Of Adjusting Grace

I tend to forget that my children are people.  Though they may not be up to the same level of thought processing as their elder counterparts, they sure do hold the capacity for the same quality and intensity of emotions.  The only difference is that we hold our tantrums on the inside - or, sometimes, we unleash them in a hurtful tirade of words which are so much more painful than the crying and kicking utilized by the younger generation.

This is what I forget to take into account.  Though we express them differently, her emotions are no less valid than my own. 

Sometimes, on those days when all my inhibitions are released and all my ugliness comes flowing out, I need a little extra grace.  A tender hug.  A reminding that the world is not all bad and, no matter how unpleasant I can be, I am still loved.

And the same is true for her.

Sometimes, what she really needs, rather than another command to eat her breakfast while she sits in her lion-shaped booster seat wailing for no understandable reason, is to just sit in the lap of a loving parent, snuggled under a Slanket watching "Larry and Bob," grasping an empty yogurt cup now filled with dry cereal, alternating between feeding herself and feeding her momma. 

Because some days she's just a rougher version of herself.  And on days like these, we all need a little extra grace.

Of Football Frenzy

We are die hard football fans in this house, as evidenced by the fact that the three adults spent about fifteen minutes this morning discussing and researching to determine exactly when the game was and on what channel.  Clearly, it's a high priority for us. 

Despite our indifference for the game, I did pull out of this unofficial national holiday an excuse to do a few things I've been looking for an excuse to do: try out a new cake recipe, use my beloved Pampered Chef batter bowl in a creative way and practice my decorating skills (with the Easy Accent Decorator, also from the Pampered Chef - if you're interested, I know a girl).  That's right, I funneled my lack of general sports interest* into a good cause and came out with a darn cute chocolate cake in the form of a football, laces, grass, and all.  Who says I'm not a fan?

Meanwhile, Emmett showed his manly colors today.  Just as the coin toss was about to occur, I set him on the floor (his favorite place, other than a lap, of course) to play with a few toys.  Did he eagerly grab for his light-up musical cube (a current hit)?  No.  He sat motionless, eyes glued to the screen.  He only looked away for a few seconds to glare at his Aunt Dia for making the comment that he was "going to be" a man's man.  Clearly, he's already there.  As proven by the fact that when the Packers took the field his arms went in the air (his aunt did a good job brain-washing he and his sister, who thought our discussion of the team meant she'd be getting crackers sometime soon, so I still say her vote was biased).

So, there, we participated, America.  Happy?

*For the sake of my pride, I would like to clarify: though the athletic arena overall generally fails to register as a blip on a my radar, I would like to make it known that I can watch a game and I have been known to be rather adamant about the team I choose at random (even if just for the colors or the fact that they're the underdogs - or both).  And I can follow a game enough to know that it's sad watching a Super Bowl (supposedly the best of the best) wherein the Steelers allow three turn-overs and miss a field goal (although acing the two-point conversion was nice) - and the Packers didn't bring their A-Game, either.  Just to be clear.

Of Needing a Break

I don't think I realized until just this week how much I actually do get out of the house in a seven-day period.  And more than that, how much time I spend passing my children off to other people.  Any time we're at church (at this point it's a minimum of three times a week) - they're in the nursery.  When I have a girls' night - they're with Philip.  When we have a date, they're with Aunt Dia.  For anywhere from one to three hours, multiple times a week, I am free to converse and interact with other adults.  Free from the whining, the inexplicable crying, the unintelligible babbling I am intended to understand but really just frustrates both listener and speaker at the inability for true communication.

The interesting aspect to this is that I never realize how much I depend on these mommy-breaks throughout the week for keeping my sanity and my peaceful attitude with regards to my children.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It is not until I am in a home all day every day for going on a week now with two adorable children who demand my undivided attention every waking moment of the day (and some that should be sleeping moments but for some reason aren't) that I finally begin to understand the need for rest.  A respite from insanity.

Thus, as I began the day, after a sleep-less night thanks to a son who apparently likes to talk in his sleep (a fact I never notice until we're sleeping in the same room for nights on end) and an attempt to find a solution to this "problem" which only leads to many waking hours for all involved, making breakfast for a daughter who seems to cry at every question or command these days, I found myself with the desire to shed a few tears as well.  I told myself when Philip got up, I'd ask him to take point today in the parenting department, because I just couldn't handle it anymore.

But I didn't ask him. 

Because the moment he came out of the bedroom, he whisked my son from the floor and demanded I go rest.  Two hours later, I opened my eyes to he and a happy baby sitting next to me, asking what the aforementioned happy baby needed to eat.  And then my husband fed my son cereal while I padded around in p.j.'s for the fifth straight day (not the same ones every day, mind you).  My daughter actually ate the peanut butter sandwich her daddy made her for lunch (after refusing mine all week).  After lunch, Philip prepared the squirmy worm (the elder, as the younger was snuggling in for a nap) for an afternoon of outdoor fun in the snow.  We made a snow family, complete with Easter egg eyes and Craisin mouths.  And I had fun.  Because I wasn't stressed.

And then, then he dug my sister-in-law's jeep out of our driveway so she and I could actually escape for a blessed hour and a half before the next wave of "wintery mix" hits the greater Shawnee area. 

