Close the door

I don't know why they don't hear me. I have to sound like a lunatic. Today was one of those days when I had no choice but to bring all four kids with me to the mall ... not to play, not to eat, but to follow me around as I mumbled insults to myself under my breath as I dress shopped.

My frustration was already at its peak after wasting an hour bribing my kids to behave at the pediatrician only to find out my terribly "off" infant is perfectly healthy.

So we arrive at the mall, "incentives" in tow, and of course have to head straight to the bathroom. All 3 "big" kids run into one of the two family stalls as I lay Jadyn down to change her diaper. I can see said room and look over to find all three of my kids standing in the stall, pants dropped, casually talking to one another about their new Happy Meal toys (see, incentive).

"Addie, close the door honey." They all turn, genitals exposed, staring blankly. "Addie, Caleb, one of you needs to close the door." I hear voices approaching the Family Bathroom door. "Caleb! Turn around and close the door!" "Mom, I got stinky bottom!" Avery shouts.

Door cracks. "Close the door." ... "Close. the. door!" ... "Closethedoor, closethedoor, closetheDOOR!!!"

Addie blinks. "Oh, okay." and closes the door. I turn to catch the expression on the newly entered mom's face. She raises an eyebrow at me as if she's silently scolding me for raising my voice at my children. I stifle the urge to assure that I was kind and patient the first six times. After entering our "stall" to help wash hands we all trudge out to the main lobby that exits to the mall. Caleb, walking in front of me, stops short just as we're approaching the door. "Caleb, honey, can you please open the door?" He turns and stairs at the stroller wheel. "Caleb, please open the door. Open. The door."
And here we go again.

Where's Caleb??

So today was a strange one.

Caleb showed us that he is indeed a climber; first displaying his upper body strength at the park as he palmed a swing beam hand over hand until he cleared the other side.

Then he stumped us all as he decided it was the perfect time to visit his new hide-out: on TOP of the open garage door. Think about it, ... , get a visual, and then i'll explain.
...
So he climbs ON TOP of our van, then hoists himself onto the open garage door which is now suspended at the top of our garage. NOT, by the way, made to hold a human of any size, though we were thankful he weighs in these days at a scrappy 42 lbs.

Ey yeh yeh ...

And then, as if that weren't enough to shut my heart down, this afternoon I'm up on their swingset tower staining the wood. "Hey Mom!" I hear from across the yard. Don't see him, don't see him, ... "I'm up here!" he shouts. Holy Pine Tree, he IS "up there"!! No lie, at least 20 feet high into a not-so-healthy giant pine tree!!! I'm attaching pictures of this sickly beast. Praise God for his angels of protection for my boy! I am still cringing at the sight of him in both of those terrible places and counting our blessings that both situations ended innocently enough.

Diet Starts Monday!

7 months ~ for 7 months I've been saying "I'll work out tomorrow", "this is my last fast-food trip", "no more snacking at midnight". And now, 7 months later, Im something sfot I'd like to cozy up with. Super fluff. Weighing in at 10 lbs more than I weighed when I left the hospital. Not okay.

I have two weeks before I need to put on a dress and pretend that I'm a grown up. So I'm telling myself that if I put this on the blog I'd have all of this accountability. Really, I mean it (I think). Should you see me before May 28th with a donut in my hand or a carbonated beverage in my mouth feel free to slap my hand, heimlich me, or use whatever means necessary to save my waistline.

I am making one last exception because tonight there is one remaining container of homemade tomatillo sauce mocking me along with its friend Wholly Guacamole. Tonight we dance.

Tomorrow, ... watch out. This isn't going to be pretty. I will apologize now for my short-temper, frazzled display, and outbursts of rage.

In two weeks this will all be worth it.

