More Important Things Than Punctuality

My goal today:  Make it to Vacation Bible School by 6:00pm. 

I live 25 minutes from church. 

I left the house at 4:25pm.

Why?  Because I am 10 minutes late everywhere I go, and it's never for any one reason....and certainly not predictable ones.  There's always such a conglomerate of things that occur, that I don't even bother trying to explain anymore.  I just accept the pleasant surprise that people display when or if I do happen to be on time, and I just shrug and roll with it when I'm late.

So what happened today?  Was 1 hour and 35 minutes enough time to get 25 minutes down the road? 

1. We left early so we could stop at the library (4 blocks from home).  We had to inspect all 154 board books and 87 children's DVDs before making a selection...even though I offered several reminders that we would be back later in the week and could check out every book in the whole building by the end of the summer, so JUST PICK ONE.

2. While checking out their books and DVDs, I realize that the 2-year-old has pooped in her diaper.  We return home to change her.

3. We get back in the car and start to pull out of the driveway.  The 4-year-old announces that she has to pee.  We go back in the house.

4. We make it all the way out of the driveway and a whole mile from the house, when I realize that I have left my cell phone on the charger.  We go back and get it.

5.  This time we make it an entire 10 miles from home when the 4-year-old announces that she has to pee again.  There are no bathrooms.  We have to get off of the interstate and do a roadside number.  We get back onto the interstate.

6.  Now we have to stop at the dance school to register for summer classes.  The owner suggests that I not pay for the 2-year-old's classes until we see how she does the first week.  Since she is running in circles around the studio, screaming, and slamming doors, I accepted this as solid advise.

7. As we're leaving the dance studio, I realize that the 2-year-old has pooped in her diaper...again.  I change her in the car.

8. The 4-year-old has to pee...again. 

9. We finally make it to church.  It is 6:10pm.

WHAT would be my excuse for being late?  Which thing do I bother picking?  The fact that we got in out of the car 256 times, and each time I was sternly reminded that there was to be absolutely no amount of assistance from myself with their climbing in OR out of the vehicle, CERTAINLY didn't speed things up.  Note: It is a slow and painful agony to stand their grinding your teeth while waiting for this.  I have to chant things about "encouraging independence" in my head the whole time.

I used to stress about being late.  For the sake of my mental health, I now just embrace it.  You can't rush little kids.  I mean, you CAN...but the only one stressed out is YOU.  And is THAT  how I want my kids to remember me?  That I was yelling "Hurry up!" all of the time?  If we have to be somewhere and I start getting everyone ready 3 hours beforehand....and we're STILL late...C'est la vie!  They won't be little forever, and I refuse to waste the time that I do have with them by constantly being frazzled.  THEY are the most important thing in my life...and if I'm WITH them...then what's there to stress about?

So hug your babies tight, make time to stop and examine caterpillars or count rocks...and just avoid making appointments unless absolutely necessary.

"I am always late on principle, my principle being that punctuality is the thief of time." - Oscar Wilde

♥M

IKEA for Dummies

Last night, I was entirely too weak of mind, body, and spirit to write a blog post.  I had to concentrate on my recovery before I could put it into words...

Yesterday, I took my children to IKEA.

If you are unfamiliar with this magical wonderland that is a home store, then please, PLEASE, take the time to go there.  The whole place is a maze of furniture showrooms, a home decor marketplace, and has just enough of life's practical items (light bulbs, band-aids, umbrellas, chocolate...) stuck in random places to make it absolutely necessary to explore the entire store each time you go...lest you miss any magical bargain that you cannot possibly be expected to continue living without, but didn't even know you needed.  There is also a cafeteria on the second floor, should you need nourishment in order to continue shopping.  Do you hear what I am telling you?  A store that provides a refueling station for power shoppers = an A+ establishment in my book. (OR an oasis for when you get so lost that you can't carry on looking for a way out until you get your blood-sugar back up...whichever, really.)   You will love it - unless you absolutely hate it.

My hubs WANTED to hate it.  You see, he is a custom woodworker; and in previous years I was not allowed to even consider making a "fake furniture" purchase from such a wicked place.  I changed his mind by making him go there with me - holding a list of things I wanted him to build for me.  I added up how much it would cost me to buy the "fake" furniture.  He added up how much it would cost him to make me the "real" furniture (materials plus time away from actual paying jobs... apparently my undying love does not translate to cash).

We left the store with several flat packs, and he didn't even complain about putting any of it together with fine print, Swedish directions.

