A view from our front porch

So many of our mornings, afternoons and evenings are spent on the front porch. We have a great front porch and if we ever move, it will be hard to duplicate. Two swings hang in two great shade trees, there's plenty of comfortable seating and a view of the neighborhood, perfect for starting up conversations with passerbys. I'm starting to notice that lots of our kid's pictures are taken out on this front porch. Which means, lots of memories.

This is our view:

Daddy's helping hands...

A new favorite toy...
An attempt to play with the dog...
Mom trying to get all artsy with the camera...
But nobody wants to cooperate...
So, lets get one of all three of us. Ugh!
I'm blaming this one on camera angle.

"Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most"

From what I can tell by being "educated" through Google, I think Mark Twain said that quote above and sometimes I wonder when I'll get my old mind back, if ever.

BK (before kids), I would get so immersed in drafting surveys or record plats for hours that I'd realize about 3 o'clock I was close to urinating on myself and hadn't had lunch yet. No interruptions, no phone calls, no emails, no visits, just pure and simple intense focus on my work that lasted for hours. I'm good at that. I was good at that. I don't know if I am any more or not. The only stretch of long periods of time I have is while sleeping, occasionally.

I asked our wise neighbor the other day, "Mrs. P. how old were you when you started to notice your mind changing?"

She looked at me funny and said, "Changing? Are you noticing something that I'm not?"

"No, no. I mean like when your kids were small. Did you notice that you weren't able to concentrate on hardly anything because of their constant attention?"

She was relieved to hear I wasn't insinuating anything else and gave me the advice I've heard before, but find hard to believe because I'm so deep in the world of little people.

This too shall pass. I will get my mind back, maybe not ALL of it compared to when I was 18, but most of it.

The most recent example I have of losing "it" was Thursday on the way to an ear re-check for the 2nd child in a row with small Eustachian tubes. Background info: when we leave our house and get to "the intersection", the fastest way to get to the Dr.'s office is to go straight.

For reasons that would make most people question my abilities to raise two small children (small things like acknowledging a truck drove by before Mr. Small Tubes has a coronary or answering the 16th question in a row by Miss Inquisitive) my mind went blank and instead of going straight, I took a left. As soon as I straightened out the steering wheel I noticed what I had done and was disgusted with myself. As you can imagine Miss Inquisitive was in the back seat asking me why I said, "Oh poo".

In the middle of trying to regain my thoughts, plan out the next fastest route and explain to her what I had done I glanced up in the rear view mirror to watch Daddy drive across the intersection, going straight, the way I should have gone. What I should have seen was his profile, looking straight ahead, driving. What I saw was the outline of his ears and I lost it. "It" being any and all seriousness I might have had about getting to a Dr.'s appointment on time.

In the middle of explaining my "oh poo" comment I busted out in laughter. Laughing so hard, it was hard to see through the tears in my eyes. You see, unbeknownst to my husband, his ears were what made me laugh so hard. Seeing his ears meant he wasn't watching the road ahead. His ears meant that he was watching his wife drive off in our car with our two small children on another path that didn't make sense and would add minutes to our arrival time. His ears meant his mind was reeling over why in the world I turned left instead of going straight.

Well then, of course, more questions started about my laughter, more screeches for truck acknowledgment continued and now I'm looking for tissues, napkins or even old socks to dry my eyes so I can see the road. ( I've said it before, I'll say it again: it's no wonder mothers don't get into more accidents while driving than they already do.)

I finally got it together and we arrived on time, but it was one more reminder that the old mind I had must be on vacation. I'm hoping it is, because I'd like for it to come back refreshed and ready to work it's tail off.

Hopefully soon, concentration will once again be a skill I can perform because of less interruptions and distractions. Projects will be easier to complete in one, maybe two, installments (as opposed to the 5 attempts it took me to wash the windows in the house. No, I'm not kidding). And maybe, just maybe, there will be time for other "stuff" because there won't be the need to change diapers, referee, dress them, put their shoes on, pour every single drink, clean up spills, prepare and clean up all meals, wipe their faces, go get more toilet paper and help with brushing teeth all before 8:15.

I know me, though. I'll miss their constant need for me, but I think I'll also enjoy having some of the little "extras" in life back that I seriously took advantage of.