Little Monkeys

Avery was designed to climb. Not sure why, though I have a suspicion that it has something to do with helping me stay vigilant on my watchpost of motherhood. Avery is the child who, at the tender age of 18 months, had the fine motor capacity to zip her pjs, pick her nails and hold a pen with perfect form. I think it's this dexterity that allows her to also have the ability to scale inanimate objects to their highest potential. Thankfully, she is not a jumper (see below). Instead, once she reaches this height, she simply grabs the most dangerous item visible to begin her next adventure. This week the highlights have been: pushing kitchen chair to counter, climbing counter, grabbing closed, boxed, and sealed package of multivitamins, grabbing butcher knife on the way down, and sitting in the corner, cross-legged and innocent looking, stabbing open the box to eat her favorite forbidden treat of chewable gummy vitamins. Also on the itenerary: scaling black rack in kitchen to reach crayons, toilet to sink to reach toothpaste which she then painted the bathroom rug with, and my favorite (thankfully thwarted!) plan of kitchen chair, to kitchen counter, to stool she placed ON TOP of kitchen counter to open cabinet shelf (here's where I stopped her) to reach the birthday cake placed on top of the kitchen cabinets in our pseudo-storage.
Each of these adventures, when interupted, are met with the most adorable smirk and shrug as she saunters off to her next adventure.

Avery was meant to climb as Caleb was designed to jump. I was convinced that Caleb, as a toddler, was going to break a bone before the age of three. At 5 and a half he has still yet to do so, though he has a roadmap of scars with chipped tooth landmarks to tell of his tales of adventure. He jumps, fearlessly, off of anything and everything taller than he, as if it's sole purpose was to be the platform of his next feat.
Though we have outfitted their new swingset with all of the fun gadgets most kids would be enamored with, Caleb's mission is to climb to the highest point and jump. It's a wonder he hasn't broken any bones but, seeing as how he's only made of skin and bones God must have blessed him with a super-solid set.

And So It Begins

Though I don't think Matt has started with any "Corny Dad Jokes" the day officially came last week where I became a MOM. You know, the one with all the sayings that we rolled our eyes at as kids and no one knows where they came from.

Somehow I managed to hit them all in the same week. Each time I knew it was coming and fought so hard to find my way around each of them, but, in the end, the words were tried and true:

"No, we don't use our hands for hitting" "Son, we're headed to your activity but we do not have to go if you can't be nice" ... "I mean it, I'll turn this car around!"

"You know what, honey? (I thought if I started sweeter I could avoid the rest, but it came anyway) If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Doesn't matter how nicely you try to say it. Even in your best "teaching voice" it comes out the same.

And my favorite (though, again, I really tried to get around it). It started with: (Use your imagination for which child), "I know that didn't really hurt you that badly." "No, you need to settle down." "We don't scream like that because pizza crust fell on your leg." "Seriously, you're going to tell me that caused you this severe amount of pain?" (see it escalating?? trying. to. fight. back.) ... "This is not worth crying about!" (Uh oh. Here it comes:) "I'll give you something to cry about." And I didn’t even mean that as a threat of bodily harm like the phrase implied when we were little. I really just meant that she didn’t have to have any pizza if it was causing her this much physical pain. And THAT would be something worth crying about.
I can only imagine what’s going to come next.

