Something Worth Something.

Posted on by

0

I made it through Spring Break. Wow. I guess it was just a preview of what this summer will be like. A lot. 

A lot of good, a lot of bad, a lot of tears, a lot of laughter, A LOT OF CHAOS, and a lot of life. As hard as this is and as much as I struggle … and believe me, I struggle … I came away from that time exhausted and sunburned but feeling that good kind of tired that I feel when I know I’ve done hard, worthwhile work.

Maverick is 5 years and 7 months old and he now knows how to make his bed, take out the kitchen garbage, put a new bag in the can, set the table, and make his own sandwiches. He can also sweep and steam mop the kitchen with some help. He learned how to climb trees, which caterpillars are the stinging kind, and we’re working on tying his shoes. He can wash his own hair, takes a shower on his own and is pretty much all of the sudden a big boy.

Brothers sharing an afternoon snack.

Maverick picked a bouquet for me every day.

Climbing.

These are the things I had in mind when I signed up to be a stay-at-home mom. It brings me joy to sit outside on a blanket and watch my kids discover the world right there in their front yard. I love watching my younger kids watch their big brother. I love fostering independence in a safe environment.

We don’t have much money, so everything we do is simple — but it brings me so much happiness to see the magic that unfolds when you put a child outside and just let them do their thing. So while I may be nervous/terrified about the three months I’ll have this summer with my children, who will be 5, 2, and 1 years old … I think I can handle it? 

I was totally cringing with fright as I typed that sentence. I probably just jinxed myself for the next 7 years. Yikes. 

Anyway, clearly it’s not going to be easy, but I hope we can pull through it in one piece. And while I am certain the house and my eyebrows will be a hot mess, I hope I will feel kind of like I do now. Like I did something worth something. Because I did. I really, really did.

Watching big brother arduously drag the garbage can up to the house.

Bittersweet.

Posted on by

6

At 10 months and 2 days old, the baby finally crawled.

Raising little girls

It was so bittersweet. I was standing barefoot on a blanket watching her, and I thought I would burst with pride. Of my three children, she took the longest to start crawling, but she put the most work into learning. For almost 3 months she has been working on figuring it out, spending her nap times practicing in addition to countless frustrated hours on the floor.

It’s hard to watch your children try and fail and try again. Today I watched Maverick try to climb a tree. He insisted he needed help, but I refused. It was a low tree, and I was close by. He doesn’t know that I was climbing trees like a monkey when I was just a little older than him. I would take the canoe out alone and paddle around the lake at 8 years old. I haven’t told him much about what I was like as a little girl because I’m afraid he will think he can just jump into the nearest canoe and take off with it. He can’t swim yet … so I’ll hold off on my stories.

Looking back, it freaks me out to think about the things that my parents let me do. My mother must have been worried sick while I was off adventuring through the woods, but we had a big German Shepherd who always tagged along and — get this — nothing bad happened.

As I grew older, I found that a large majority of girls my age were fearful and lacked self-confidence because they had never been allowed or encouraged to be independent and/or strong.

Children won’t know what they are capable of if they are never allowed to DO ANYTHING, especially girls, who tend to have confidence issues to begin with. Sometimes by thinking you are protecting them, you’re actually stripping them of the one thing that is vital to their quality of life and happiness: their inner strength.

I understand now how hard it is to let go and hope nothing bad happens as you loosen your grip to allow your child more freedoms. It’s terrifying. I waffle between wanting to lock my children away from the world, and encouraging them to be as involved in it as possible so they can eventually, somehow, change it.

So … I say all of that to say, it’s a big moment for me and for my kid when he climbs his first tree. And, more notably, when his little sister finally crawls to the edge of the blanket to eat the grass she’s been eyeing for months.

As I swept her up and moved her away, pulling wads of clover from her tight grasp, I whispered “I AM SO PROUD OF YOU. YOU JUST KEEP GOING.”

And I know that she will.

Kate.

Posted on by

0

This weekend my dear friend and soul sister Kate came to visit. 

One of the major disadvantages of attending an out-of-state university (and high school as well, but that’s another story) is that you meet these amazing people and form tight bonds with them, and then several years later you are scattered all over the country like sparkly confetti. I mean, it’s pretty much our duty as interesting people to jazz up America, and we can’t really do that if we all cluster together. So I get it. But still — it doesn’t feel right.

