Dear Spooky Stranger Person Coming To Console My Crying Child In The Store

Last night I went to Walmart before I picked the kids up from Grandma's.   I decided to haphazardly do the grocery shopping as I was recovering from my foul mood.  I nonchalantly placed my cage free, no hormone eggs in the cart next to my high fructose corn syrup coated Halloween decorated fruit snacks.  I walked through the store half caring what I was picking up and putting in my cart and half conscious when I saw something utterly disturbing.  A toddler screaming in the grocery buggy and the "oh so kind" stranger coming over to the rescue.  A scene I'm all too familiar with and one I absolutely cannot stand.  Why do people do this?  And because I often try to be on my best behavior, I refrain from speaking much.  So I decided to write them a letter.

Dear Spooky Stranger Person Coming To Console My Crying Child In The Store,

I know you think you are doing the right thing and being all helpful, but you're not.  You're making things worse.  First of all, you're a stranger.  My child doesn't know you.  So while you're leaning in cooing what's the matter, you're likely giving him an anxiety attack and scaring him to death therefore making him scream louder.  Please move away.

Oh and don't offer him candy.  It's a nice gesture, but if I wanted him to have candy I'd give it to him.  Needless to say, if he were sitting in the buggy chomping on a lollipop, you'd likely be ready to throw out some meaningful tip on cavities and protecting his teeth.  No thank you.

And let's not forget those indirect questions that you ask my 2 year old that are directly geared to me.  Are you sleepy, sweetheart?  You want a snack, don't you? 

Do you not suppose I would know these things?  The child that would only nurse on the left side, prefers the Thomas the Train underwear over the Cars, and will only eat apples without the skin and sliced. 

Or say you didn't notice the goldfish crumbs on the both of our shirts or the open box of fruit snacks in the buggy.  He's not hungry and if he were sleepy, I wouldn't have bothered to come to the store.  Please stop assuming these things.

I'm standing here smiling at you and nodding my head politely so I don't unleash the thoughts that are running wild in my head.  The ones that are struggling to keep from coming out of this dangerous black whole called my mouth.  It's hard.  Very hard. 

Maybe you should have walked over and made a joke out of it instead of making me feel like my gremlin child throwing a fit in a shopping cart is a reflection of my excellent parenting skills.

Maybe you should have told me about a time your little one went crazy to lighten mood.

Or maybe you should have just kept walking by understanding that toddlers generally have unavoidable moody meltdowns over things like "I want to run rampant though the store because brother and sister aren't strapped down," "My shoes really are green" and " the letter A IS a triangle."

Otherwise, you're just making the situation worse. You are prolonging the time and now becoming a catalyst in the fire.   Please do me a favor and exit slowly.

Again I know you are only wanting to be helpful, but you're not.  So please spare me and my child another dose of an anxiety attack from your unfamiliar face, or your potentially poisonous candy that you spent more time searching for in your bag than I do, or this unintended insult to my parenting skills.  He can cry. 

And yes, I could leave the store and avoid the scene, but who really has time for that.  I mean I could come back in the 20 spare minutes that I might have after the never ending story of laundry, cooking and cleaning instead of this appointed time that I had chosen.  However, by then you might witness me throwing a temper tantrum.  So this is it.  I'm not backing down.

So the next time you see me and my child has thrown the bag of rice across the back of the buggy and throwing a fit just look and walk away.  Or better yet, come over and give me a high five because in spite of it all, there isn't an open bottle of wine in that shopping cart.

Sincerely,


Your friendly but agitated shopping mama

Have I Become A Desperate Housewife?

 

 

desperatehousewives.wikia.com

 

 

I used to be obsessed with this series.  Actually, I still am.  I couldn’t resist the forever love struck clumsiness of Susan, the glamorous but empty life of Gabby, the eye opening reality that is Lynette and the perfectly imperfect Bree Van De Kamp.  I bought every season.   

But now I have to wonder was I the newest desperate housewife? 

Today was one of those days.  One of those days where I wanted to scream, cry and just give up.  It didn’t result from just today but rather a build up over time and today I just couldn’t take it.  The kids were going crazy and so was I. 

I planned a trip to the University Wildlife Center today.  Well, I kind of planned it.   I woke up annoyed because the kids don’t realize they should stay in the bed until 10 when they don’t have to go to school or that they needn’t reenact Katy Perry’s roar at 8 in the morning. 

The one that never likes to actually eat her dinner is already complaining of hunger.  No not hunger.  She’s starving.   One is busy annoying his little brother therefore causing him to complain, whine and annoy me.  It is entirely too early in the morning for this. 