Back to yesterday:

Plan A was for me and the 4-year-old to go to IKEA, retrieve a "big girl bed" for the 2-year-old, and have Nana (my mother-in-law) keep little sister while we were gone.  We scrapped Plan A for Plan B - all four of us going together.  "It will be fun," we said.

I should have taken heed of the many warnings that morning - the day would NOT go according to any type of plan.

1. The hubs decided that I was to drive his truck.

2. The hubs decided that his truck needed a dozen different fluids AND air in the tires in order to be considered suitable for me to drive.

3. The hubs decided to drive his truck to work, then have me pick it up on the way, so he could be especially sure that it was indeed performing no less than was his standard for my trip that day...whatever that was.

4. I went into the girls' room to wake them up and get them ready.  I discovered that the 2-year-old had taken her diaper off during the night, and the entire bed was soaked with pee.

5. I gave both kids a bath...while they screamed (and I think cursed) about the injustice of being transferred from the bed to the bathtub.  ME waking THEM in an unpleasant manner?  The nerve.

6. I washed the girls' pajamas, sheets, blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and mattress cover.  So much for getting all the laundry done the day before (The Life Cycle of Laundry).

Fast forward: we overcame the odds, we're in the car, we're going to IKEA.  It should have taken an hour and a half.  It took 3+ hours.

1. There was traffic.

2. My GPS kindly offered to reroute us around the traffic. "Yes, please!" It took us many interesting places....and then attempted to put us BACK into the traffic.

3. I caught sight of the still-backed-up traffic, said "Oh, Heeelllll no," whipped the truck around, and got the heck out of there.  It was way less "007" and way more "You can't make me go back there!" than I probably realized.  I can't really be sure, however, because I was extremely distracted by my mother-in-law screaming, "We're going to die!" and  "I see the light!"

4. The kids slept ZERO on the way there...and we arrived promptly at what WOULD have been naptime.

And yet we entered the store anyway.  I thought I was prepared with coloring supplies, snacks, toys, drinks... They got bored with the snacks, wanted different drinks, hated the toys, and were disgusted with my coloring supplies.  They DID want to run, jump, climb, argue, cry, make insane demands ("Buy me this office chair!")...and expected ice cream on the way out.

I think I mostly kept my cool.  By that I mean I didn't beat anyone, I didn't yell, I ignored most of the little stuff, and we all came out alive.  I'm not entirely sure why I thought taking my 2-year-old that likes to scale tall dressers, balance on one foot on the seat of exercise bikes, and dance on kitchen counters to a huge furniture showroom store was anything less than asking for it, so really, I blame myself.

The ride home was another 3+ hours. More traffic, more wonky GPS directions, more crying, more bickering, more insane demands ("I want to blow bubbles!") and lots of rain to boot.  It wasn't ALL terrible though.  I got to hang out with my mother-in-law (although she probably needs counseling after the day we had combined with 6+ hours of my driving).  I got to listen to my babies sing their ABC's and count their 123's in the backseat (even if my helpful suggestions of including certain omitted numbers or letters was rejected - "I am counting MY numbers, it is not your business.")  We talked and laughed and played a silly game of how many different funny voices we could say "I love you" in (I think we were getting delirious at that point). 

Getting home was still a sweet relief, however.  Well, until I realized that the 4-year old had fallen asleep and had an accident in her car seat, the 2-year-old had a fever....and I had a headache.

More baths, more laundry, and then sweet, glorious bedtime.

God made Moscato for days like this.  Amen.

♥M

Sucker for Stalling

I wish I could claim to be a lot tougher about bedtime shenanigans.  I'm just such a sucker for every stall...despite knowing them ALL for what they are, I fall for them. Every one of them.

It's the empathy side of my personality.  I can't cut it off.  Not even when I know that I'm being had.  I am notoriously gullible when it comes to practical jokes and hoaxes.  I am the kind of person that would end up on the news for being scammed out of their life savings.

These are the top scams I fall for at bedtime:

 

"I'm hungry." 

What kind of parent sends their child to bed hungry?!  This is a guaranteed way to add an extra 15 minutes to the bedtime routine.  If my kids make this plea, I immediately conjure images of the Haitian children from my mission trips - wide eyes and hungry faces - and I make haste to the fridge to scour for bedtime snacks...even though we just ate dinner an hour ago.

 

"I'm thirsty."

Have you ever been thirsty?!  It's awful!  How can one sleep when one is parched?!  This is a ruse that gets me multiple times a night - including midnight wake-up calls and wee-hours of the morning distress signals.  I get it, man.  I wake up thirsty too.  Thus, I fall for it every time.

