Wordless Wednesday: How Can You Say No To This Face?!?!

Mommy Guilt

I read an awesome article the other day about Mommy Wars.

And it really got me thinking about the debate that has raged on in this country -- stay at home mom versus working mom...and the forgotten few, like me, the work at home mom. And I think about how everybody gets so heated one way or another about it, and starts shouting and yelling over which choice is right and which choice is wrong and what is the best way to raise children and what is the right way to raise children and I just have to say....

Everybody needs to shut the hell up.

Because here's the thing -- The question: how to raise the world's children? It's not my decision to make. What is my decision to make is how to raise my children. And that goes for everyone else -- it's your decision how to raise your children and NO ONE ELSE'S BUSINESS.

Think about it -- how would you feel if people told you the right way to pay your bills, load the dishwasher, or mow your lawn? I bet you'd be a little peeved, right? So why do we (as a society) think that we can tell families how to raise their children and expect parents to fall over and be so thankful that we stuck our noses in their business?

And it makes my blood boil when I hear women ripping each other apart over motherhood -- women need to realize that we need to be united on parenting because, sweet Jesus, it's hard enough.

No one way to parent is right or wrong... it comes down to this:

If your child is clothed, fed, and housed, loved, nourished (body, mind, and soul), happy and cheerful (most of the time), and innocent, you are doing a bang up job.

Does it matter how you get your child to this state? Nope.

Regardless of my feelings on this, my Mommy guilt (which sounds a lot like Laura Schlessinger in my mind), still makes herself heard: Why did you get your MA to stay home? I bet other SAHM don't yell as much as you do. This place is a pigsty. Why is your son naked -- again? Did your daughter just drop the f-bomb? Well done, Mom of the Year. Get off your computer -- you can work at 2 in the morning when everyone else is asleep. What? You are going to bed at 11 pm instead of doing the dishes? Well, all right, if that is what you think is best...

I have a way to handle the Mommy Guilt voice when she rears her ugly head (at least twenty times a day)... I imagine myself picking up a mallet and smashing her to bits like in a Road Runner Wiley E Coyote cartoon. And then I feel better. But I don't know how to make her go away all together.

Here's the example that I want to set for my kids -- I want them to see that their mother is human. I want them to know that she loves them and would do anything for them. But that she sometimes loses her patience and her temper. That she is not afraid to apologize. That she gives the best hugs. That she can work and be there for them. That she knows when to say "That's it, I need a break!" That she struggles with the decisions that she makes but hopes that she is making the right ones for them. That they are some of the most important people in her life.

The problem is, Glennon Melton is right -- I'm not the only one setting the example. I'm a big part of it, sure, but my kiddos are smart -- they know (or will realize) that there are different ways to be a mom. And I hope to God that they don't think one way is better than another.

Boyo-isms

Trying to use the potty the other day, Boyo looked up at me confused. "Momma, it's not raining out my penis!" he whined.
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My son throws "actually" around now -- before every sentence, I get an "Atully."

"Atully, Momma, I want candy. Please."

"Atully, Momma, I eat no dinner."

"Atully, Momma, NO."

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The other day, after I lost it and yelled at my son to "GET IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW IF HE KNEW WHAT WAS GOOD FOR HIM!", he looked up at me and said, "Okay all right all right, Momma! You no use beast voice! You ask nice!"
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"Mommy, can I have an W2D2 birthday cake?"
"Kiddo, I think that is outside of Mommy's skill set."
"Can I have a yo-yo one then?"
"Buddy, why are we talking about this? Your birthday is 10 months away."
"Atully, Momma, it's tommowow."
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"Nonononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono......."

...don't forget to breathe...

Chronos and Kairos

Last Thursday, the kiddos and I decided to take it easy. I had spent first part of the week in an actual classroom and the kiddos had been shuffled hither and yon as I arranged day care for them.

But at about 11 am, Boyo started getting antsy. So I figured I would take them to the pathetic park in the middle of our neighborhood to get them outside but still take it easy.

They decided they wanted to ride their tractors. Fine.

Three houses down the street, they changed their minds. They wanted to ride their tricycles.

Mildly irritated, I turned the parade around to get their tricycles.

Ten minutes later, and five houses away from home, they decided we had to go back to get their scooters.

Extremely irriated, I once again turned everyone around to go home and swap out rides.

At that moment, my neighbor, who was leaving her house, called out, "I wish my kids were young again."

Yeah, I call bulls#$% on that one.

But it reminded me of an article I had just read about how some mother's don't carpe diem.

There is a parenting sub-culture out there -- parents who enjoy their kids all the time. Who relish every minute with their little rug rat. And it pisses me off.

Why? Because it makes me feel like the worst mother on the planet. It makes me feel rotten that I don't enjoy every moment, that there are some days where I am walking out the door as my husband walks in because if I don't, I'm going to lose my ever lovin' mind. The fact that I don't "Carpe Diem" makes me feel guilty and lower than slug slime.

Which is why Glennon Melton's argument really spoke to me. Yes, some days are hard. And yes, some days have more chronos time than I would like (read the article, people. I linked to it above). I can't "Carpe Diem." I can't focus on my kids every minute, because then I don't focus on me at all. And to be a good mother -- not perfect, that's impossible -- but a good mother, I need to focus on me sometimes. And on my husband. And our marriage. And work - if for no other reason than to keep my brain sharp.