Kate and I have remained friends through medical school (her), three childbirths (me), marriage (both), and life. I only have a few people who get me to the degree that she gets me. When she came to my house and sat on my floor and played with my children, rummaged around in my kitchen, seasoned the asparagus I had no clue what to do with, and whipped up fresh guacamole like she’d been living just across town this entire time … it made me want to beg her not to go back to Atlanta and continue to jazz up the world of Sports Medicine. 

JUST STAY HERE AND HELP ME RE-LEARN HOW TO COOK VEGETABLES.

She washed and dried the dishes and when I told her to stop she shushed me and said she really wishes she could do it more often. So I shut up, sat down, and let her.

Soul sisters take care of each other. I never thought I would be the mom who got so wrapped up in caring for everyone else that she forgot herself, but I AM. I’m at the service and feet of everyone else all the time, because that is what happens when you are a mother and a wife. But my friends still know and remember me, the person. 

And I love them so much for that.

A lifetime ago.

 

Dan and Jo.

Posted on by

4

Today was awfully busy. 

I went to Zumba … unpacked some more stuff at the house … hung a few pictures … locked my baby in the van with my cell phone and car keys … and then lost the baby. Yes, the very same one.

Those of you who have never met me probably wonder what is up. Well, I don’t know what’s up except that I have a lot of kids. Believe me, I find myself wondering what the hell is going on here many, many times per day. How do people with more than three kids do it? I guess if we had one more, I’d just give it to Maverick and tell him to take ownership. 

People several generations ago used to have lots of kids and I think they have probably blocked out how hard it was, because that’s really the only way to go about it, until they see a strung-out woman at the fruit stand with a gaggle of children. Then … they remember. I know this because they like to stop and tell me about it, which is actually nice because then I know it is possible to do what I’m doing and live through it.

Today was totally typical until I lost track of time and realized I was running late to pick Maverick up from school. I got everything together and cranked up the van because it was hot outside. I put Pepper in her car seat and started the process of buckling her in. My backpack containing everything under the sun was in my way so I threw it on the front seat, and when I was done I shut her door and took Asher by the hand to walk him to his side of the van.

Except that. 

There is always an “except that.” 

Except that I couldn’t open the van, because he had done something to the locks when I wasn’t paying attention, and the van was now locked with the baby inside. I couldn’t get back in my house and I couldn’t call for help. Naturally, today was the day that I thought to myself, “It doesn’t matter what I look like, I won’t get out of the car anyway.” I don’t even want to go into what I was wearing. Just know that it was bad.

I took Asher by the hand and forced myself to remain calm as we went across the street to start knocking on doors. There was no answer at the first two we tried. The third house was the one right next door, and they were home and more than happy to help us.

Dan and Jo look to be in their 60’s and they have five grown children, the youngest of whom is my age. His name is Paul. He was there working when we arrived, and after introducing himself he immediately ran next door with a coat hanger to try to unlock the van. “Mrs. Jo” took Asher outside to play with her grandchildren, ages 5 and 2.

“Mr. Dan” had the unique experience of getting to watch me freak the freak out as I tried to hold myself together and at the same time look up phone numbers in the phone book and use an actual telephone that was connected to a wall. It’s been a very long time since I have done either of those things. I was frazzled and upset, knowing that Maverick was now sitting at school wondering where I was just made it worse. I couldn’t get through to my husband at work, and MY BABY WAS LOCKED IN THE CAR.

Mr. Dan was unbelievably kind and thank goodness I had someone with sense to talk me through what to do. When I get in these situations, I do a good job of remaining calm but I mentally blank out. I can’t think, I can’t perform simple tasks. All I could think about was Pepper locked in that van and how I couldn’t get to her. But then I had to take that thought and put it away because I have two other kids and one of them needed to be picked up from school, and if I totally lost my shit these nice people Mr. Dan and Mrs. Jo would have no clue where to go to get him.

And so … I rallied.

Since the car was running with the a/c on, I didn’t call 911. I called Pop-A-Lock and they said they would be there within 15 minutes. I finally got through to my husband and he said he would come right home. Asher was happy playing in their backyard. Paul, still working with the coat hanger, said he would stay with the baby until my husband or Pop-A-Lock arrived. Mr. Dan offered one of his vehicles to me so I could go pick up my oldest, and then changed his mind as he watched me continue to struggle to operate the cordless phone. He said he would be happy to drive me instead. I agreed that was wise.

We picked up Maverick from school.

