Rings

Snow day number two for my boys.  They played outside for two hours on the enormous piles of snow that accumulated by our driveway.  By the time they came inside two hours later they looked like snowballs.  The joys of fresh, white snow for small children.  (Not such a joy for me and my husband having shoveled the driveway three times before 10 a.m.)  For me, today was more a gift of an unexpected "stay home" day.  I was supposed to have school today and so were my boys--but none of that!  The idea of a foot of snow is bound to slow anyone down!

The sheer joy of the day came in the afternoon.  I was studying for my clinical competency exam and decided to take a break.  I was looking at my rings.  My engagement ring.  The excitement of knowing Derek wanted to spend his life with me.  My wedding band.  The promise Derek would commit his life to me, and I would commit mine to his.  And an anniversary ring.  Ten years.  The ring that began as such a surprise at our five-year anniversary and grew at our ten-year anniversary.  Diamonds that are carried on my fingers as a daily reminder of someone who loves me and cherishes me.  As I admired and reflected while looking at these rings my boys laughed out loud at a movie in another room. 

And then I immediately posted this.  Because I do not want to take for granted the laughter and love that abounds in our home.

Just a reminder life is good.  I love my life filled with boys big and small.  I love the laughter.  I love the happiness.  I love the joy.

And it all began with a ring.  Sometimes I think the rings are only about Derek and me.  That two were simply the commitment of us.  But these two rings were the beginning of a family only God could unfold.  The story would have never been told without the gift of the first ring.  The journey is remembered fondly with the others.

I can't imagine my life without these boys God has blessed me with so abundantly.

Not Cool

I am not cool.  I never have been.  I think I am past the point where I will ever be able to be cool.  Let me give you a list of reasons why I do not fall into the "cool" category (maybe some of it is just my perspective, but I don't think so):

I still have (and use VHS tapes), and still "tape" shows on occasion because I do not have a DVR.

I don't have cable.

I have an iPod, but only to store my CDs on it.  I have never purchased any music from iTunes.

I could not name a single member of the Pussy Cat Dolls, the Spice Girls or the Backstreet Boys if it were for a million dollars.  The fact I still reference these groups should be an indication that I could not get a million dollars to name a more current group.

I don't keep up with the Kardashians.  I don't know why anyone would anyway.  Maybe I am cool for saying no to that one.

I am not on Facebook.  I'm not sure they would want me.

I do not have a Smart Phone.  I don't text.  My phone takes pictures.  I have had my phone a year and a half and it only has ten pictures on it.  Phones are for calling people.  I think only five people have my cell phone number to call me.  No wonder I never have plans on Saturday evening....  Oh wait, that's kids and marriage, not my phone.

I am wearing clothes I had ten years ago.  I don't know what the current trend is.  I count on my sister to buy me one or two things each year to make sure I do not miss entire decades of fashion.  The clothes she buys me are the times I get compliments about how I look.

My husband is not cool either.  He references himself as the "cool nerd" in high school.  Complete oxymoron if I have ever heard one.

Really, the list is endless.  Don't get me wrong, some of my lack off coolness may now be classified in my mind as lack of interest or to others as being cheap.  Whatever.  I'll deal with it. 

Here is my problem with not being cool.  What happens to my kids?  Right now, kids don't care.  They are three and five and still in preschool.  But right now my kids are not off to a good start for cool experiences.  They have not been to Disney World.  They do not have 'DS.'  They rarely play on the computer.  They have had one to many experiences watching movies that include my old VHS tapes and whether or not the movies from the library will work.

I hope I am not destroying my kids shot at coolness.  They are happy for now.  What happens when they realize anyone can have cable and we don't?  Maybe my kids will make me cool.  Or cool enough to get them by.  Or at least distract people enough that they don't notice I'm not.  May my children prevail over my shortcomings.

Moratorium defined

The boys love to talk about and go the the Natatorium here in town, but we have not been able to go because Blake's stitches have not been out for a week.  However, they still were chatting about it today. 

