'm still not sure why. March IS crazy, we ARE very involved with music, and everything I wrote was dead on.
BUT, I think that the post missed the point that is most important to me. All of the varied activities my kids are involved in are for one thing and one thing only (or at least, that's my goal): to help them live a more fulfilled and happy life now and/or in the future. We sacrifice a little comfort and peace right now because in order to be happy adults, they must learn how to do some basic things: work, love, sacrifice, enjoy, and serve.
So all of the various musical activities the kids are involved in are not the end-all, be-all. They play music because I believe it teaches them important short-term lessons, but even more importantly, they're learning for the long term. Are they going to be professional musicians? Likely not. Are they going to be musicians? I hope so. But even if we eventually decide to pull them from private lessons at some point, there are important life lessons that they'll have learned from them.
They'll have learned that progress takes incremental steps over long periods of time.
They'll have learned that making mistakes is part of the learning process
They'll have learned that mistakes can actually teach us what we need to do differently, to take different approaches to old problems.
They'll have learned to take criticism.
They'll have learned to communicate emotions in healthy ways (other than the screaming at the piano bench. That's not so healthy.)
They'll have learned that three people can play the same piece three different ways, with each way being acceptable. Having alternate points of view in life is healthy and interesting.
They'll have learned to pick themselves up after a disaster.
They'll have learned that sacrificing what they want right now (to watch TV) for what they want later (to play their recital pieces well and communicate something to the audience) is worth it.
Each of my children has different abilities and passions musically. One is very gifted rhythmically, one has an incredible sense of pitch. One struggles at dealing with basic corrections. One will play sections over and over again without prodding. One plays for more than an hour a day without being asked, one practices because it's an expectation and because there is no media time before practicing is finished, and one practices only after much struggle Every Single Time. But I think that music has something to teach each of them.
Music can help teach my children those basic life lessons I want them to have: to work, to enjoy, to sacrifice, to love, and to serve. I know that I've learned these things from my musical journey. For us, it's worth the stresses and the struggles. And it's not all stresses and struggles. There are joys along the path, too. Just like life.
Look at me, with another analogy...pretty impressive, isn't it?
BUT, I think that the post missed the point that is most important to me. All of the varied activities my kids are involved in are for one thing and one thing only (or at least, that's my goal): to help them live a more fulfilled and happy life now and/or in the future. We sacrifice a little comfort and peace right now because in order to be happy adults, they must learn how to do some basic things: work, love, sacrifice, enjoy, and serve.
So all of the various musical activities the kids are involved in are not the end-all, be-all. They play music because I believe it teaches them important short-term lessons, but even more importantly, they're learning for the long term. Are they going to be professional musicians? Likely not. Are they going to be musicians? I hope so. But even if we eventually decide to pull them from private lessons at some point, there are important life lessons that they'll have learned from them.
They'll have learned that progress takes incremental steps over long periods of time.
They'll have learned that making mistakes is part of the learning process
They'll have learned that mistakes can actually teach us what we need to do differently, to take different approaches to old problems.
They'll have learned to take criticism.
They'll have learned to communicate emotions in healthy ways (other than the screaming at the piano bench. That's not so healthy.)
They'll have learned that three people can play the same piece three different ways, with each way being acceptable. Having alternate points of view in life is healthy and interesting.
They'll have learned to pick themselves up after a disaster.
They'll have learned that sacrificing what they want right now (to watch TV) for what they want later (to play their recital pieces well and communicate something to the audience) is worth it.
Each of my children has different abilities and passions musically. One is very gifted rhythmically, one has an incredible sense of pitch. One struggles at dealing with basic corrections. One will play sections over and over again without prodding. One plays for more than an hour a day without being asked, one practices because it's an expectation and because there is no media time before practicing is finished, and one practices only after much struggle Every Single Time. But I think that music has something to teach each of them.
Music can help teach my children those basic life lessons I want them to have: to work, to enjoy, to sacrifice, to love, and to serve. I know that I've learned these things from my musical journey. For us, it's worth the stresses and the struggles. And it's not all stresses and struggles. There are joys along the path, too. Just like life.
Look at me, with another analogy...pretty impressive, isn't it?
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
What I Wished I'd Known
With Baby Celia's arrival, and the impending arrival of Kurt & Ash's baby, I've been remembering those joy-filled, exhausted, worried, awe-struck, painful months as a first-time mother. It would be nice (OK, and a little weird) to be able to go back in time to give myself some advice. (Would I take advice from myself? I don't generally take it well from anyone else...)