I've often heard "being a mom is the hardest job in the world" because my kids are little and I also have lots of friends with small kids. I've often thought that many other jobs could be harder. But I know now, when considering all the facets it takes to make up a whole person, I'm now convinced that mothering affects them all: heart, mind, sanity, sleep, intellect, relationships and spiritual growth, to name a few. It is certainly the hardest job I've had so far, but one I would NEVER trade.

Water babies

It's official. I gave birth to two children that have morphed into amphibians.

THEY LOVE THE WATER!

Which is a HUGE blessing because I feared for a while that neither one of them would like it and with both of their parents being raised half in/half out of the water, that was going to be an issue.

Mother's Day was sketchy with the little one, but that was because of an ear infection. As of Tuesday, he exhibits more of a Commando-style when it comes to swimming. Similar to "it's up to you to catch me when I fall in" or "wanna see if I can touch the bottom" type of mentality.

And she has shown a deep desire to learn how to swim without floaties. Putting her face in the water still isn't high on her priority list, but I can tell she wants to, it's just not comfortable for her yet.

It makes for an interesting/non-relaxing trip to the pool, trying to keep an eye on both of them, but I'm so thankful.

One day soon I won't be able to provide enough water-time for them.

Motherhood

I've been wondering what in the world I would write about motherhood for Mother's Day. Then I ran across Amber's post in her Life with the Ferrells blog, and rather than reinvent the wheel, I give her all the credit for writing this beautiful homage to motherhood. I couldn't haven't written it better myself.

Motherhood is an ever-changing, full time position with more ups and downs than anyone expects. There are days when it takes every ounce of your being to not pull your hair out by the roots, and there are days when you smile a never-ending smile while reflecting on the day's events as your head hits the pillow.

It's a job that pays in cheeto-fingers on the windows, spilled chocolate milk on the freshly shampooed carpet, mini bouquets of wild flowers and weeds, and hugs and kisses at evening's end. Amidst the numerous stages of motherhood through the ages of the children, I wanted to make sure and jot down what this honorable position means to me in this time in my children's lives, as I know that it is a fleeting time...

Mothering 3 small children means that the toys are never fully put in their proper places. Lego imprints on the bottom of feet become the new tattoo fetish, Hungry Hungry Hippo marbles get kicked under bookshelves, clothes never seem to actually stay on the Barbies, and Hot Wheels become incredible skates through late night adventures through the house.

Motherhood creates stimulation deep down in the brain sensors, causing certain phrases to erupt such as "Don't pick your nose", "Pick up your dirty clothes", "Don'choo argue with me", and "Because I said so". It gives you the ability to multi-task like a pro, but neglects to reward you with the super power of getting everything done at all times. It gives you the ability to remember all the words to "Hush Little Baby" and "You are my sunshine" but forget where you put your car keys 3 minutes ago.

It makes you realize the importance of your children respecting each other and trying like mad to shape their relationships with one another to be long-lasting ones. You try so desperately to "figure out" the ins and outs of the differing personalities of all the little heads living under your roof and tailor discipline techniques and daily life to each child. Motherhood causes you to pray that you aren't screwing these precious little people up.

Motherhood is full of conflicts. Sugar vs. Natural Juices. Vaccines vs. Non-vax. Soccer vs. Piano. School vs. Home. Spongebob vs. Phineas and Ferb. You try to stay up to date on the various forms of technology in this tech-heavy world and give little doses while still encouraging time to explore. You desire for them to see their small world for themselves, yet cringe when you watch an Amber Alert news flash. Friendships are encouraged and then later discouraged when you realize what new information about life is being passed around to innocent ears. You wonder how much is too much and how little is too little.

Motherhood is about sacrifice. Setting the alarm extra early to get them to school earlier for whatever reason. Watching the hours pass while lying in a foreign bed because a little one woke and can't fall back asleep. Keeping a log of who got what medicine when. Staying up to date on the schedule of events the kiddos may like.

Motherhood likes to befriend worry. Am I too harsh? Too lenient? Do I push enough healthy foods amidst the crap the kids eat all day? Do I read to them enough? Are they learning at a good level? How much do I push? When do I just let them be? Am I allowing their personalities to shine or squelching their spirit? As much as you try to conquer it all, you will never feel like you could completely succeed at being the mother you wish to be.