"Natatorium" is a tough word to say for a three-year-old, though, so Blake was calling it the "Matatorium."  Pretty close, but Erick felt the need to correct him anyway (because Erick is perfect and articulates everything without error), "No, Blake, it's NATatorium, not MATatorium." 

I reminded Erick he used to call it the "Moratorium,"which he laughed at the idea of the word.

Blake asked Erick what "moratorium" meant. 

Erick replied, "There are more people there.  And more and more and more people.  And that's why it's called a MORatorium." 

Almost.  I didn't feel the need to tell them what a moratorium really is. 

What's crooked?

Blake always seems to have a unique take on life.  I seldom feel he views the world the same way the rest of the family does.  Some days I wonder if he has absorbed anything around him with even the tiniest perspective of others.

Today he let me know that, yes, he does pick up on some of it.  He has already begun to take note of the sarcasm that flows from me like breath.

Erick's glasses were so incredibly crooked today.  I fussed with them for several minutes and then finally commented to Erick, "Maybe your face is on crooked."

Blake quickly shot back at me, "Maybe your face."

I couldn't disagree with him. 

Ahhh, the joy of the sarcastic comment.  Way to keep up with the inappropriateness of the family, buddy. 

Let's keep it real: Motherhood

I have a general rule of thumb about purchases:  If the person is smiling on the package, don't buy it.  It's a lie.

Example:  Textured ceiling paint.  It is not easy, should not be done in a button-down shirt and dress pants, and will not come out with a professional look.
Example two:  Tilt in windows.  No one smiles when cleaning windows. Come on,, people.  My windows were so dirty I ruined my clothes when I was cleaning.  I was pretty mad.  And then it rained, and then I had to clean the windows again.  I am happier closing the curtains.
Example three:  Any parenting magazine.  If the adult is smiling, it is probably the nanny or babysitter, because that person is paid to smile.  Parents do not smile when there is spaghetti all over the floor and play-doh smashed into carpet.

Don't get me wrong.  I love being a mom.  I would rather be at home stepping on toys and pulling a muscle fishing a toy out from behind the couch than not, but this is not "smile on my face, everyone jump on the bandwagon, you should try this easy-as-pie-done-in-an-hour kind of job with a gourmet meal and make-up on feel sexy and wonderful at the end of the day" deal.  And let's all be honest about it.

I know GREAT moms.  They will tell you they are not, but they are.  But the fact of the matter is, ALL moms have rough days.  I don't know that I am great (I am certain you would not see me smiling on the package of "Motherhood").  Today was not especially rough, either, but it was still an emotional challenge.  Two minutes after Blake 'put on his listening ears,' he informed me that 'these listening ears turn off really fast.'

Yup.  (Cue, "If I need to say this one more time......")

It was just one of those days where, as a mom, I just feel like I am never going to get it right.  At 2:30 there were still dishes from breakfast on the counter, and I felt like I had not done anything remotely involved with my children.  We had taken a bath, packed lunches for the next day and picked out outfits for school, so it was productive, but like my kids care about productive.  Reading for the day was related to homework for preschool, and I could not understand why Erick wanted to memorize a book rather than learn the words.  "READ, look at words!  Reading is for eyes, not for ears!"

I was in the home with my boys, but boy, I was not mothering.

"I am terrible at this.  And someone said I was fit to be a mother," was all I could think. I get tired of yelling.  I get tired of repeating myself.  I get tired of cleaning up toys.  I get tired of being excited about superheros falling in dramatic style.  I get tired of being interrupted going to the bathroom.  I get tired.  I get tired of wondering if this is how it is supposed to be.  I get tired of wondering what I should do different or better or not at all.

But this is who I am.  This is who they are.  This is the struggle of motherhood.