So here are some of the things I'd tell my nervous, thrilled, overwhelmed self:
In pregnancy:
Regardless of what you read in "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and "What to Expect the First Year," the baby will not be damaged beyond repair if you eat things made from white flour. And sugar...it's OK, too. Really.
Stretch marks don't really fade and they don't really go away. They're there forever. Accept them as a badge of honor. Plus, are you honestly going to be wearing a bikini anytime soon with that scar on your back? (Another story.)
Your weight will come off just fine. Don't stress about eating yet another shake. But after this pregnancy, honey, all bets are off, and you should have cottage cheese, not ice cream.
After the baby comes:
Don't leave the baby near the edge of the bed, because he'll become suddenly mobile and fall off, sending you to the doctor's office where you'll have to let the doctor fill out forms which say you really didn't drop him on purpose.
It's OK to call Nurseline three times the first week of his life. They won't laugh at you when you ask if it's normal that his heart rate is so high or whether or not it's bad that you can't wake him up to eat. Well, they might laugh at the waking him up call, but it will be a kind, gentle, reassuring laugh. Call the experts whenever you want if it makes you worry less.
Breastfeeding will be horrible for at least 5-7 weeks. Ignore people who tell you it's because your latch is wrong. It's because you have red hair and the whitest skin known to man. You lost that genetic lottery. (Do talk to a lactation specialist, though, just to be sure...a bad latch is a bad thing.) Eventually everything will work out great. Stay up on your pain meds until then.
Pacifiers? Yeah, another time to ignore "What to Expect the First Year." They will save your life.
Don't go back to work after three weeks. Just don't do it. Please. It will save you so much stress.
And in general:
Relax. You're all going to make it through.
Don't judge other people. You can try to judge based on how their parenting works (by their fruits ye shall know them), but a lot of the time, you'll be wrong anyway. Remember, all kids are different. Just because you swore you'd never have a picky eater doesn't mean that he won't come hardwired to eat only four things. Oh, and it's going to be YOUR second child who kicks, hits, and bites, so don't judge the other kids in nursery (or their parents).
Don't judge, and relax, but BE CONSISTENT!!!!!!!!!!! Set rules and follow through. Every time. (And then again, pick your battles. You can't win everything.)
Turn off the TV.
Except, you're going to have bad days. Some days will last an eternity, and you'll be sure you're doing everything wrong. This too shall pass. On these days, turn ON the TV and just plan to get through the day the best way you can.
Get enough sleep. Even if the house doesn't get clean, even if you don't make a hot dinner for three days. Get enough sleep. Everyone around you will thank you, and you'll thank yourself.
Find great, dear, amazing, supportive, non-judging friends.
Love your husband and take care of him. Let him know what you need, too. And remind him that eventually baby days end and you'll be normal again.
Don't worry about giving up some of your individuality, the things you do best. (This is controversial, I know.) It's OK for a while to let go of some things to make sure that you don't miss the important things. You'll have time to be that person again. (I PROMISE you will.) But if you find yourself sinking, don't forget who you are at the core. Play some music. Read your old journals. Remind yourself that you're a mother, but you're also who you were before you had a baby, only deeper, more tuned in to life's truths. Oh, and more tired.
That would be a good beginning to a conversation, I'm sure...too bad I had to muddle through without the help.
So here are some of the things I'd tell my nervous, thrilled, overwhelmed self:
In pregnancy:
Regardless of what you read in "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and "What to Expect the First Year," the baby will not be damaged beyond repair if you eat things made from white flour. And sugar...it's OK, too. Really.
Stretch marks don't really fade and they don't really go away. They're there forever. Accept them as a badge of honor. Plus, are you honestly going to be wearing a bikini anytime soon with that scar on your back? (Another story.)
Your weight will come off just fine. Don't stress about eating yet another shake. But after this pregnancy, honey, all bets are off, and you should have cottage cheese, not ice cream.
After the baby comes:
Don't leave the baby near the edge of the bed, because he'll become suddenly mobile and fall off, sending you to the doctor's office where you'll have to let the doctor fill out forms which say you really didn't drop him on purpose.
It's OK to call Nurseline three times the first week of his life. They won't laugh at you when you ask if it's normal that his heart rate is so high or whether or not it's bad that you can't wake him up to eat. Well, they might laugh at the waking him up call, but it will be a kind, gentle, reassuring laugh. Call the experts whenever you want if it makes you worry less.