Yesterday

I've been stuck. Completely stuck on this concept of time. A few of you have heard me try to make sense of all of this a time or two before, but I really can't shake it. As I approach 30 I'm completely in awe as to how quickly time has passed. Now, not to take away from you poor mothers whose kids are actually out of the house and in college already without you (!!!!), but how in the world is Caleb 5?!? If I do my math right (and it was my strong suit in school!) he was born 4 days ago. Three weeks ago I was 12 and my best friend "broke up" with me. About a week and a half ago Matt came to move me out of my college apartment. And, if time continues to move at the same speed it has been, this means that in about 5 weeks I'm going to be 60!! I've always been one to be sentimental. I've known all along that my kids grow up and out of infancy way too fast. Those early days feel like forever but the weeks fly by. I hold onto their clothes as if maybe, magically, one day their newborn or toddler selves will show up at the door just waiting to be put back into those adorable outfits that I've been saving for them. And books? Oh goodness. I'm afraid we will have bookshelves in our "adult house" one day stocked full with Thomas the Tank Engine and Curious George, Pinkalicious and Guess How Much I Love You. Because, if there's a memory in my head of me reading the book to any of my kids, there's no way it'll ever get thrown away.
All too often I find myself getting caught up in the struggles of life with four pre-schoolers: the phases they seem to go through at least in pairs, the inability for anyone to tie their own shoe, the incessant noises being made and directed at me though not one of them is actually saying a single actual word...
Anyone who knows me hopefully knows that I wouldn't trade it for the world - including a clean house! - and that's what I'm focusing on trying to remember on a daily basis. I know we've all heard it as young moms: "You can clean your house later", "The dishes can wait", "The laundry will still be there tomorrow". I believe in all of this. I never set out to be the mom who had a spotless house at the sake of my children, however I did get lost in the "in between". I struggle daily with finding the balance between simply maintaining my house and spending time with my kids. Any and all who have stepped inside my home know I'm not one to value squeaky clean windows and floors (although I did treat myself to hiring someone to powerwash my windows - awesome!). But I do know that we need clean laundry and too many dirty dishes is kinda gross.
But, as this strange time warp has showed me, it's often not until looking back that I realize how quickly time has passed. So I'm trying to remind myself daily that, if I'm not careful, that game I promised Addison I'd play with her "tomorrow" will still be sitting there, unplayed, 6 months from now in just the simplest blink of an eye.
So, in these next thirty years, before it disappears on me again, I'm choosing to be a "yes" mom. Goodness knows, no matter how hard I try, the laundry is still there, there are always new dishes to be done, and someone's bed is always getting un-made. So what's the harm in just letting them go? As a "yes" mom I can at least feel good about what I have gotten done: one more smile on someone's face. An extra minute to hold someone's hand as we run through the backyard from whoever is "it" at that moment. And the extra shot my kids have at enjoying each other when they see Mom enjoying their sibling.

Cleaning House

I've realized today that "at least I have a clean house".

Let me back up. The household wars have been coming to a head over here as I have been feeling the urge (need, necessity) to purge. This house gets smaller everyday and, though I do acknowledge not worrying about the size of my house is on my list of "things that won't matter ten years from now", let's face it: there's a lot of us here.
So I'm taking advantage of an upcoming Mom's Sale at church to clear out a corner in Matt's makeshift laundry room/storage room/gym for him to lunge to his heart's content. I'm feeling good about sifting and sorting. Now, mind you, I'm not about to go crazy and actually get rid of my children's actual clothes that make my memories of their iddy biddy days complete. No, no my friends. Those fifteen totes are tucked away ever so neatly for my more nostalgic days.
Now I'm simply giving myself permission to part with the clothes that have cycled through time and again and yet, somehow, have never gotten worn.
So ... as I'm doing that I've also decided to tackle the kids' rooms. If the clothes are being weeded through, so can the toys that have started taking up residence. Now, to go along with the theme of the Kitchen Sink Lady, what better way to attempt to keep a clean room clean than to REALLY clean it?? So, I shampoo the kids' carpets. Out with the old milk stains in the carpet, in with the ... well, the slightly faded old milk stains in the carpet. But it's doing its trick. The kids' rooms have remained clean for over 72 hours now and I'm feeling good.
As of today, four days after my start, I have two (and a half) clean bedrooms (ours is in progress...) and an extra corner in the basement. .....

And six people's dirty laundry that has been neglected and is overflowing every hamper in this home.

How does this always seem to happen? I know there are moms out there that don't mark it as a record breaking week on their calendar when bedrooms remain clean for more than 4 hours at a time and who can manage to keep their house tidy, clothes in appropriate drawers, sharpie markers out of the hands of two year olds and keep their hampers within a lid closing limit ... but I sure can't. At least not at the same time.

So today, as I grasp at straws at just what I am accomplishing through all of this work I realize, at least I have a clean house. I definitely don't have a tidy house. Like, ever. But the joy of living in this shoe box is that it doesn't take long to scrub. So, next time you're over (specifically if it's in the next week), kick that shoe into the corner, brush that book off of the couch and relax knowing that your child can eat that fruit snack he found on the girls' bedroom floor because at least the rugs have been shampooed.