It is 8:30 on a Saturday night and I am about to gorge myself on good chocolate and books. I am full of resolution. I am full of cheer. I am alone with the hot running water, in a cocoon the color of the shower curtain. My library loot is stacked beside me on the handmade, colored "Mara HEARTS Daddy" step stool. A pile of Ghirardellis on the ledge of the tub, next to my bottle of cold water.

Joe's out snowboarding, the 3-under-3 are sleeping, and tonight I'm kicking it Mommy-style. Mommy after 3 days of no-routines, messy-house, movie-overload, good-times chaos. Mommy after 3 days of feeling slightly guilty that she has trouble going with the flow and that
she kind of resents the extra work that results from all this fun. Read the rest of this entry »

I'm always there. I'm overseeing every moment of their little lives. Even on bad hair days.

They may not know it, but
I'm always close, watching, listening, protecting. Why? Right now, it's about guiding and training their behavior, protecting them from any sort of abuse, and guarding their little hearts from fear, insecurity, confusion.
That means I don't just blithely send them off to whatever activity or childcare is offered. My default is that they stay with me. I want to know what's going on with them, what they're experiencing. I have to be there to know that.

I choose very carefully the people who take care of them when I need a sitter - it's grandparents or Aunties or, very rarely, a single gal I know and trust who has a great track record with us. I have a few other standbys - married women who are raising/have raised kids in the same kind of protecting, nurturing way - but every there I'm careful, prayerful. Paranoid? Maybe, but I don't think so. These children - my children - are innocent little travelers in a big, rough world.

They'll grow up and be capable of handling it, but that's not for a while yet. Right now their hearts and minds are so tender, impressionable. A scary cartoon has a big effect. If I let them loose into a world of confusing, conflicting adult standards, the number of negative experiences would increase 1000%. Not all would be really bad. A kid doesn't have to be abused to become hurt, scared, and unsure about right and wrong.
I want my children to grow up to be adults who know right and wrong as absolutes and who have a positive, optimistic outlook. Differing standards and negative experiences undermine those two goals. No, I can't control everything. I'm not saying I always say no, or that I never let them out to learn and interact. I am saying this, though: I'm there.

I'm there to see what happens, to explain, to shield, to provide security and reason even when things are difficult. I tell my kids the truth. When our dog died, I told them. When they asked if Gigi (my step Mom) was my Mommy, I explained: No, my Mommy died. (Their answer: Like our doggie died? Yes, kids, death is death.)
They live in this fallen world too and they can't be shielded from all pain, nor should they be. But I'm in charge of their pain management. Joe and I are the interpreters of the world for them. When big scary things happen, we are there to put it in context for them. And you don't know what a big scary thing is to them unless you're there.

So. Unless one of my tried-and-true, trusted sitters is available, our kids stay with me. And even when the sitters are available, most of the time our kids stay with me. I love them. I want them with me. I want to be there. We leave them maybe twice a month for a date night out. Other times we have date night in (better dress code...).
I pass on most Mommy's Day Out, drop and shop, etc programs where there are way too many factors out of my control. Every week or two, when I get claustrophobic and need time to be me-sans-Mommyness, Joe keeps the kids at home and I go out for a couple of hours.

For classes and fun stuff like dance or gym or sports that I want them to be part of (and there aren't many), I make sure 1) it's a group deal with 2+ adults there at all times and 2) I stay and watch to see how things go for a while before I leave, IF I leave and 3) I'm always early for pickup time, to see how things wrap up and to be sure my child isn't left alone unsupervised or uncertain about what's net. I avoid situations that I can't predict with accuracy when it comes to leaving my children.

That's the place I've come to with my kids. They are very young right now, and as they grow we will have a bit more freedom. But I come back to this truth: these little people are given to me as a trust. No one else has the heart and instinct and mind to mother my children, because God gave that to me. I'm their Mom, and these days of intensive mothering are few and swiftly passing. I want to make the most of them.

(Poor kids. This means they're definitely going to end up weird like me. Mwahahaha.)

What do you think? How do you handle the endless opportunities for outings? What are you standards? How do you fit in alone time?

This post is part of the 30-Minute Blogging Challenge at SteadyMom.