Breastfeeding will be horrible for at least 5-7 weeks. Ignore people who tell you it's because your latch is wrong. It's because you have red hair and the whitest skin known to man. You lost that genetic lottery. (Do talk to a lactation specialist, though, just to be sure...a bad latch is a bad thing.) Eventually everything will work out great. Stay up on your pain meds until then.
Pacifiers? Yeah, another time to ignore "What to Expect the First Year." They will save your life.
Don't go back to work after three weeks. Just don't do it. Please. It will save you so much stress.
And in general:
Relax. You're all going to make it through.
Don't judge other people. You can try to judge based on how their parenting works (by their fruits ye shall know them), but a lot of the time, you'll be wrong anyway. Remember, all kids are different. Just because you swore you'd never have a picky eater doesn't mean that he won't come hardwired to eat only four things. Oh, and it's going to be YOUR second child who kicks, hits, and bites, so don't judge the other kids in nursery (or their parents).
Don't judge, and relax, but BE CONSISTENT!!!!!!!!!!! Set rules and follow through. Every time. (And then again, pick your battles. You can't win everything.)
Turn off the TV.
Except, you're going to have bad days. Some days will last an eternity, and you'll be sure you're doing everything wrong. This too shall pass. On these days, turn ON the TV and just plan to get through the day the best way you can.
Get enough sleep. Even if the house doesn't get clean, even if you don't make a hot dinner for three days. Get enough sleep. Everyone around you will thank you, and you'll thank yourself.
Find great, dear, amazing, supportive, non-judging friends.
Love your husband and take care of him. Let him know what you need, too. And remind him that eventually baby days end and you'll be normal again.
Don't worry about giving up some of your individuality, the things you do best. (This is controversial, I know.) It's OK for a while to let go of some things to make sure that you don't miss the important things. You'll have time to be that person again. (I PROMISE you will.) But if you find yourself sinking, don't forget who you are at the core. Play some music. Read your old journals. Remind yourself that you're a mother, but you're also who you were before you had a baby, only deeper, more tuned in to life's truths. Oh, and more tired.
That would be a good beginning to a conversation, I'm sure...too bad I had to muddle through without the help.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Fantasy vs. Reality. And Some Gratitude
How my day was supposed to go:
1. Wake up early and go for a 7-8 miler
2. Go home and say goodbye to David as he leaves for skiing with Jeff
3. Put on loud and happy music and be Super-Positive-Mom who encourages her kids to get their work done with Happiness and No Complaining!
4. Practice for a couple of hours
5. Go shopping for a new oven and find one for a screaming deal (suffice it to say, my oven element exploded due to the awesomeness of my chocolate chip cookies. My oven is about 50 years old. It also lacks two burners. As much as I do not WANT to buy a new oven, I'm afraid I need one.)
6. Organize another corner of the house and make another trip to DI
7. Watch my family play happily and remark how much we all love to be together
How my day went:
1. Stay up half the night with a baby with the stomach flu
2. Cut my run in half when I realize sweet baby has passed on the stomach flu
3. Put on loud and happy music and be Super-Screaming-Mom who encourages her kids to get their work done with Fear and Trembling!
4. Gather myself, apologize to sweet children, and give up on getting ALL the work done
5. Be surprised that David and Jeff come home after 1 1/2 hours because when they got to the resort, it was raining.
6. Shake my head in amazement as one by one, each of us (except Kate) gives in to the stomach flu
7. Sit down to be a good mom and do a puzzle with Kate when I realize the strange sound I've been ignoring is rushing water from an overflowing toilet upstairs pouring into the laundry room. All over the three loads of wash I'd just finished. And everywhere else
8. Work on a talk for sacrament meeting I was asked to give Thursday night
8. Go hide in bed
But I wouldn't be Super-Optimistic-Mom if I couldn't find some silver linings. So here they are (weak as they may be)...
1. I'm grateful that Ben pooped all over ME twice rather than anyone or anywhere else (ha ha)
2. I'm grateful that all of our towels were clean, dry, and in their place so that I could mop up all the water from the overflowing toilet
3. I'm grateful that David was able to give Ben a blessing in the middle of the night and that Ben responded by sleeping for a few hours. (I'm so grateful for the priesthood.)
4. I'm grateful that David earned the Amazing Dad award by taking Sophie on a Daddy-Daughter Date, then taking Josh to Home Depot twice to make something for Josh's science project, even with the stomach flu
5. I'm grateful that the talk I have to give in sacrament meeting tomorrow is on commitment to the gospel and to the home as a wife and mother...Because after a day like today, I am reminded that the good, the bad, and the ugly are all part of this journey. And I guess I'm committed...for better or worse.