And I breathed.

And that's why I love my family.  Because they love me and they need me.  But they can survive without me.

And sometimes I'm just allowed to take a break from being mommy.  But not for too long.  Because, honestly, who doesn't want those tiny arms wrapped around them (or the snow version of them, which is almost as adorable) as a precious voice declares, "I loll you, Mommy."?  This girl sure does.

Of Cabin Fever

In case you don't see my Facebook page on a regular basis, here's the latest.  I'm trapped.  In my own home.

We live on a street.  It's just that.  A street.  Not a neighborhood, not a subdivision.  A street.  Thirty houses that all look the same, separated from the rest of the world, or at least Shawnee.

And, as such, it would appear we do not warrant plowing by officials of the aforementioned city.  Thus, while the rest of the world* shuffles along streets piled high on either side with snow shoved kindly aside for them by their friendly neighborhood snow-plow, I find myself, along with my family, and all others on this blessed road without the likes of four-wheel drive, confined to walking distance (which, for an un-motivated girl such as myself, will take me just about to the end of the street) - and that through twelve-ish inches of snow and ice.

The funny thing is - the only reason this bothers me is because our grocery store is having some very decent sales this week and I hate to miss good deals.  [Taking a deep breath.]


Thus, when I boil it all down and truly analyze my motives I find myself less frustrated and more grateful.


Grateful that I have nowhere I have to be.  I have no travel plans being thwarted by this onslaught of winter weather.  No major life events I'll be missing out on.  And all the company I could want right here in my little haven of warmth (except when my husband, whose boss does, indeed, have four-wheel drive, is at work - at which point I'm missing a big part of the company I wish I had).


Meanwhile I understand that right now, this beautiful landscape of white, is but a fleeting moment.  One I enjoy not often enough here in Oklahoma (which is much further south than I ever gave it credit for).  And come next year, I'll be dreaming of watching the fluffy white flakes falling from the heavens.  So I rejoice.  I rejoice in the glorious beauty of creation - and in the fact that it's forcing me to slow down and enjoy this moment.



*I do recognize that it's highly unlikely we are the only location isolated by the likes of the insensitivities of the Shawnee snow-plow operation, but as I have limited experience with the extent of the shunning, I'm working on assumptions here - so keep that in mind as you attend my poorly-planned pity party. 

Of Moments

Best moment of the day:
Snuggling with BOTH of my kids while watching first a Tyler Perry movie and later "Go, Diego, Go!"  Seeing Emmett laying with his head in his sister's lap, looking at her in awe while she cradles her brother's skull and gives him a loving and protective smile: priceless.  Being able to hug them both while all of this occurs: a feeling I wouldn't trade for the world.

Second best moment of the day (a runner-up so far behind the gold medal winner it might as well still be at the starting line): winning my fourth (out of four) game of Settlers in the last week.  I believe that would make me THE Settler of Catan for Snowmageddon Twenty Eleven.

Of Bath-Time Buddies, Volume Two

Despite the glances of pity or the incredulous inquiries of, "How do you do it with two?" I've received from friends who are either great with their second child (and we have many who fit into this category) or are too scared to try, I'll say this here and now (it's the same answer I give in person), it's absolutely the best.  The transportation or even getting-out-the-door issues involved with having two children aged two and under are entirely outweighed by the countless awe-inducing moments of watching my babies delight in one another.

Tonight was another such moment.

We have finally reached the short window of childhood wherein our kids get to have a real-life bath-time buddy.  That's right, Emmett has graduated from the company of his own reflection and now has the pleasure of sitting in his Bumbo, kicking his sister's knee and chewing on any rubber duckies or bath books she offers.  Splashing each other is a favorite (which, to be honest, is what brought Emmett to this point - I'd rather he splash his bathing sister rather than give me a premature shower from the confines of his infant tub - but that's just my preference).

Thus, to those who fear having more than one or even having two closer together, just know that right now my kids are best friends, and I'll take that over arriving at church on-time on a consistent basis any day.

Of Applause

Well, there's the obvious.  It's snowed, recently, in case you weren't aware.  There are drifts up to my hips out our door.  And, yes, at the urging of my sister-in-law, we did go out for just a little bit.  And, while Micaiah enjoyed throwing the snow at Mom and Dad (which meant she used her immobile, mittened hands to grasp a few flakes of snow and then throw her arms in the air to toss them in our general direction), she only did so from the safety of the front porch.  Anytime she crossed the threshold, the wind was too much for her and caused panic and mayhem.  So she stuck to the tiny brick-walled porch.  And she was very happy about it.

But while having a day to relax, where going somewhere isn't an option, and being "forced" to enjoy time on the couch playing Mouse Trap with a two-year-old has been wonderful, I'm not positive that was the highlight of my day.

What really made me smile this morning was watching my son clap for the first time.  He was so excited to sit in his aunt's lap while watching Diego (Dora's cousin, in case you were unaware of today's toddler pop culture).  And the thrill pushed him over the edge so that his hands simply had to come together in joy.  Absolutely  adorable.  Filing this, along with his latest fad of the past couple of weeks of waving his arms in the air while rotating his hands in every direction because he loves the functionality of his wrists, under "Cutest Actions my Son has Learned to Date".