Not Domestic Magic

        Perspective makes all the difference some days.  He walked up to me with white and red paint all around his mouth and smeared up to his right ear. I looked at my little shirtless Batman with the question forming on the tip of my tongue, when I looked down at his hands and saw the small containers of paint. “Mom, can you help me get the green and pink open?”

         This is one of those times where having the right perspective is critical. To say I was going to have a mess to clean up was an understatement. He is covered in paint, I have no idea where his shirt is, but I’m sure it is also covered in paint, and what surface he was painting was still a mystery. But before I could say anything, I caught the look in his eyes. A mixture of excitement, determination, pride, and independence were all in the sea of blue.   He is more than any mess. 

         The paint is washable and so is he. With a smile, I took the paint from him. As I was opening his two other colors, he proudly told me how the red and white did not need to be opened because he opened them with his teeth.

         Isn’t that a fun blog title? I mean really, I feel like I should follow it up with some kind of witty comment about how a baby and laundry represent the defining aspects of my life at this point. It’s not nearly as glamorous as all that. In truth, what it represents is every mother’s struggle.

         Here, let me explain. Thor was not willing to be put down all day, for anything. So, the options were listen to him scream or carry him around. I’ve been told as a mother I should not let my babies cry while we do something so trivial as laundry, or preparing dinner (or really, making a clean spot on the counter so we can prepare dinner). We should spend that time with them, making memories, laughing, and posting cute selfies of us for Instagram. Laundry can wait.

        Okay, here’s the thing, I agree with all that (even the selfie part, I’ll explain later), but I believe the same people who would tell me to make memories would also judge me behind my back for sending my kids to school with dirty pants and no socks. So where is the balance?   How do I decide what is more important: being with them or taking care of them?  

          I’ve struggled with this balance since day one as a mother, and honestly, I have no idea if I’m keeping an even balance or not. I know that wasn’t helpful, but it’s the truth, I really don’t.  This is another one of those areas that I feel like lots of mothers try to fake. They try to look like all of there domestic duties are easily fulfilled and they have extravagant amounts of time to dedicate to legos and tea parties.   

        What I do, and what I would encourage you to do, is ignore everyone else. It doesn’t matter what their house looks like, or what they do with their kids. God did not put you in that home, or make you the mother of those kids. He gave you your own kids to nurture and care for, and sometimes the time laying on the floor surrounded by plastic dinosaurs and baby dolls is the best thing for your kids. Other times it’s letting them play alone while you clean a bathroom. The main thing is remembering to allow yourself the freedom to sit and play with your kids, because they really do grow up fast (and they don’t care if their pants are dirty).

When I worked at the University I was gone a lot of nights and weekends.  To stay connected as a couple and keep some romance in our lives, my Man and I would text when we were apart.

As the season’s of life change, so does the definition of romance.

For the record she is not, nor has ever been, upset by spiders except this one night.

I heard the squabble start.    

         It started innocently enough, two of my sons were playing, and a disagreement came up. This is a normal part of my day, and I would dare to say it is a normal part of most days for all mothers. I usually pause for a moment to see if it will escalate to the point I should step in or if they will work it out. We had been out the night before having dinner at a friends and both children involved were a little overtired, so I was guessing an intervention would be needed.  

         My Man and I are struggling with how to teach our children about conflict. Conflict is part of life, it doesn’t matter if we like it or not, it just is. With children, conflict can be anything from dealing with a bully at school to fighting over who will use the toothpaste first at home. As adults, the type of conflict changes. Most of us don’t fight over toothpaste anymore, but conflict is still there. So, teaching them to deal with it is very important to us. I worry that our world today does not teach healthy conflict resolution. We seem to teach fast resolution, in hopes of  making the awkward situation over as quickly as possible. I have seen adults and children alike choose to be silent when hurt or offended, just to avoid conflict.   

         One thing we have been focused on lately when a conflict comes up, is to not be shy about telling your side. We’ve had a little trouble with one of our sons and a classmate of his. Don’t misunderstand, there is fault on both little boys, but our boy seems to get the bulk of the consequences because he will not defend his side of the story.  We have been encouraging him that in life sometimes you have to defend yourself, and sometimes others, but it is important to do with respect and kindness.  Like much of parenting, we have no idea if any of what we are saying is understood, practiced, and even heard. 

         So, as I stood in my kitchen listening to the escalation, trying to judge the best time to step in, the older child screeches with shock and pain. About the time he rounded the corner to seek both comfort and restitution from me, I heard his younger brother shout:  

              “Mom!  I have! The right! To defend myself!!!”

Not exactly what I meant…… Parenting is hard. 

Gather around children, I have a story to tell you.  

    My Man is out of town this week, so it was just the kids and I at dinner. As we ate our grilled cheese and tomato soup, we all made a plan for the rest of the night. I love a good plan. The plan included ice cream and extra play time if they could get their chores done quickly and without whining.

     Now, before I get to my story, there is some background information that will be helpful to you. It is Fall here, the weather is starting to turn cool, the leaves are starting to change, and people are putting pumpkin in their coffee (I really don’t understand why, but it seems to make them happy). We live out of town a ways, in the woods, so one other sign that season change is upon us is when the mice try to move into the house. This is normal, but still annoying. The other bit of crucial information about this story is that in the last month we have become a pet free household. Not by our own choosing, but sometimes cats get old and sick, and sometimes dogs zig when they should zag while chasing cars.  I’ve mentioned before that our home has been filled with different kinds of grief and loss over the last year. I have seen the death of our furry friends truly highlight the different ways my kids are dealing with their grief. It hurts my heart to watch my children miss yet another thing gone from their lives. On a very practical note, apparently my fat little dog and fluffy cat were also keeping a large amount of the mice problem in my home at bay.

Continue reading “Of Mice and Boys” →

     I do. I feed them All. The. Time.

     In fact, there are days that I feel I do nothing but prepare, serve, and clean up from feeding them. I make them well-balanced meals; hitting all of the different food groups (except fish, cause that stuff is nasty). Quality snacks are prevalent in our home, and occasionally, some good dessert food. Also, most days they have two breakfasts, I feed them breakfast at home and then they like to have a second breakfast at school before they head off to class. Then, they are still hungry when lunch comes around in a few short hours.    Continue reading “I swear I feed them.” →