1. Wake up early and go for a 7-8 miler
2. Go home and say goodbye to David as he leaves for skiing with Jeff
3. Put on loud and happy music and be Super-Positive-Mom who encourages her kids to get their work done with Happiness and No Complaining!
4. Practice for a couple of hours
5. Go shopping for a new oven and find one for a screaming deal (suffice it to say, my oven element exploded due to the awesomeness of my chocolate chip cookies. My oven is about 50 years old. It also lacks two burners. As much as I do not WANT to buy a new oven, I'm afraid I need one.)
6. Organize another corner of the house and make another trip to DI
7. Watch my family play happily and remark how much we all love to be together
How my day went:
1. Stay up half the night with a baby with the stomach flu
2. Cut my run in half when I realize sweet baby has passed on the stomach flu
3. Put on loud and happy music and be Super-Screaming-Mom who encourages her kids to get their work done with Fear and Trembling!
4. Gather myself, apologize to sweet children, and give up on getting ALL the work done
5. Be surprised that David and Jeff come home after 1 1/2 hours because when they got to the resort, it was raining.
6. Shake my head in amazement as one by one, each of us (except Kate) gives in to the stomach flu
7. Sit down to be a good mom and do a puzzle with Kate when I realize the strange sound I've been ignoring is rushing water from an overflowing toilet upstairs pouring into the laundry room. All over the three loads of wash I'd just finished. And everywhere else
8. Work on a talk for sacrament meeting I was asked to give Thursday night
8. Go hide in bed
But I wouldn't be Super-Optimistic-Mom if I couldn't find some silver linings. So here they are (weak as they may be)...
1. I'm grateful that Ben pooped all over ME twice rather than anyone or anywhere else (ha ha)
2. I'm grateful that all of our towels were clean, dry, and in their place so that I could mop up all the water from the overflowing toilet
3. I'm grateful that David was able to give Ben a blessing in the middle of the night and that Ben responded by sleeping for a few hours. (I'm so grateful for the priesthood.)
4. I'm grateful that David earned the Amazing Dad award by taking Sophie on a Daddy-Daughter Date, then taking Josh to Home Depot twice to make something for Josh's science project, even with the stomach flu
5. I'm grateful that the talk I have to give in sacrament meeting tomorrow is on commitment to the gospel and to the home as a wife and mother...Because after a day like today, I am reminded that the good, the bad, and the ugly are all part of this journey. And I guess I'm committed...for better or worse.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Just One of Those Days
Argh. I hate days like this. The kids are mostly great, the house is mostly organized, life is mostly lovely, and I want to throw things around and yell a lot. It all makes so much sense.
No wonder some men (never David, of course) complain that women are a tad hard to understand. I don't even get it myself. Thank goodness for good friends who can say, "Make grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner and don't expect your kids to get everything done. That way you won't yell as much." Brilliant, I say. Sheer brilliance.
So I'm off to make tomato soup and grilled cheese. And not yell so much. Wish us all luck.
No wonder some men (never David, of course) complain that women are a tad hard to understand. I don't even get it myself. Thank goodness for good friends who can say, "Make grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner and don't expect your kids to get everything done. That way you won't yell as much." Brilliant, I say. Sheer brilliance.
So I'm off to make tomato soup and grilled cheese. And not yell so much. Wish us all luck.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Adventures in Babysitting
David and I went to a family funeral in Provo today. Sophie and Ben are both fighting off colds/bronchitis, so I could hardly send them to a friend's house or ask someone to come over to catch some of their love, but I had to go to accompany Dave's sister. We've been leaving Josh with the littler munchkins more and more often, and usually everything goes smoothly. He offered to watch them, so we thought we'd risk it.
After the funeral I checked my phone. There were five voicemails.
#1 Sophie in a sobbing voice..."Mom, please please please come home RIGHT NOW. Why did you leave us with Josh?" crying...
#2 Sophie in a sad, subdued, weepy voice..."Mom...he's being so mean to me. He's so mean. Please come home."
#3 Sophie in a desperate voice..."Why can't you come home right now? Please please please come home."
#4 Sophie, again sobbing..."Mommy, where are you?" Mad, angry voice breaks in. Josh: "Sophie, hang up that phone RIGHT NOW. HANG IT UP NOW. HANG UP. HANG UP." Sophie: "No...I don't have to." Angry words back and forth, yelling and sobbing.