The most potent influence for good that the world knows is a whole minded Christian home.
In such a home the life of the parents expresses their convictions rather than their frailties and their instruction of the children in the truths of the Christian faith is easy and natural, for it is but an explanation of the motives which actually determine the behavior which the children see and the conditions of life which they share.
Such a home is quiet, unhurried, without strain and stress.

The feelings and emotions inducted within the children by the contagion of sympathy are unhectic, sound, and wholesome.
The suggestions of such a home are in right directions, its unconscious models worthy of imitation.
Its authority is reasonable, its spirit that of mutual affection, its members are friends and comrades who stick together in work and in play.

In such a home the kingdom of God begins to come on earth,

that Kingdom which will come fully when all men realize that they have one Father and are brethren.
To such a home many of us can look back, and we thank God that it imparted its spirit, not just by precept or instruction, but by the uncounted, unintended vital influences of its atmosphere.
Text from " The Training of Children in the Christian Home" by Luther Allan Weigle.

I was reading a book about how to organize your house (because although I'm not organized, I enjoy reading about how I could be if I bought a label maker, got rid of 50% of our possessions, and didn't have children, or had children who were more like robots...)and I came across this little list. I liked it, at first. Here. Read it. You'll probably like it too.

Common Practices of Good Housekeepers

1. Find a happy medium where everybody is comfortable.
2. Pick things up as you go.
3. Avoid putting things down temporarily.
4. "A place for everything and everything in its place."
5. Mental list of small jobs to do in a few minutes.
6. Stay busy; don't allow things to get ahead of you.
7. Believe it is important to live in a peaceful, uncluttered environment.
8. Love, need, and use everything in your home.
9. Buy fewer, but higher quality, things.
10. Do it now or don't do it.
( Ellen Sandbeck, Organic Housekeeping)

"A Happy Medium"

Then I started thinking about rule practice #1: "Find a happy medium where everybody is comfortable."

Allow me to describe the everybody and how they are comfortable.

1. The husband. Packrat, visionary, creative, tends to accumulate tools (large) and projects. Swings between a perfectionist attention to detail (due to German ancestry) and a spontaneous, committed-to-the-moment unawareness of the mounds of mess accumulating as a result of "the moment." I have a feeling that my lack of organization bothers him but he's too sweet to complain.
2. The daughter, 3 1/2. Nothing makes her happier than cutting one big piece of paper into a thousand tiny pieces of paper, or rolling one big lump of play-dough into a thousand tiny lumps of play-dough.
3. The son, 2. The more trains, the better. The more trucks, the better. The more cars, the better. The more tractors, the better. The more blocks, the better. The more tools, the better. The more floor space covered by aforementioned trains, trucks, cars, tractors, blocks, and tools, the better.
4. The baby, 9 months. His motto: "It's not really a meal unless there's as much on the floor and as much on your face as there is in your belly."

So I'm just going to admit here and now that when it comes to a happy medium, the only person whose comfort concerns me is ME. Is that wrong? Selfish? Short-sighted? Unfair?

Nah. Because there's one common practice missing from that list. It's not a practice so much as a truth. My Daddy used to say this, and he's a wise man. My husband says this, and he is also a wise man.

#11: If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

Furthermore, I think we should all agree that #11 trumps all the other 10 rules practices.

The End.

Image courtesy of D Sharon Pruitt.

I really don't like cooking breakfast. I really don't like eating breakfast. I love food, but the only thing I really want to eat in the morning is some sort of sweet, starchy item (think pastry) that goes with my coffee. Before 8, that's the only thing that sounds appetizing and, alas, it is extremely bad about expanding the love handles.

My usual morning breakfast routine is something gourmet and exciting like Raisin Bran. I am in awe of these Moms who offer all these morning food choices to their kids. Eggs? Omelet? Egg white omelet with shaved asparagus and prosciutto curls? Cheese toast? Scone with marmalade? No problem, I'll just whip up a batch. French toast? Bacon? Oatmeal?

That doesn't really happen in our house, like, ever. I keep going on kicks where I try to cook us up a nice hot breakfast before my husband leaves for work, and I usually do a nice job for one morning. Or two, on a good stretch. Then it's back to bowls of cold cereal or a granola bar and a banana. (That's my other morning standby. )

I usually make myself eat something just because I know it's important for my metabolism and all that, but I don't really like it. I'd actually like to change this and really, I want to get better at preparing an appetizing morning breakfast option for us all. The problem is, I have too many criteria and since I can't find something that meets them all, I just give up and we go back to default.