I managed to make pancakes, eggs and slice apples while one still complained of hunger and Caleb has brought what seems like every toy in the house and drug it across the room.  Not to mention, the house still isn’t clean from the night before as we just did whatever to make it through the day.  I wonder how I was able to manage a classroom full of kids but on days feel like I have no control of my house. 

There have been many times where I’ve wanted to ditch them all like Lynette and just run away for a while for sake of not having a nervous breakdown.  Many times I’ve picked up the phone and called my husband asking when is he coming home.  However, for fear of sounding like an ungrateful wench, complaining of exhaustion and dysfunction, I don’t .  I am having the luxury of staying at home like so many people do not.  It hasn’t come without it’s ups and downs and sacrifices but I haven’t gone back to work.  So why complain, right?  It might be time to update my resume.

Before we had even gotten packed up and gotten to the car, the kids were arguing and complaining about something.  I thought I was going to lose it.  Arguing.  Whining.  Complaining.  Talking.  Talking too loudly.  Mommy.  Mommy. Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy. 

WHAT?!

 I got a last minute call to run and errand for the husband that didn’t bother me.  I’m used to it.  But the kids, so much noise.  I think my noise tolerance is diminishing with time.  Maybe it’s because there’s always noise.  Never silence. 

On the way to the bank, Caitlyn and Caleb were losing it.  What is there to whine about?  I was losing it too.  I was trying to breathe.  I was trying to pray.  I was looking for that rest God promised.  Where was it?  I needed rest.  Seriously.  Most days it’s just me and the kids.    There is rarely the quiet trip to the grocery store alone.  The days where you can actually hear what’s being said on the news.   The days where you’re not tripping over toys that said pick up twice already. 

I’m tired.  All day I’m tired.  I’ve gotten to the kind of tired where it affects your memory.  When you can’t remember what you just said.  Anything.  All the time.  I haven’t been that kind of tired since I was in school full time, working 38 hours a week, off singing this and there with the church choir, attending every function asked of me,  raising two babies, still reeling from a miscarriage and wondering if we would have enough money to cover our parents’ bills for the month.

By the time we reached the wildlife center, I felt like my head was bursting.  There was a tingling in my leg.  No doubt a likely sign that my blood pressure is skyrocketing.  I couldn’t stand the sound of anything.  I forgot school was still in at the University.  No parking anywhere.  This only added to my annoyance.  I parked the car while trying to blot out the constant calling, whining, fussing and talking in the back seat and put my head in my hand.  I changed my mind.  I was over it.  I made the detour to grandma’s.  I needed rescuing.

I try to refrain from saying act your age.  I try to refrain from yelling shut up.  I try to refrain from putting my head in my lap and crying.

But what I did do, was go home and let the kids pack up stuff to take to grandma’s.  I bought pizzas, bread sticks, chick fil a, every kind of overly processed packed filled of red dye #40 junk that a kid could want.  $50 worth.  Screw a budget.  Screw unprocessed.  Screw healthy. 

I desperately needed a break and this was how I was going to get it.  I dropped everything off, walked out the door and breathed.  The minute I walked out the door, there was this huge sense of relief.

I drove home in silence.  No radio.  Just silence.  As I entered the house I tripped over the toy drill Caleb left in the doorway.  I made my way to sofa and plunked down.  I looked at the dishes that needed to be done, the toys on the floor, and the clothes on the sofa.  Nope.  Not today.  Today, for this moment, for these few hours, it was just going to be me. 

                                                                          desperatehousewives.wikia.com      

 

A Toddler + Church = Survival Mode

Going to church with a toddler in tow is sometimes a test of my faith and patience.  I'm sitting in church trying to receive some type of word while silently praying that my little minion won't shout Hallelujah at the top of his lungs and proceed to do a praise dance complete with front flips down the center of the church.  If you are fortunate enough to have children's church AND to have your toddler happily (and quietly) allow himself to be escorted to his classroom then you are one lucky duck.  I, on the other hand, am usually trying to pry loose from a death grip of a tot to be able to walk to my office and /or back to the sanctuary and get something accomplished without having a melt down myself.  This little boy is not having it.  He is right behind me, foot to foot. 

 

I was wondering just what he was thinking about in church.  What did he really think about the whole  service.  I'm a Baptist so we get pretty "krunk" in church. lol  I imagine that is pretty exciting for a little person who gets kind of cranked up himself.  So from a toddler's take, I tried to think about what the service was like to him from our usual service layout.