David and I, alternately cracking up and wondering if anyone is left alive, finally got to the last voicemail:
#5 Sophie, chipper and upbeat..."Mom, we've made up. Everything's OK! Love ya."
Hot and cold. Little angels.
After the funeral I checked my phone. There were five voicemails.
#1 Sophie in a sobbing voice..."Mom, please please please come home RIGHT NOW. Why did you leave us with Josh?" crying...
#2 Sophie in a sad, subdued, weepy voice..."Mom...he's being so mean to me. He's so mean. Please come home."
#3 Sophie in a desperate voice..."Why can't you come home right now? Please please please come home."
#4 Sophie, again sobbing..."Mommy, where are you?" Mad, angry voice breaks in. Josh: "Sophie, hang up that phone RIGHT NOW. HANG IT UP NOW. HANG UP. HANG UP." Sophie: "No...I don't have to." Angry words back and forth, yelling and sobbing.
David and I, alternately cracking up and wondering if anyone is left alive, finally got to the last voicemail:
#5 Sophie, chipper and upbeat..."Mom, we've made up. Everything's OK! Love ya."
Hot and cold. Little angels.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
More Parenting Advice
Postscript to my last post.
Teach your older children to:
1. Flush the toilet
If they forget to do that, at least:
2. Shut the lid
If they forget to do that, at least:
3. Close the bathroom door.
Otherwise, the baby may decide to help clean the toilet with the plunger, leaving another wonderful mess for me to clean up. On the same day.
Let's not mention the dog food spilled, the coloring on the kitchen table, and the lift-the-flap books which are now without flaps-to-lift.
Today.
I Love My Eighteen-Month-Old.
Teach your older children to:
1. Flush the toilet
If they forget to do that, at least:
2. Shut the lid
If they forget to do that, at least:
3. Close the bathroom door.
Otherwise, the baby may decide to help clean the toilet with the plunger, leaving another wonderful mess for me to clean up. On the same day.
Let's not mention the dog food spilled, the coloring on the kitchen table, and the lift-the-flap books which are now without flaps-to-lift.
Today.
I Love My Eighteen-Month-Old.
Birth Control on a Blog
If you're considering having a baby, just think about this.
Your baby might one day decide to play in his poop. And wipe it all over himself.
Did you know this was a possibility? I did not. I'd heard stories, of course. You hear stories when you're a mom. But to really see it? To smell it? To know that you are the one who gets to clean this up? When you picture motherhood, this is not one of the things you consider.
Sometimes, in the middle of motherhood, I think, "I got a masters degree for this? I learned how to interpret Bach, Mozart, and Prokofiev, and I'm spending my days cleaning up poop?"
Well, yes. In a nutshell, here it is...the poop will only last a few years. But these children will be dear to me always.
Oh, wait. This post turned sweet. And I just intended it as a warning.
So, consider yourself warned. And if it's too late, and you're already in the middle of the whole motherhood thing, just remember...
Put your babies in a onesie and pants at all times. Or you may be writing a post just like this one.
Your baby might one day decide to play in his poop. And wipe it all over himself.
Did you know this was a possibility? I did not. I'd heard stories, of course. You hear stories when you're a mom. But to really see it? To smell it? To know that you are the one who gets to clean this up? When you picture motherhood, this is not one of the things you consider.
Sometimes, in the middle of motherhood, I think, "I got a masters degree for this? I learned how to interpret Bach, Mozart, and Prokofiev, and I'm spending my days cleaning up poop?"
Well, yes. In a nutshell, here it is...the poop will only last a few years. But these children will be dear to me always.
Oh, wait. This post turned sweet. And I just intended it as a warning.
So, consider yourself warned. And if it's too late, and you're already in the middle of the whole motherhood thing, just remember...
Put your babies in a onesie and pants at all times. Or you may be writing a post just like this one.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Aargh.
You know what I hate? When I can't really tell if my kids are sick enough to stay home from school or not. And my regrets when I make the wrong decision. It's bad either way. Either they are too sick to go to school, so you lose if you send them, or they're not sick enough to stay home, but you're not sure at 8:00 am, and you keep them home, only to find out that they're just grumpy as sin and ready to make life miserable. They're apparently fine enough to play all day, but when you ask them to do their practicing, they act like you just asked them to climb Mt. Everest. "I'm SO SICK. MY WHOLE BODY ACHES. I just feel AWFUL."
Can you guess which way my day went?
Grump grump grump grump grump.
There. I feel better. Next time I'm sticking with the house rule: If you don't have a fever and you're not puking, you're going to school.