My Perfect Breakfast Critera:

1. Something low carb. Sugary sweet baked goods really don't seem like a healthy way to start the day, even though muffins do go great with coffee.
2. Something not uber high fat, like delicious bacon or sausage or cheesy omelets. Again, since the point is to start your day on a healthy note, this seems kind of like shooting yourself in the foot. Or the stomach, so to speak. I'm not opposed to eggs, as in plain ole scrambled, so maybe there's something there...
3. Something quick. Did I mention I have 3 kids? Every moment counts in the morning. Every moment is worth its weight in gold. I do not have time for stirring pots of bubbling breakfasty foods.
4. Something easy to eat, so that my 2 kids who are sitting at the bar feeding themselves won't end up wearing most of their breakfast. It also needs to be
5. Something they'll like, because I just am not ready for an "Oh Yes You WILL Eat Your Food" showdown in the morning.  They're not very picky but, you know, they're kids.

So far, like I said, the best options seem to be a semi-healthy cold cereal (like Whole Grain Cheerios or Raisin Bran) or a banana with a granola bar or piece of whole wheat toast.

But that's all so, so boring and blech and frankly I'm just tired of it. I'd like to serve my family something a little more warm and comforting on these cold winter mornings, but I'm at a loss. So I'm polling the crowd. I am desperate for ideas, recipes, make-ahead breakfast ideas, or anything that comes close to meeting my criteria.

Or, alternately, if any of ya'll want to show up around 7:30 or so with a batch of fresh-baked anything, I'll drop critera #1 in an instant and pour you a cup of coffee.

Help? Please? Share? I'm dying here...and we're almost out of Raisin Bran.

Images courtesy of D Sharon Pruitt.

...it is upon the mothers of the present that the future depends... because it is the mothers who have the sole direction of the children's early, most impressible years.

...And they [must] take it [motherhood] up as their profession - that is, with the same diligence, regularity, and punctuality which men bestow on their professional labours.

Nothing is trivial that concerns a child.

{Charlotte Mason, Home Education}

Image courtesy of adreson.

There he stood, my little 1 1/2 year old, with his blond curls on his head and his diaper in his hand. As in, not on his little bottom. And yes, there was poop. And it was Not Good.

I was writing about happiness. I had stopped writing about happiness just to go get that little booger up from his nap. I was needing a break from the sort of thing I kept finding in my research on happiness. Things like this:

Happiness is..."the ultimate state of conscious feeling where all the five senses integrate into a purest form of dreamless love. Happiness flows out of 'FORGIVE'ness and not 'FORGET'ness," says Asesh Datta here.

This is why happiness is so elusive; we've just defined the heart and soul out of it.

How in the name of all that is yellow and buttery are you supposed to make all five senses integrate into a purest form of dreamless love?

First of all, what is dreamless love? Is love normally full of dreams? Is it better without the dreams? How do you get it to be dreamless? How can you tell? Can you be happy with love that stubbornly retains one or two dreams involving giant French fries, a purple tuxedo, and a burro named Roxy?

And how do you integrate all five senses into this sort of state? Let's just refresh on all five senses: seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching. Please explain to me how you can smell dreamless love. Please. I want to know.

Anybody?

By now you're thinking Okay, ha ha ha with the sarcasm, where is the happiness?

Well, it's elusive, like a deer, so quit being so pushy.

I take that back. Happiness isn't elusive. Happiness is hard work. We pretend it's elusive so we don't have to fess up to being lazy. That way we can continue to be unhappy without feeling like it's our own fault, which allows us to continue complaining about the utter injustice of the universe and how we're gonna tell that Happiness Guru a thing or two when we get up there. Or over there. Or through there. Whatever.

Happiness isn't elusive, like a deer. Happiness is big and ugly, like a rhino. Happiness likes stare-downs. Happiness needs plenty of space and care and feeding. Happiness makes great big piles of poop.

Uh, my analogy might have broken down on that last one.