I told my boys I am sorry today.  Not for putting them in timeout, but for telling them I don't always do what is right, either.  I told them I get frustrated.  I told them I love them.  I gave myself a "hugging timeout" with them today.  I need that some days.  I just need to hug them and tell them the good things about them and soak them in.

I watched my boys play in the snow.  They rolled down a snow drift and looked to the sky and let snowflakes tickle their eyes.  They laughed.  They ran.  They played.  Freely.  I don't know how to be a great mom, but they know how to be GREAT at being kids.  I guess as long as they know that, it's okay.  I need to let that be okay too.

If I need to sell a new mom on motherhood, I won't smile on the package, because some days it is hard.   (Okay, all of them).  It is still worth it.  And it does bring a smile to my face.  But, man, do I screw it up.  Let's be honest, I think we all do at some point.  As parents, we need to all keep it real that way.  I don't mean drown in our faults, but at least let each other know it will be okay.  Parenthood brings new meaning to "no one is perfect."  We need to stop fooling ourselves and give everyone a break.

If anyone packages "childhood" with a smile on it, though, that one will be worth buying.  God, let me never forget that.

Crack

We have had a mixture of cold weather, warmer weather, ice, rain and snow here.  Today it is sunny, but still cold enough for the snow to stick around.

Erick informed me, "Mom, the snow is so hard when you step on it crack comes out of it."

I don't think Erick has a good understanding of what crack is.

Head butt

The stitches are not even 24 hours old!!!  Watch out!!!

Erick and Blake bumped heads on the couch today.  Tears followed.

"Not again!"  I thought.

I hugged them both, but really needed the crying to stop so I could assess the situation.

Contest time.

"Let's see who's toughest.  First person to stop crying is the toughest!"

The crying stopped within two seconds and laughter followed.  All better.  I guess it's a tie.

I need to remember that one.

Stitches

It has finally happened.  Almost five years into parenthood, and a trip to the ER for an injury.

Recall how I mentioned my "Superboys" were probably not the best to call on to save the world?  Here's the proof.

The evening began with dinner and making plans for after dinner activities.  Erick wanted to play with a marble race activity, and Blake wanted Thomas.  Finally, a night with no shows as a request!  The evening did not go as planned.

Apparently, two Jedi ships (Erick and Blake) were chasing each other around the Galaxy (our basement) while the commanders of the Universe (parents myself and Derek) were doing dishes and cleaning up dinner.  Galaxian Queen Anne heard a thud and then screaming.  The lead Jedi ship had checked behind him, but forgot to consider the path ahead.  He crashed directly into the pole in front of him.  Screaming followed. 

Erick yelled up the stairs,  "Mom, Blake hit his head on the pole!"

I ran down the steps.  Really, it only looked like a small cut with a tiny bit of blood.  That changed.  Rapidly.  About halfway up the stairs--and only seconds later--Blake's face was covered with blood.  It was streaming down his cheek and chin, but thankfully, staying out of his eyes albeit dripping all over my shirt.  I carried him to the bathroom for a washcloth.  (Of course, I could not grab the new one from Christmas, though). I cleaned him up.  The light blue washcloth was now mostly red.  Derek grabbed a gauze pad and within a few minutes of holding the gauze pad firmly in place the crying and bleeding had stopped.  Blake really is a tough Jedi knight.  During that time two phone calls were made to my girlfriend, and nurse, with no answer--but messages were left---and a call to an after-hours nurse. 

Now the lingering question....Does it need medical attention.  Does it need stitches?  I spent 25 minutes on the phone with the after-hours nurse from the pediatrician's office.  The nurse said as long as the cut did not appear "deep" (which apparently is a relative term as I could not measure it) and the cut was smooth along the edges, then Blake would be okay.  Just wake him up to check for dizziness--two and four hours after he has fallen asleep.  He is the soundest sleeper in the world (and I am a close second).  Oh well, we'll deal with it.