 

"My lips are chapped."

We all know this sucks. You cannot sleep if your lips hurt real bad.

 

 

 

"My sister ____________."

This blank can be filled in with SO many things.  "...bit me."  "...kicked me."  "...pulled my hair."  "...stole my pillow."  "...is hogging the covers."  "...touched my stuffed animal."  "...looked at me."  The list is endless.  My patience, unfortunately is not.  After 5-6 of these type of complaints, I tend to lose my cool and say things like, "If anyone screams again, I will give you something to scream about!"  I feel like that is an excusable reaction on my part.
 

 

"I'm hot."

Well, who can fall asleep when they are hot?!  I fall prey to wardrobe changes, exchanges in bed covers, and sips of cold water when these dramatics come to surface.  Again I say, I AM A SUCKER.

 

 

"I'm itchy."

Ok, so itchiness is a serious dilemma.  If you have an itch, it is mind-obsessively overwhelming.  Plus, they both have eczema, so I am easily convinced that a rub-down with oatmeal-based lotion is immediately necessary....kind of...probably...probably not.

 

 



"I lost my stuffed animal/favorite blanket/specific pillow/random object that I just decided I needed tonight to go to sleep."

Neither of you have a favorite and/or necessary bedtime item since kicking the "binky habit."  Whatever you are looking for - it's under the covers.  Go to sleep.

 

 

 



"I need a tissue."

Prove it.  Right now.  Give me a test-snort, and if I witness signs of snot, then you have proven you need a tissue and may get up.  Oh my God, there's snot everywhere.  That's disgusting, go get a tissue.  I don't guess it would do me any good to point out that YOU CRIED when I tried to get you to blow your nose an hour ago.

 

 

 

"I have to go to the bathroom."

Well, what are you supposed to say to that?  "Pee in your bed."  NO.  Valid pass to get out bed, granted.  Even if I am convinced that you held it until now.

 

 

"One more kiss/hug."

This is an advanced mind-ninja move, if I've ever experienced one.  I'm pretty sure that the proper response cannot possibly be: "No, I'm a monster and I will not kiss or hug you anymore tonight!" Therefore, I go in there and pass out kisses and hugs like the SUCKER that I am.  Ugh.

 

This is why "bedtime" at our house remains between 7:30pm and 8:00pm.  If we START at that hour then there may be actual sleep happening by 9:00pm.  At least until 3:00am, when they both just come get in my bed, and kick the hubs in the face until he gives up and heads to the couch. 

♥M

Jumping the Fence

Tonight's blog post is a bit of a plea for feedback.  I'm preparing for my new journey staying at home next year... and my decision to "jump the fence."  Instead of dropping my kids off every morning, I thought - "Why not let people drop their kids off here?"  It's the perfect middle ground, really.  Next year is Jace's last year before starting Kindergarten, so I had planned on "playing school" and getting her ready.  Why not make it the real deal and teach other kids too? 

The hubs is on board (Woohoo!) and has graciously allowed me to delegate many things onto his to-do list.  The most exciting of all - turning our backyard into a preschool-sized playground.  I'm way more excited about that that he is.  Probably because he has to build it. 

In just the few months since I started sharing all of this, I've already had people shake their heads and call me crazy.  "Why would you want EXTRA kids running around?!"  .....What?!  Why wouldn't I?!  That's my job now, crazy!  I take care of and teach 20 students while juggling the county, state, and federal requirements every day!  What the heck kind of work is half a dozen to me!  I won't be doing anything different than I would be with just my kids...I'll just be doing more of it.  Plus, I happen to like kids.  So that helps.

This is the part I would like feedback on:  I sat and typed up a list of questions that I have ever asked any babysitter I've interviewed...and a few that I WISHED I had asked later.  I thought I could share that list with you and get some feedback on what you might add, etc.  Here's my list:

1. What made you decide to start taking care of other people's children?
2. What age children are you keeping?
3. What are your qualifications/experience?
4. What are your drop-off and pick-up times?
5. How much do you charge?
6. Do I still have to pay for a full week if my child leaves early/arrives late/misses a day?
7. What do you provide and what do I have to send?
8. What other adults will my child be exposed to?
9. How do you handle discipline?
10. What if YOUR kids are sick?
11. What if YOU are sick?
12. What if you have a doctor's appointment?
13. Are there any pets in your home?
14. What if my child gets hurt?
15. How will I know about my child's day (what they ate, how nap was, etc.)?