And now I have a story to tell. I finished the line above (the one about the rhino poop, you remember?), and went to wake up my napping children. Well. They weren't exactly napping anymore. They had been awake for an undisclosed amount of time as I recorded my brilliant and vanishing insights into your happiness. That is the price they pay for having a famous authoress a writer as a mother.

I opened the door to my daughter's room. I opened the door to my son's room. I smelled rhinos. Well, I smelled something I now unfailingly associate with rhinos.

Those are the little ironies of life. You get up from writing about happiness and walk in to wake your wonderful, cuddly, cute baby only to find yourself scraping poo off the floor, which was put there by said baby, whom you are currently not referring to as "wonderful" or "cute" and very definitely not "cuddly." Half a roll of paper towels and a bottle of disinfectant later, your happiness is being put to the test. And this is the essay question that stumps you at the end:

Can you be happy while you are cleaning up poo?

I will now defer to my collection of quotations from people much smarter than me:

Abraham Lincoln, who certainly knew a thing or two about cleaning up gigantic messes, said that "Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be."

Benjamin Franklin said that "It is the working man who is the happy man. It is the idle man who is the miserable man," so according to the illustrious Mr. Franklin, me cleaning poo off the floor is a happier person than me sitting around idly in that cushy blue chair, reading a novel and nibbling pistachios. I don't know. I've always admired B.F. but he seems to be falling a little short of insightful on this one.

Here's what I think: happiness doesn't come when you have more fun; fun comes when you have more happiness.

We wait for certain conditions and expect them to provide happiness and we're always disappointed. Reality can never live up to fantasy. Disney World is fun when you're there, but it's never quite as good as it was in those hours of imagining how great it would be to go to Disney World.

You don't imagine standing in line for an hour, melting into a pool of sweat in the shiny asphalt, and wearing a scratchy polyester jumpsuit as a fill-in for Captain Kirk in the make-your-own Star Trek movie event. So you go, you have fun, but it's not as good as the expectation. Too often we let that gap between what we get and what we expect just destroy our happiness.

I didn't expect poo on the bed when I walked into my son's room, but that's what I got. And there was my moment of destiny in the pursuit of happiness: do I curse and mutter? Do I let it ruin my day? Do I yell at my child?

I'm basically a selfish person, and I'd rather be happy than be unhappy. So I stopped and looked and then I laughed. Because, really, what else can you do?

I laughed because it's a great story. I laughed as I took the sheets of the bed, bathed the child, and mopped the floor. (Okay, I might have stopped laughing at some point because you can't just laugh indefinitely; bear with me, I'm trying to make a point.) Here's the point: Happy is up to you. Happy doesn't make the mess go away, but it does make cleaning up any kind of mess better.

Oh, and yeah, I also laughed because it's not as great a story as my friend's, whose daughter not only took off her diaper and pooped but then proceeded to wipe it all over the walls. Comparison isn't always a bad thing.

Images courtesy of mpeterke and lanuiop.

I keep waiting to feel motivated, energetic, high on possibility so I can get going. But it's going to be action that creates motivation, not the other way around. My actions today will create my life for all the tomorrows.
(I keep repeating motivational phrases like that to myself but that's not really working either.)

Zeke is sleeping rather well at night; he usually gets a last feeding at 9 or 10, when I go to bed, and then wakes up once around 1 and again around 4.  I'm hopeful we can work our way past needing that 1 a.m. feeding pretty quickly. It's kind of an unpleasant interruption in the middle of dreams, and it cuts the sleep really short, especially if I don't go to sleep right after I feed him at 9 or 10. Which I hardly ever do...

I'm so much more relaxed with him, far more than with Mara and even more than with Robbie as a newborn. I'm not sure what the difference is. Maybe letting go of some perfectionism. Maybe trusting myself as a mother more. It helps to look at Mara and Robbie and think, "Hmm, they're happy. They're healthy. They're relatively well-behaved. We must be doing okay."

Actually what I'm struggling most with is staying consistent with Mara and Robbie while caring for Zeke. Since they are relatively well-behaved most of the time, I tend to just let little things slide. But then those little things become habitual behaviors, and I know they're not good. How do you stay consistent and motivated when it's not a BIG deal?

Yesterday I could hardly get Robbie to come when I called him, and he was crying (his version of pitching a fit) every time I told him no on anything. We were with my sister-in-law and niece at her house, then out at MacDonald's - it wasn't really the time for a training session. But obviously I've been letting some things go over the last few days if he feels comfortable with ignoring my commands. How do I see that coming? How do I keep myself consistent with him?

