Kiddie - Isms

BabyGirlie: 
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"Baby, what does a kitty say?"
"MEOW"
"What does a duckie say?"
"QUACK QUACK?"
"What does a puppy say?"
"PUPPY!"
"What does a cow say?"
"MEOW"

Two out of four isn't that bad, right?

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She tattles now....

"Mommy!  Mommy!"

"Yes honey bear?"

"Daddy no bee bow no glap ball no bee nat glup NO DADDDY!"

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Me: BabyGirlie, are you supposed to jump on the couch?


BG: grinning, "No, no Mommy," as she jumps off the armrest....



Boyo:
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"I nin't hit my sister.  I moved her out of my way."

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"Mommy, when I'm 7 I can see Star Wars with the hot lava.  And when I'm 1300 I can see Spiderman."

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"I think, when I grow up, I'm going to work with you."

"Why, Bug?"

"So I can play computer games too."

Girlie:
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"SLOW DOWN!  We are being SLOWPOKES and you are being a FASTPOKE!"

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"I'm going to miss when my sister doesn't sing any songs and dance around.  She's my little singing baby."

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"Mommy, I'm not tattling on my brother.  I'm just telling you a story about what he did... That was naughty." 

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

Wordless Wednesday

WTF?!?

That would be a toddler chair, people.

You know what the problem with holiday cards are? My kids have to be in them.

This year, I got a brilliant idea. I should take a picture of my daughter kissing my son for our Christmas card, I thought. I'm an idiot. I'd clearly forgotten the Valentine's Day fiasco of 2009.

This is what I got:

You would have thought I was torturing Boyo.

Mommy CIA

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Last week was my daughter's field trip to the Pumpkin Patch.

I had been so excited... I think I was more excited than she was.

I couldn't wait to go on a hay ride with my kids, or take them through the haunted house, or debate the best pumpkin with them.

Of course, I threw out my back the weekend before and I couldn't walk the day of the field trip.

I was crushed. CRUSHED.

My daughter didn't have a clue.

And my husband rode to rescue as my knight in shining armor... he took the day of work and took the kids to the Pumpkin Patch. The only dad among 22 moms and 34 kids.

Thursday, at my daughter's Halloween party, another mom came up to me and said, "I just want you to know that your husband did great with the kids."

"Um, thanks," I replied, but in my head I was thinking: They are his kids too... he had better have done great with them.

"I mean, I would want to know how my husband did," she continued. "So I thought I would let you know."

I smiled, but I wasn't sure if I should be thankful or indignant.

When I told my husband about it over dinner that night, he laughed. "I'm glad your Mommy CIA reported favorably on me," he said. "Are you going to have to change the name of the Mommy Club now that I figured it out?"

HELP!

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I am so overwhelmed.

I am treading water frantically, but I'm still under a foot of water.

And I feel horribly guilty complaining about being overwhelmed because I wanted this job. I prayed for it. I was sure it would be absolutely perfect for me.

And now...

I have two kids that just want their mommy to play with them.

I have a To Do List that is 2 pages long. And that is just for work. And I only know how to do half of the crap on the list.

I have another To Do List that is 1 page long. And that's for my house.

I am an idiot and decided to have a garage sale this Saturday. Yeah, is it set up? No.

My daughter's field trip to the pumpkin patch is on Monday, at the exact same time as my first department meeting.

I'm in the process of hiring a nanny, which means interviews.

My kids' playroom is so thrashed that in order to pick it up, I have to jump over three piles of toys just to get into it.

I have four loads of laundry waiting to be folded, and five more waiting to be run.

I'm supposed to make a plate of sandwiches for a picnic today.

I have a sink full of dishes that desperately need to be washed... I'm afraid of the insect life that will be attracted to them soon.

I have a husband who tells me just to relax, he'll take care of it... and then goes outside to smoke a cigar.

All I want to do is drink a cup of coffee, lay on the couch with a blanket, and watch the week of TV that I have DVR'd. Or I want to sit down, drink a glass of wine and cry. Or I want to go for a run. Or to a yoga class. Or just AWAY.

And I'm blogging about it, instead of working...