Then my girlfriend called back.  I told her the events of the evening.  She was on her way home from work (after helping deliver 8 babies that day!), but would stop by.  She is a saint.  She checked Blake's head.

"It's deeper than you think.  If you take him to ER, they will stitch it."

Ugh.  Last time I call her.

Okay.

Blake was crying again, but now only because he cannot play with his choo-choo trains and there is no show.  Derek promised to take the computer and Toy Story 3.  Blake was all smiles and ready to go.  Now Erick was crying.  What is going on!!!

Erick cried about how "It's so hard to be brave...This is just terrible!  I wish the boo boo would just go away!"  Me too, buddy.

Erick and I played marbles.  The crying stopped.  Erick called his Grandma and told her the news; I clarified the news.  Derek checked in to say Blake was doing fine and waiting for the numbing medicine to take effect so he could get his stitches.  Blake had asked for an extra medical bracelet to bring home for Erick, and Erick was pleased to hear the news about the bracelet.

Blake was tough.  He Received three stitches just above the hairline and went right to bed when he came home.  He is recovering nicely today and jumping off snowpiles.  The only time he whines about his boo boo is when he needs ointment on it.

He may not be ready to save the world, but he's tough enough to take it on. 

First Snow Day

My boys had their first "snow day" today, but my school only had a delay.  That meant Daddy got to stay home from work with the boys.  Erick woke up, saw me,

"Hi, mommy,"

and proceeded downstairs.  He remained oblivious to the crumpled mess of covers hiding his sleeping father.

A while later I informed Erick I needed to leave for school.  He was still in his pajamas and had not eaten breakfast.  Not to mention I was clearly leaving without him and Blake in the car with me headed to preschool.  Erick remained unaware his preschool was closed and Daddy was home.

He looked at me with a slight amount of panic and said, "But Mommy if you leave we will have to walk all the way to preschool or drive there.  And we don't have a GPS.  How will we get there?"

Somehow or another Erick has become fixated on a GPS getting him anywhere when he thinks he may need to get somewhere alone.  He knows the way to his preschool.  Trust me.  He tells me when I take a different route or if we drive anywhere near the preschool on an off day.  He does not need a GPS.  And why my five-year-old thinks he is taking a car anywhere is beyond me.  He knows he doesn't know how to drive, either; he has told me so.

I told Erick he would need to do his best to find his way.  He of course did not find this answer acceptable.  So I took his hand, led him upstairs to the pile of blankets and helped him find his Dad.  Snow Day, buddy.  It's a "stay at home day" with your Dad. 

Enjoy your first snow day.

Superboys

With two boys, superhero names can be very helpful in many situations for either saving the day, calling out bad attitudes or changing the mood of a situation.  Some recurring names we have in our home are: 

"Naked Boy" (a favorite of Blake after bath, courtesy of his aunt.  Although Naked Boy has been making a strong appearance most days now when Blake should be getting dressed).
"Captain Cranky Pants"  (Used frequently when frowns are observed and general grumpy attitudes).
"Mr. or Captain Crabby Butt"  (Used when there is a general bad attitude we can no longer stand).
ALL superheroes well known to the general population are manifested by my boys when rescuing other toys or saving someone from the wrath of the "tickle monster."
"Mr. Bossy Pants"  (Erick's name for telling us all what to do.  Occasionally, he is referred to as "Dr. Bossy Pants."  Erick wears this name proudly and will claim bossiness as a positive character trait in public.  Life may kick those Bossy Pants abruptly one day.  For now it works for him).

These names have become so famous in our home that tonight while playing with pirates in the bathtub, one of the characters became "Captain Cranky Pants."  I do not believe the character was doing anything remotely cranky.  He truly was saving something.  So there you have it, "Captain Cranky Pants" is now an official, I wanna be him superhero worth including in the realmof save-the-world-imaginative fun.

I can't wait for him to join forces with Dr. Bossy Pants and Naked Boy.

Don't bet the bank that our home is making the world a safer place just yet.