Praise and Worship - The perfect time to yell, shout, and cut a rug without going to time out.

Choir Selections - The perfect time to showcase his vocal range.  (I thought my child was going to out sing the guest choir one Sunday)

Scripture - My Book! I need to showcase my knowledge of "Super Why"

Prayer - The perfect time to throw a fit about something

Tithes and Offering - He needs to write his own name on his envelope and gets throw it in basket.  Good job!

The Word - Please, please, stay in your room.

Communion - Snack time.  (Literally snatched the cracker out of my hand and stuffed if into his mouth.  Then said, "Hmm.  Tastes good.  Next, proceeded to fight me for the cup.

And don't forget this one

Church Nursery - What am I going in there for?  This is where the party's at.



There are many times that I just thought it would be easier to stay home than to take one or more of my children to church. (while they're little)  So here are a few tips to get those little suckers to sit still and be quiet.  Hopefully.

1.  Pack a snack.  Church runs into snack time and nap time, so sometimes we have a cranky tot on our hands.  If your church has a no eating policy (as most do) and you can't sneak and stuff a goldfish in that mouth (guilty), just quietly leave out and let them have a quick snack.  We like to bring bananas or some other less messy fruit, cheese, and crackers.

2.  Pack a bag.  We pack Caleb's backpack with small cars (launched across the church seats once a upon a time) and toys, books, paper and crayons, smarties and suckers. (bribes)  It's a lot better than the eye liner to draw masterpieces on the back of my light bill, the eyelash curler being used as a martial arts weapon, or trying to find some app on the phone he can silently play.

3.  Let them participate.  Of course kids want to do everything you're doing.  Let them.  We give him that offering envelope and let him scribble his name and put his own money in without help.  We give him a Bible and let him "find" the scriptures.  Whatever works.

 Hopefully, we'll make it out alive without being completely embarrassed by the end of the service.

How To Go Shopping Without Your Kids

Going to the store with all three of my children is an activity that calls for quick tricks, quick thinking and a lot of prayer. I am usually one of the ones ready to have a melt down and lay out on the floor halfway through a shopping trip. So when the rare chance comes when I actually get to go on my own, it's like a vacation. I'm outta here!

The other week, for almost one whole day, I was alone until my other half corrupted his grandma by withholding sleep, bellowing screams of catastrophic proportions, and demanding grandma to "call mama!" So for the day I had alone, I decided to go to the mall and write about it.

How to go shopping without your kids

1. Leave house in complete satisfaction that you didn't have to pack emergency clothes for you or child nor wait for anyone to find shoes or be thirtsy or hungry the minute you decide to leave.
2. Turn radio up loudest it will go without getting a noise violation and proceed to have a one woman concert.
3. Arrive at mall and wait for no one. Thank you, Jesus.
4. Walk into the mall like a BOSS. Refrain from doing celebrity wave.
5. Decide which store to visit first. Your horizons have now been opened. You will actually get to look at clothes on the rack vs. the feet hiding in them.
6. Walk into the store and realize that you're so used to buying clothes for your children that you have no idea where to go.
7. Choose section to rumble through.
8. Lady with gray hair and cane enters. Leave immediately.
9. Refrain from going to the children's section.
10. Put children's clothing item back.
11. Pick an array of clothes to try on. There's no one climbing under the door!
12. Proceed to drop half the clothes on the floor. I must be too excited.
13. Stare at self in mirror and think, "A man must have created these evil torture devices."
14. Put on dress. This looks nothing like it does on the mannequin.
15. Try to fix hair. Maybe that will help.
16. Let's try some lip gloss and eyeliner. Looks through purse to find lip gloss and crushed gold fish crackers.
17. Proceed to try on the rest of clothes. Kind of, sort of like some. Don't buy any. Exit to next store.
18. Find rack of amazing dresses and pull some. No one else is pulling any saying, Here mama.
19. Stop in shock and stare at the black mannequin next to you. Not crayon black, but one that actually appears to have a "skin tone." I suppose I've never noticed from watching the blurs of my kids "walking" in circles around the clothes racks.
20. Head to dressing room wondering why there isn't a size between medium and large.
21. Try on dress and take picture to send to hubby asking if he likes it. Surely he's not busy. Just working, that's all. Lol
22. Search for crumpled receipt in purse and pen because all of a sudden you have this great idea for a blog post on how to go shopping without kids.
23. Sit down in dressing room and start to write until you remember where you are.
24. Get dressed taking notice that you have no suprising food stains on the back of your clothes from a toddler gripping your shirt or being wrapped around your leg.
25. Check phone while leaving dressing room. Hubs likes the dress. Debates about it for a minute, then puts dress back.
26. Heads to shoe section. Oh, how I love shoes.
27. Shoes are on sale and at clearance prices! Jackpot. Let's dig in!
28. Search for size. Finds size. Looking. No. No. Ewww. Nope. No.
29. Go to the smaller shoes. Why, here are all the cute ones. Who in the world has feet this small? Anyway, no one has unstrapped their sandals and started trying on shoes.
30. Exit store. Consider binding feet. Umm, no.
31. Refrain from going into children's store. Walk quickly past.
32. Exit mall. Childfree. Nobody argued, whined, or had a meltdown to stop by the bubble gum machine. It was great. Thank you Lord. Let's go eat.