On our way back into our neighborhood, we saw the Pop-A-Lock car leaving. My husband’s car was in the driveway, so Maverick and I got out and I told Mr. Dan I would be right over to retrieve Asher. As he backed out of the driveway, Husband came running out of our house with a stricken look on his face. “WHERE’S THE BABY?!” he asked.

To which I replied, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHERE’S THE BABY?!”

I have no recollection of what I did or said after that. As he tore through the house, I choked down irrational fears and forced myself to think and believe that she was safe with the neighbors. And that is when I heard her crying. She was with Paul, who said that Pop-A-Lock unlocked the van at no charge since there was a child trapped inside. Since neither of us were back yet, he just carried her back next door with him.

Pepper was really upset and it took her a long time to calm down — she required that I hold her for nearly an hour after that, until finally she started acting normal again.

Holy. Crap.

So here’s what I’m taking away from this. I think that crazy things are going to happen regularly because I am outnumbered. I think that my control freak tendencies and overly-ordered way of doing things can’t even stop the madness and it’s high time I accept it. 

Most of all, I think that it’s an answer to my mother’s daily prayers for God’s protection over us that Dan and Jo live right next door. They told me today, “nothing surprises us.”

Well … we’ll see about that. 
 

April Fool’s.

Posted on by

0

At precisely 2:00 this afternoon, I suddenly remembered how I woke up this morning.

I was in a deep sleep when something cold hit my shoulder. I remember being totally confused because I thought it was the middle of the night when it was, in fact, 6:30 a.m. Maverick was standing there talking and mashing something cold against my shoulder. I yelled at him and later had to apologize. I didn’t think about these events again until many hours later when it all came rushing back.

Yesterday was April 1. Maverick loves April Fool’s Day and somehow this year he got the idea of taking his brother’s underwear and putting it in the freezer. Except … Asher is two and doesn’t wear actual underwear yet. So Maverick, who I like to think inherited his moxie from me, made do with a Pull-Up diaper. 

I remember tucking him into bed last night and he was so excited, talking about how the Pull-Up was going to freeze and he was going to check on it (and I quote) “First thing in the morning!! If you see me in the freezer in the morning it’s because I’m checking on the Pull-Up, it’s going to be SO FUNNY MOMMY, Asher is going to put on a FROZEN PULL-UP!”

I am generally always in an exhausted state. His excitement over this or that is always met with a smile and a tired reply that does not match his level of emotion. So last night, I think I patted him and said good night and didn’t think about it again, even when said Pull-Up was put on my shoulder. He was trying to wake me up to tell me that it just got cold, it didn’t actually freeze, and he needed to do it again with one that was wet. He had a eureka moment where he realized that in order for something to freeze, it had to be wet. 

I am very proud of him for reaching that conclusion in spite of me, the mom, who was stumbling around yelling and asking WHAT IS ON MY SHOULDER?! because I didn’t remember the previous night’s conversation.

I feel sorry for children because what is important to them isn’t even on our radar screen a lot of the time. Good for them, for pressing on in spite of the dull adults in their lives. Good for Maverick and his moxie even though it drives me crazy sometimes, for pressing on with his April Fool’s endeavor.

The boy’s got spunk.


So anyway. When I picked him up from school, we talked about it. I told him how silly it was that it took me almost the entire day to sort out what had happened that morning, and I explained that I am just so tired at night that I sleep really hard and if I get startled awake it kind of scares me. Also, please don’t ever put anything wet or cold on me again when I’m in bed. 

He was very understanding and I was hoping I’d be able to somehow atone for what happened, so it pleased me when he asked if we could freeze some of his Daddy’s underwear tonight.

Me: Daddy’s underwear is probably a little big for the freezer, don’t you think?

Maverick: OH. Yeah, it is. Hmmm …

Me: What if we freeze a pair of yours instead?!

Maverick: YEAH!!!!!!!!!!

***


And just like that, I made a little boy’s day.

 

I Passed!

Posted on by

0

I wish I had the time to document all of my small victories, but I don’t, and right now Asher is possibly digging in my bathroom drawers and so I will keep this short. 

I just used a tape measure and pounded two nails into what I believe was a stud in order to hang this, all with a toddler under my feet, literally. I’m not a super handy person and I’m quite terrible at getting anything even, which is why this is a big deal.


Also, trying to do anything in my house while the kids are awake is like some kind of test. My dad came over the other night to hang a 50-pound mirror in our living room and the entire time there were kids running and screaming and saying GRANDPA! GRANDPA! GRANDPA! GRANDPA! while he stood precariously on top of a ladder.