See anything missing?  What pet peeve have you had to deal with when looking for childcare?  I appreciate all feedback! :)

♥M

Friday Night Lite

Friday nights are not what they used to be. 

I used to think I was having fun, before I had kids; but I just didn't know any better.  Now I know what REAL fun is.  Real fun is coloring a picture together (or twelve), playing Barbies, building blanket forts, and having tea parties that turn into tickle fights. 

I still dress up on Friday nights, only in plastic jeweled tiaras and Hello Kitty necklaces now.  I still go out, but it's in an imaginary carriage... to an imaginary ball... in my living room.  (Way better parking than at the club or bar, by the way.)

I still dance on Friday nights, but now it's to the Elmo Potty Song and the Disney Jr. Soundtrack.  And I can do it in my socks, instead of heels.  Winning.

Eating hot dogs and mac-n-cheese on a blanket in the living room floor beats any meal in a fancy restaurant. (That's their "thing" right now...eating in the floor. I learned that if I throw down a blanket and call it a "picnic," they will eat almost ANYTHING I cook, including "green stuff." I draw the line at spaghetti though. Spaghetti is NOT a picnic food...despite their arguments in an attempt to build a case for it.)

Sometimes, when we're saying bedtime prayers ("Dear God, Tank you ever-ting and ever-body.  Pease let Sissy do not kick me tonight. Amen") or when they put their little hands on my cheeks and kiss me goodnight ("I love you, Mommy!" "Wuv ew, mama!"), I feel like my heart will burst.  I try to remember what things were like before they existed, and it's all a haze of meaningless, skewed priorities. 

Friday nights are not what they used to be... They are much, much better.

♥M

May I Have Your Attention, Please?

I was going to wait until Spring to be all official about "announcing" anything, but the Spirit has moved me to do it now...

I'm totally kidding!  I live in a small town, so most people that I know personally (and probably many that I don't), already know that I'm not returning to my job as a classroom teacher next school year.

Why?

Well, I could say it's because I'm tired of teaching....but I'm not.  I love teaching.

I could say it's because of the the insane amount of paperwork and "documentation," and the increasingly unrealistic expectations made of my profession....but I suppose a lot of jobs are like that.

I could say it's because I can't handle all of the politics and drama....but I do.  I handle it daily; and have done so for several years now.

Maybe it's because of all the *ahem* "enthusiastic" parents out there?  I mean, I HAVE been cursed, threatened, harrassed, bullied, and slandered.  Nope.  I'm good at my job, so I say "bring it."

Or could it be that I'm tired of being a punching bag for administration?  Nah - I've been through enough crap to have earned a black belt in the art of defending oneself against psychological warfare...so you'll have to practice your mental "mind-ninja" tactics on someone else.

Ok...so WHY?

BECAUSE... I decided that dealing with all of the beforementioned things is just not worth leaving my two girls at the babysitter every day. 

I just can't help but to feel like I'm giving up the blessing that is time with MY children in order to face a daily battle as an army of one in the good fight that is making a difference for my students.  It's discouraging to spend your days sacrificing the bulk of your time away from your own children, trying to "make a difference," just to be told on a regular basis that all of the caring, compassion, and help that you give other people's kids every day is not enough and never will be. 

I have just plain grown weary of being told to acheive miracles...then having every rug pulled out from under me, every ladder rung I must climb sawed through, and having to do it all with a blindfold on.

This was NOT a decision made lightly, or quickly, but what it ultimately came down to was this:
I have two passions - teaching and making a difference.  Next year I'll be doing both of them....at home.

♥M

For the Love of Snow Days

There are so many reasons to LOVE "snow days"...and all the snow grinches out there try to ruin them.  Sorry though - y'all can't ruin a snow day for a teacher.  You know how exciting snow days were when you were in school?  Yeah, doesn't even come close.  You know that commercial where the kids start cheering and fist pumping when they see their school on the list of closings?  They need one that shows the teachers popping champagne bottles and throwing lesson plans in the air. (Just kidding...we would never throw our lesson plans in the air. We work entirely too hard on them for such callousness.)