Can you guess which way my day went?
Grump grump grump grump grump.
There. I feel better. Next time I'm sticking with the house rule: If you don't have a fever and you're not puking, you're going to school.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Our Adventure. Or Elephants and Emergency Rooms
I had a bright idea yesterday. I thought it would be a fantastic idea to take Kate and Ben and anyone else I could rope into going with us to the Gateway to see the Circus Elephant Parade. It's always around noon on the day the circus starts, so this will be the last time Kate will not be in school at noon. (Sad, isn't it? Why do they have to grow up so quickly?)
I convinced Christina, Will & Ezra and Kate's playdates Eliza and Briana to join us. But first, we had to have some lunch.
So I fed all the darling little people (and Christina and me, too.) But uh-oh, because by the time we were done eating, we were in serious jeopardy of missing the parade. (I hate I-80 construction. It has fouled up my travel plans too many times.)
When we were driving past the Gateway in search of parking spaces, a friend called to let me know the elephants were passing her at that moment. We were stuck at a stoplight, and what do you know, the elephant parade turned in front of us. I opened the van door, shooed out the kids and told them to climb the ES Arena stairs so they could see better.
You must understand, this is a Typical Kerri Event. I have grand ideas, generally spur of the moment, and not always plausible. I think I can fit in more than I actually can. I rush to try to accomplish what I think is still, just maybe, if I'm lucky, possible. And way too often, I'm given moments of grace like this one. The kids got to see the elephants. I even took Ben out of the carseat and he sat in my lap, happily making elephant-like noises. We didn't have to fight any crowds to find a spot on the sidewalk. Kind of win win, in a lame way.
Briana's mom happened to be at the parade, too, and offered us all passes to the Discovery Gateway Children's Museum. Fun! We had a wonderful time. Except for the clowns terrifying one of our group. And of course, the unfortunate incident invoving Ben's chin and an exhibit that landed me at Primary Children's Medical Center for three hours.
And I'm not actually being sarcastic. We really had a wonderful time, even poor little wounded Ben. Can you tell he's going to get 8 stitches in a couple of hours in the following pictures? I bet you can't even tell which pictures were taken BEFORE he was shoved into the garden area and which were taken AFTER.
(Before...)
(And after...)
So it was a pretty good day. Except for having my baby sedated and stitched. But I must say, I am utterly grateful for the fantastic staff at PCMC. Every unfortunate time I've had to be there, I've been super-impressed with their kindness and professionalism. And every time I've had to be there, I've been grateful for my children's good health. We are very blessed.
I convinced Christina, Will & Ezra and Kate's playdates Eliza and Briana to join us. But first, we had to have some lunch.
So I fed all the darling little people (and Christina and me, too.) But uh-oh, because by the time we were done eating, we were in serious jeopardy of missing the parade. (I hate I-80 construction. It has fouled up my travel plans too many times.)
When we were driving past the Gateway in search of parking spaces, a friend called to let me know the elephants were passing her at that moment. We were stuck at a stoplight, and what do you know, the elephant parade turned in front of us. I opened the van door, shooed out the kids and told them to climb the ES Arena stairs so they could see better.
You must understand, this is a Typical Kerri Event. I have grand ideas, generally spur of the moment, and not always plausible. I think I can fit in more than I actually can. I rush to try to accomplish what I think is still, just maybe, if I'm lucky, possible. And way too often, I'm given moments of grace like this one. The kids got to see the elephants. I even took Ben out of the carseat and he sat in my lap, happily making elephant-like noises. We didn't have to fight any crowds to find a spot on the sidewalk. Kind of win win, in a lame way.
Briana's mom happened to be at the parade, too, and offered us all passes to the Discovery Gateway Children's Museum. Fun! We had a wonderful time. Except for the clowns terrifying one of our group. And of course, the unfortunate incident invoving Ben's chin and an exhibit that landed me at Primary Children's Medical Center for three hours.
And I'm not actually being sarcastic. We really had a wonderful time, even poor little wounded Ben. Can you tell he's going to get 8 stitches in a couple of hours in the following pictures? I bet you can't even tell which pictures were taken BEFORE he was shoved into the garden area and which were taken AFTER.
(Before...)
(And after...)
So it was a pretty good day. Except for having my baby sedated and stitched. But I must say, I am utterly grateful for the fantastic staff at PCMC. Every unfortunate time I've had to be there, I've been super-impressed with their kindness and professionalism. And every time I've had to be there, I've been grateful for my children's good health. We are very blessed.
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