Motherhood is fun. Telling ghost stories in the closet with a flashlight and teaching them how to put chips on their ham and cheese sandwich are prerequisites to the job. On any given day, there are little hands and feet ready to take a spin on the homemade dance floor called the living room carpet. There are bellies that need tickling and noses that need eskimo-kissing. You are often needed to trace body outlines on the driveway, creating a homemade scene in a forensics show. You can watch movies that gave you such satisfaction when you were a kid and relive them through the eyes of your child all over again. Oh yes, motherhood is so incredibly fun.

Motherhood is a gift. Its sometimes difficult to realize how much of a gift this title of mother entails as you are breaking up sibling spats, cleaning poop off the floor, and washing copious amount of dishes and clothes...but right there, circling around your feet, are little eyes watching your every move. Right there are miniature people looking up for guidance and direction in this big world, and God has given us the ability to instruct and help these precious children through this life. Motherhood is indeed an incredible gift...one that we should never take lightly.

That was absolutely beautiful Amber.

Some of the differences in our household would be: I don't have 3 kids, we don't have small legos or a Hungry Hippo game yet, but we do have plastic tools that end up in the couch crevices, under beds and inside kitchen cabinets. And instead of catching the child actually picking his/her nose, I'm usually late and my comment is, "What would make you think eating the boogie was a good idea?"

My Mother's day was just right for me. I got to kind of sleep in, breakfast was made after two cutie patooties gently climbed up in the bed, nudged my nose, got eye-to-eye with me and whispered, "Eat!" There was little to no squabbling while getting ready. We got to church on time. Nathan didn't cry when we left the nursery and after skipping a nap, he was surprisingly pleasant all through lunch. Afternoon naps lasted a good amount, including mine, and afterwards we went swimming with my mom and grandma in their heated pool. Daddy was gracious enough to take little guy home earlier than expected (found out yesterday he has another ear infection, so swimming just wasn't his thing) and on the way home in Mer's car, Katherine, Mer and I got to watch the fireworks from the Symphony under the Stars celebration.

It was a beautiful day of simple celebrations, something I've grown to appreciate much more through motherhood.

I couldn't have asked for kids better suited to me. I am so thankful to be called "Mom".

Boy, has she heard this a time or two

Yesterday, as I was trying to praise Katherine for being so well-behaved and obedient, Nathan was in the background increasing the volume like he usually does when no one is acknowledging him.

She was gazing into my eyes, taking in all the praise I could give, then held up her finger, signaling me to "wait a second", turned around to her brother and said sternly:

"Nathan, please be quiet. What you are doing is called INTERUPPING!"

Then she calmly turned back around to me and said, "anyways."

We've got a biter on our hands

How is it that a blonde-haired, blue-eyed angelic-looking boy that blows kisses and delivers a hand full of weed-flowers to older ladies to make them melt, can be a holy terror?

In my experience, teething gets blamed for almost everything. Just ask my mom. Teething is the reason for, crankiness, not getting enough sleep, colds, not eating, runny noses, fevers, diarrhea and now biting. I get it, somewhat. Except that the American Academy of Pediatrics and all those "learned doctors that went through so much schooling" seem to disagree with most of my mother's wise words. Which in itself is ironic because, according to her, usually if your title starts with a DR or an REV, your opinion has got to be right.

So what is it? Sheer frustration with not being able to communicate? Impatience? Budding soon-to-be-out-of-control temper?

I think I'm leaning more toward the "just being plain rotten" explanation. A good friend of mine summed it up pretty good when she referred to her children's bad behavior as "they're just being sinners." Amen sister to that.

But I guess I'd have to include myself in that explanation when the cherubim decided to lock down on my arm and drew some blood. He bit so hard, I was seriously thinking it was infected because of how much it welted up within minutes.

During his and mommy's appointed time-out, I ended up apologizing to the 4-year-old girl who is always soaking up all of the events, reactions and words being said. She saw reactions she probably shouldn't have seen, no bad words thankfully, but I shutter to think of her reacting that way towards anybody.