These are the things I wouldn't have gotten to experience without MY much-appreciated snow days:

1. Morning snuggles in the bed with my baby girls.
2. Spending 30 minutes dressing the kids in snow gear...then playing outside for less than 15 minutes (their gloves got wet and THAT, as it turns out, is a crisis).
3. Walking into the living room and finding Daire on the couch, chillin' in a pair of leopard print pants, zebra print sunglasses...and no shirt.
4. Taking afternoon naps with the kids. ("Mommy, sleep with us!" Uh, OK!)
5. Hearing Jace, from the next room, answering Mickey Mouse on T.V.
Mickey: "Ahaha! Are these circles?"
Jace: "Heeell no! Those are triangles."
(I sincerely apologize for my bad parenting, but I was unable to confront her at the time. I wasn't confident in my ability to keep a straight face. I have "conversation about appropriate language" penciled into tomorrow's agenda, I swear.)
 6. Being able to stay up late and read "one more chapter" (i.e. 5 more chapters) in my books without feeling TOO guilty about it.
7. Having chocolate chip pancake picnics in the living room floor.
8. Not being expected to leave the house...at all. (But totally could...if we wanted to.)
9. Letting the girls eat popcorn and watch movies past their bedtime (9pm is like, midnight for them)...and pretending that it's for any other reason than getting them to sleep late.
10. And best of all, hearing the 500+ comments about how lucky I am to be a teacher,  and that people want to trade jobs so they can have snow days like I do... No problem! Let's do that and you just let me know when you want to trade back. (I especially love this comment coming from people who complain about being around their OWN kids for a flippin' snow day.)

So don't be a snow grinch!  Drive slow if you have to go out. Take extra gloves so you don't have to cry if yours get wet. Let your kids enjoy their day off without being made to feel like huge burdens. ("Gee whiz, I either have to be around you or get a sitter so I can work. The inhumanity! Arggh!!")  Whatever you do, don't complain to a teacher, though. We won't be able to hear you over our whooping and champagne bottle popping anyway.

♥M

What Does the 3-Year-Old Say?

 

I sat down with my 3-year-old today and asked her some questions, just to see what she would say.  It was illuminating to say the least.  The most enjoyable thing about the whole process was how much she basked in my undivided attention, making me realize that I really need to take the time and add some effort into having REAL conversations with her...beyond just asking her how her day went.

*********************

Can we play a game where I ask you questions and write down what you say?  It's called "doing an interview."
Ok, Mommy.  Like a writing game?

Exactly.  Can you tell me what makes you happy?
Tigers.

Really.  What about them?
Because the mama tigers have baby tigers and they are sooooo cute.  And I can feed them.

You aren't scared that they would bite you?
No!  The mama tiger would just tell the baby tiger "No biting!"

I'll be sure to keep an eye on you at the zoo...  What about things that make you sad?
I cry when my sister takes stuff from me.

Yes, I know, loudly.  Why do you think she does that?
Because SHE is sad that I have something and she doesn't.

That's very insightful.  And also why Mommy buys two of everything.  You have a birthday coming up soon!  What do you think will be different about being 4 years old?
Ummmm...maybe I will sing on a stage in front of people.  Hey, Daire's not going to be 4.  Just me.

Yes, you will always be 2 years older than her.  What else can 4 -year-olds do that 3-year-olds can't?
Eat cookies a lot, probably.  And have parties.

Maybe we should watch less Disney channel.
I have to go potty.

*Potty Break*

So who do you think is the coolest person in the whole world?
You, Mommy!

Good answer.  What makes me so cool?
You just know lots of people.

Like who?
Uncle Josh.

So I'm cool because I know Uncle Josh?
Yup.

Interesting.  What do you want to be when you grow up?
A grown up.

Naturally.  What kind of job do you want to have?
Homework, like you.  And to go to school every day, like you.

So you want to be a teacher?
Yes, I want to teach big kids at school.

We'll talk more about that life choice later.  Do you want to get married when you grow up?
Yup, to my Daddy.

But I'm already married to Daddy.
I know that.  You can just go marry someone else though.  I will miss you, but you'll just have to find another person.

You seem to have put an alarming amount of thought into kicking me out one day.  Moving on...can you tell me where God lives?
At home.

Where's that?
Probably in like, a really old, old, old school.

I thought he lived in Heaven?
That's what I said.

Right.  How do you get there?
You can just drive your car and stuff.

I thought you got to Heaven by asking Jesus to live in your heart?
I know that already.

Ok, so how does Jesus get in your heart?
He just knows people.

We obviously need to start getting to church in time for Sunday School.  Here's a hard one - Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
With chickens in my ears.

WHAT?!
I don't know?!

Too heavy of a question?
Yeah, because I don't even know what you are talking about.  I don't know people like Jesus does!

Let's take a nap.  You're delirious.
Just stop talking to me.