I told him that as long as he thinks of it as a test, like when the CIA or FBI put someone in a dangerous position and then make it 10 times worse by adding a crocodile to the situation. That’s my life — welcome.

Anyway, today I passed a test. And now it’s hanging perfectly on my wall.

Just Do What You Need To Do.

Posted on by

4

Do we look like normal, functional people? 

Photo credit: Leigh Anne Wilbanks

Like when I see a picture of myself, or my kids, we look totally NOT like we just made a scene in our local Rite Aid. 

After the past few weeks I’ve had, I really don’t think I’ll judge another mom ever again. We’re all just trying to do the best we can, I’ve decided. Usually when I tell stories of public embarrassment it’s because of something one of my kids did or said. Today, I was the one who lost my crap. I was the one who cried in front of total strangers and I was the one who left a trail of items all the way out the door of the drugstore, snatching them from children’s hands and literally tossing them to the floor as we made our way out.

I’d like to forget today ever happened, because wow, but I’m writing about it so I never forget. When things are somewhat manageable, and I don’t have to struggle quite as much to keep it together, I forget what it’s like. This. The impossible task of motherhood when it’s so hard that I’d quit if I could but I can’t because you don’t get to do that when you’re a mother. Even if you’re a horrible mother and you think that you can quit or leave, you can’t. Not really. YOU ARE ALWAYS STILL A MOTHER.

So on days like today, when I feel like I have entirely too many kids and I can’t possibly meet their needs, let alone my own, and my scalp starts itching from stress and I don’t eat real meals for sometimes five days or more in a row … and then I have to run an errand … I am humbled. The people who saw me today totally judged me and I don’t blame them. I would have too. But I hope that the experience stays with me for awhile so I can offer some grace to another struggling mom. 

The experience of parenting three kids is so intense, and adding in a move or illness just sends us spiraling into Crazy Town. I completely stop cooking, we’re never clothed properly, we don’t have food in the house — things unravel quickly. I find myself shouting to my husband, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO FEED THEM!” as I hand a kid an entire box of cereal to eat with his bare hands. Some women say they go days without showering or washing their hair, but I’m too vain for that. I’ll shower and forgo other important things, like bill-paying and family nutrition.

Which reminds me — one of the things I threw on the floor on our way out was vitamins. 

The next time I’m in a store and I see a woman laden with child(ren) really, truly, struggling not to cry or scream or freaking tear into the biggest bag of peanut M&M’s she can find and eat them right there in the aisle and throw the paper on the floor because she is just so DONE … I’m going to tell her I’ve been there and she should just do whatever she needs to do. That’s my new mantra: Just Do What You Need To Do.

No judgement here. I’ll pick up your wrappers. You eat that candy, girl. Better to do that than to eat your young.

The Nosefrieda.

Posted on by

2

Asher is sick with what appears to be a sinus infection. 

After several very long days spent with him clinging to my leg while the baby screamed at us in anger because she can’t figure out how to crawl and she is pissed off about it, I decided it that today was the day to try out the Nosefrieda. I reached this decision out of desperation and an inability to think clearly.

I’d never heard of the Nosefrieda until I had my third child and my friend Lila mailed it to me. The whole idea of sucking snot out of my child’s nose with a tube that attaches to my mouth makes me shudder. Some people swear by it though, so I thought — what the hell. I’ve done worse, right?

So, I attempted to suck snot out of my son’s nose with a tube THAT ATTACHED TO MY MOUTH, and it was every bit as terrible as I imagined it would be. Every. Bit. I won’t be doing that again ever. He is still snotty and I can never un-see or un-hear what happened today, so I consider this a Very Big Fail.

Did I do it wrong? Has anyone else used this thing more than once? 

Where The Hell Is My Maidservant?!

Posted on by

0

Excuse me, I do NOT hold my own beverages … 

Where the hell is my maidservant?!


I’m here. The maidservant is here. I’ve not yet recovered from the harrowing experience of moving with small children … but I’m here, I once again have the internet, and currently no one is screaming.

We live in a much larger house now, which isn’t saying a lot because we used to live in a shoebox. But this house is bigger and quirky with a lot of odd spaces where my children can hide and I truly can’t find them. I have lost one or two of them in here several times already. I consider this a blessing, I don’t question it, and I don’t spend a ton of time looking for them honestly. Their desire to hide quietly from me is a precious gift. So thank you. I’ll take it.

I’m too busy holding Pepper’s drinks to do much else, anyway.