Perhaps I will put a Post-It on his forehead today, saying something like, "Hey, Mom, PAY ATTENTION!"

Ideas? Help?

I get us all on a pretty, shiny schedule, and these silly kids won't quit growing. Mara stays awake through at least one naptime, now, wreaking havoc instead of sleeping peacefully. The days of two extended kid-quiet times are over.

Yesterday I kept Mara up in the morning while Robbie napped as usual. I didn't really have a plan, just a vague idea that I would throw some toys over in the living room and she would play quietly while I wrote for a couple of hours as usual. Every person reading this who has a child is laughing right now. You know what happened, or rather, what didn't happen.

She did pretty well at staying in her designated play area; we've worked on that before so it's nothing new. But the playing quietly all by herself - when Mommy is still in sight - oh ha ha.

"Mama, cor?" (color) "No, baby, not now. Mommy's working."

"Mama, wead? Book?" "No, sweetie, not now. Mommy's working."

"Mama, choo choo tree?" (choo choo train). "No, Mommy's not going to play with trains right now."

"Mama! Boo!" (Her little head pops up from behind the bench at the dining table. I can't help laughing. The scenario repeats two hundred times.)

I didn't get much work done yesterday morning. She took a great nap in the afternoon, so I think the schedule works well for her, but by afternoon my mental abilities move at a slug-like pace. I can do general no-think stuff, like pay bills and cook and deal with the mail and answer emails, but actual writing doesn't go too well after 3 p.m. So I took a nap, too. I guess the day wasn't a complete loss.

Last night, after putting the babies to bed and whining to Joe for a bit, I took a nice long soak in the bathtub, because that's what I do when I need to think. (That, or take a long walk, and I was just not feeling up to it.) Here are my options: 1) Quit trying to do anything other than just the Mommy/run the household thing. 2) Continue shutting Mara in her room during morning nap time, giving her a pile of books, and hoping nothing catastrophic happens. 3) Figure out a way to keep her occupied with her own "work" while Mommy works.

Oh, #3 I like! Actually, #1 sounds appealing when I'm tired at night, but I really enjoy writing, web design, and helping Joe with his business stuff; even if I wanted to quit, I probably couldn't extricate myself at this point. And I've done solely the Mommy/Household thing for months on end; while it was challenging and fun, a significant part of me was missing. I got bored. I started to contemplate taking up complicated craft projects that require a large investment in many tiny itty bitty supplies. But I don't like crafting. You make "crafty," I make "crappy." It's just not me.

I like a pile of projects on my to-do list. I like learning new things, writing, reading, thinking, analyzing information, writing, compiling, finding resources, researching, organizing projects, managing, writing.

So. #1 is out, #2 is stupid. #3 is it. Brilliant. How?

I've been reading about Montessori methods lately (you can see my post on it here) so I decided that's what I wanted to incorporate, on a very small scale. Basically, next to my office, set up a play area for Mara with several different activities that she can get out and put away herself, a little Mara-sized table and chair, and provide a little direction when needed. I figured that would work for about an hour or so, then I can let her watch a Baby Einstein, and then rest for 20 or 30 minutes, because she still gets a little tired. (At this point I stopped planning, because my hands were all wrinkly. Time to get out of the bathtub.)

One problem: my current "office" is the dining room table. This morning I tackled clearing off half of the long table Joe uses as a desk in the basement. It's a work in progress (don't look at the far end of the table, past Joe's really huge monitor, to the piles of stuff.) It's workable, though; I have a nice, big, clean work space for laptop, papers, books, phone, big glass of water, camera... And I can use Joe's chair because he's not here in the mornings. Whoopdedoo!

I have a big rug on the floor over to the right. I found a little green table that is the perfect Mara size, and she has a paint can for a stool, plus her own little rocking chair. I'm still working on the activities; today she colored for quite a while, then played with her number and shape cards until I decided it was movie time. Yes, she interrupted me several times, but with a little direction and encouragement she kept herself occupied for the most part.

I'm thinking this can work. I'm hoping. I'm really, really hoping...

Maria Montessori, you better not have made this stuff up.