Not only that, how are you supposed to "carpe diem" when your son is shooting a clone trooper gun at everything that moves, your daughter is whining that she wants Fruit Loops, the baby is screaming her head off, the dog is barking at the wind, your husband is texting to see what is for dinner, and your boss is calling? All at the same time. If you can sieze the moment in that situation, you are a better person than I am. (Or a liar.)

Don't get me wrong, I don't ignore my kiddos. I make sure that we experience kairos time together every day (seriously, read the article. Here it is again). Whether it's early morning snuggles, or sweet angel smiles, or cooking dinner together. Sometimes I'm thankful for them when they are sitting on my lap coloring while I'm pounding away at my keyboard. Or when my son brings me a flower and says, "It for yew." Or when my daughter grins up at me and says, "Mommy, you made today a really great day." Or when BabyGirlie smiles up at me all sneakily when she's nursing (normally right before she bites). That's my "Thank you for them, God" time. It's my kairos time.

But my kairos time is not going home for the third time to get scooters to ride to the park 15 houses away from ours.

Which is why I grinned at my neighbor when she told me that she wished her kids were young again. "I'll rent mine out," I told her.

She blinked at me and then smiled back. "I don't miss it that much," she laughed.

See? I found another mother who knows the difference between chronos and kairos time.

"Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day." ~Glennon Melton

Clean Up, Clean Up, Everybody Clean Up!

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I've finally had it with the whining everytime I go to the store, the "I waaaaaaaant that!" What is even worse is when there is no whining and it is just a demand, "You will buy me that!"

Wanna bet?

So my husband and I decided that if they could go to preschool and clean up there for stickers, they could do it at home too. We created a chore chart.

Some chores are non-negotiable -- if you don't want Momma or Daddy to yell at you, you WILL do them. Such as clean your room. Do your homework (in PRESCHOOL, for the love of God!). Brush your teeth.

But other things will earn you a star. Things like feeding the dog, cleaning out the car, helping your brother/sister pick up toys, setting the table, clearing the table. And each star is worth a quarter.

At the end of the month, we add up the stars and dole out the money. Half of what they earn has to go in the piggy bank and the other half can be spent. Or they can save it all for a really big toy.
Girlie had been lobbying for a Polly Pocket, so she was all over this allowance thing. The kid earned $5 in a week!! She set the table for snack, for goodness' sake!

So she was very excited to go shopping with Momma.

(Excited to spend her allowance)


(Browsing possible purchases)

(Finally found what she wanted!)

Boyo, on the other hand, was a little mad that he couldn't get his "pennies" to come out of his piggie bank fast enough.


He's saving up for a new piggie bank.

Wordless Wednesday: How Could this POSSIBLY Go Wrong?

New Year's Resolution

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I've been holding onto this post because I didn't want anyone to know what my New Year's Resolutions were. Why? I didn't want anyone to hold me accountable.

But I'm finally ready to share.

I want to run 3 5Ks this year.

There are a few problems with this... one, we are going to start trying for Baby #4 in May/June (and then we are CLOSING UP SHOP!). But this means that I will be, hopefully, pregnant in July. Which means I have about 9 months to get these 3 5 K's run.

Two, the last time I ran was before BabyGirlie was born. So, you know, about 18 months ago.

Third, I hate running. I believe I have mentioned this before.

But I refused to let these three things get in the way of my resolution. Thus, last week, I went to the gym for the first time since Thanksgiving to pick up the training I had started in October.

Why a two month gym absence, you may be wondering.

Several reasons. Girlie, Boyo, and BabyGirlie, to name a few. Children have a wonderful ability to ruin your plans. They throw tantrums. They whine. They get sick for a month and the gym gets snooty when you try to put a sick child in daycare.

Another reason is that I threw out my back -- couldn't move for 24 hours, and then couldn't bend for another two weeks. So that sucked.

Oh, and another reason: Work.

But finally, last week, I got my act together. I created a new playlist on my iPod, packed a bottle of water and a towel, and cheerfully booted all 3 kids into the gym daycare. Then I climbed up on the treadmill, set it for the settings that I was running at 18 months ago, and ran for three miles.

Did you catch that? I set it for the settings that I was running at 18 months ago. There was no inner voice saying, "Hey, Shannon, maybe we should tone it down abit? After all, it's been 18 months since you last ran at this pace, and two months since you have done more than physical therapy or yoga." I think my inner voice was too busy laughing at my stupidity to speak up.

Holy Cheeseballs, Batman.

At the end of my 40 minutes, I nearly sank to the floor. I could barely walk. I considered crawling over to the day care to get my children. But pride won out, and I hobbled over to claim them. I even resisted asking the 4 year old for a piggy back ride.

So I decided to blog about my New Year's Resolution because someone is going to have to hold me accountable.

Life According to a 7 month Old...

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"Hmmm... what's this?
My foot? Let's eat it.
My hand? Let's eat it.
My stuffed bug? Let's eat it.
My rattle? Let's eat it.
Momma's hand? Let's eat it.
Momma's shoulder? Let's eat it.
Momma's necklace? Let's eat it.
Momma's hair? Let's eat it.
Momma's coffee cup? Let's eat it.
My sister? Let's eat it.
My brother? Let's eat it.
Daddy's chin? Let's eat it.
The dog? Let's eat it."

Wordless Wednesday: And that goes THERE