Good news is, could there be any better time to point out my imperfections and turn her attention to our Heavenly Father's perfect love for us and remind her of how much more He loves us even when we bite him? I'm sure the concept of biting Jesus is a little far-fetched in her mind, but at least I think she's getting the love part.

So here's a question for the 3 readers I have:

What did you do with a biting child?

For each biting incident, all the circumstances have been different: impatience, lack of communication skills, disobedience, being wronged.

Our MOPS group had the Wise Women Panel today and even our wise women were stumped, or at least their answers weren't the spelled out equation or list of suggestions to try next I was looking for.

It's certainly not everyday, which is really good for his father because farming 1100 acres could get a bit difficult with a toddler riding around in the front seat all day long. And it also gives me a chance to refuel my admiration for his sweet little face that loves to give his mommy open-mouth kisses.

If you get a chance, let me know what you think I should try next. I'm aware that my pride is an issue also because the idea of having "that kid that bites" is horrifying to me. So what I'm looking for is not only practical advice for our little wolf in sheep's clothing, but also advice on my struggles as well.

Katherine quotes

Some funny sayings today:

K: Mommy, R told me that when she grows up, she wants to be a teacher.
M: Really? That's nice, she'd be a good teacher.
K: Well, when I grow up, I'm not quite sure what I want to be. Oh I know! I want to be a Princess.

* * * * * * * * * *

M: When we get home, would you like to play with some chalk and draw on the driveway?
K: Oh yes, and I want to draw a picture of you and daddy getting married. I'll draw daddy with a big head, and I'll draw you . . . . with a small head.
M: You're welcome for buying you all the bedding, honey.

Big girl bed

Our little girl passed through another rite of passage in her 4 short years of life. It all came about through some friends of ours, the right timing and a little extra cash raised from selling the double stroller my husband loathed and had nicknamed "The Limo."

Katherine has moved on up to a full size big girl bed.

This past week, I had been using my time out on the front porch, while watching kiddos play, to sand down the loose paint areas. Yesterday was the big painting day. Today was the day to purchase the linens. And tonight was the always fun assembling of the bed, sheets, pillows, shams and re-arranging of the room, again.

The kids had a blast jumping and playing on the mattress while it was on the floor. Daddy even got in some tickle time on me, which Nathan thought was hilarious.

Although, there was one slight problem. Right when it got to the really fun part of putting the bed together with sheets and pillows, Jim and I stood staring at the assembled bed with furrowed brows, speechless. The mattresses were insanely tall and they covered the headboard minus about 2 inches peeking out the top.

I guess our first concern was how tall it was, because Katherine is still kind of sleeping half on and half off of her toddler bed.

The other perplexing part of it all was how the mattresses covered the headboard. The headboard was what I was interested in most about this bed. It's got great little girly-girl curves with turned bedposts and it wasn't too big of a bed for her. So what in the world can we do with this great bed that apparently isn't high enough for the mattress that came with it?

The children found what they could do, which was use the footboard as a ladder, climb up on top of the insanely high bed and jump on it, almost hitting their heads on the spinning fan above.

So far, until she's a little bit more familiar with this bed, she's minus a box spring. If daddy lays on it, the mattress bulges through the support slats underneath. We'll try the box spring again later.

Guess that would explain why I got a really good deal on it.

Good news is that mommy gets to practice a little Design on a Dime and break out some more sewing and painting skills. I see this as the last chance I'll get to decorate her room before she really has some definite likes/dislikes that don't coincide with mine or our budget.

Average morning

Occasionally, mommy needs about 15 minutes to either get cleaned up for the morning without having to chase down a child eating dog food, or she just needs the chance to put on her make-up without having to search for it under rugs or in trash cans after two little ones have had their fun playing with it. The answer: barricade them in one of their rooms.

Katherine usually prefers his room, probably because he won't mess up the stuff in her room, so here is a typical morning of them being barricaded in his room for the time it took me to dry and curl my hair (without having little hands reaching for a hot iron or climbing up my leg), in relative peace.
Not bad, if I say so myself. Anything and everything that happens across the road is always more interesting than our house and hooray for books being interesting to the little guy.

A typical visit from CPapa

When requiring attention from grandparents, our two kiddos still couldn't be more different:

She wants to play doctor

and he wants to drive heavy equipment toys.

We're glad you're back CPapa!