Oh God, It's School Picture Time!

A time where memories are captured, relived and cringed at upon receipt of the school pictures.

Moms everywhere work extra hard to make sure clothes are carefully chosen, hair is perfectly in place, and that smile is just perfect. You even practice it.

"Show me how you're going to smile on your pictures."

You say, "Smile big!" They look like Hannibal Lecter. "Okay, smile, but don't smile that big." They look like they're about to cry.

So you give up. Just smile, child. Smile. They either smile just right or they have absolutely no idea what you want from them. You have officially confused the child.

Lord please let this child take a good picture. Especially if I have to pay up front. So you send them off praying for a good picture, but this is what goes through your head all day.

"I should have let her wear something else. I hope they don't go to recess. Please, don't pull your hair. I wonder how they're going to smile. Will he forget how to smile? Those shoes don't look that good. I hope they don't get her feet. I know they're going to rush with all the kids they have to do. Please don't do anything that involves paint, markers, or eating. I hope he doesn't mess up his shirt. We might need to do retakes."

All before they've even taken and sent the pictures home. Lord, have mercy.

And that is why I stopped buying school pictures. Okay. Well, other than the fact that they are a billion open packets of pictures from preschool to soccer shots that should have been sent to Uncle Benny in California 10 years ago that he'll likely never receive.

So I started taking my own. I know what they look like. There are no hassle wardrobe changes, and I can do as many retakes as I want. Well, until we all start getting grouchy. Oh, and I can print what I need as needed.

Though, I still want to see what the pictures look like, I really don't care as much. If they're good, they're good. If they're not, it'll be a good laugh.

Why I'm Excited and Not So Excited About School Starting

There are so many things going through my mind as school approaches.  A lot.  From everything that I need to do to get the kids and I ready and everything that is likely to come with this new school year.  It's exciting, overwhelming and to some degree terrifying. 

The reasons I'm excited are easy.

1.  For one, the kids are out of the house!  Well, two of them anyway.  No more whining, complaining, arguing or I'm bored antics at 6 in the morning.  Yes, they are up this early almost every day.  They should have a job getting up this early but I'll settle for school.

2.  The pictures will stop falling off the walls. 

Notice the arrows.  Empty spots where pictures once hung.  And this is just one wall in one room in the house.  I haven't even bothered to put them back up, yet.  Among others.

3.  No one will be arguing over what to watch on tv!

Or some other combination that is likely to drive me mad.  Take turns or turn it off!

4.  Caleb and I can finally get back on some kind of a schedule. 

Summer has been exhausting.  Fun but completely draining and exhausting.  I need a nap.

What I'm NOT so excited about

1.  Getting my time management skills in perfect order!

2.  Getting up early and actually having to leave the house

3.  AJ's going to MIDDLE SCHOOL and Cate is going to the THIRD GRADE! It's so beautiful, amazing, scary and wonderful, and terrifying to watch them grow.

4.  Middle School Kids.  Are we entering into the gates of "Ahhh!"...where kids are all "I hate you", "Leave me alone" while exhibiting all of their hormonal/ frat boy type behavior. 

 

4.  Kids in general.  Let's face it kids are so not kids anymore and some are just plain mean.

 

5.  The carpool line. 

The mornings are horrid.  People running late (me), pajama clad parents, people cutting you off, little jimmy taking 10 minutes to get all his stuff out the car, people "catching up" on life while the line is backed up a mile down the road.  Helllloooo!  And I won't even start on the afternoons.  My car just might shut off from the wait.

 

6.  The meltdown from the backseat when we drop the kids off.

This happens about half the time.  Some times we have good days but then they are days where there is nothing in the world that will appease that beautiful ball of fury.

 

Well, I think I've gotten it all out. I don't have a choice but to jump on board or get left behind.   Of course, it is the beginning of the year.  Everything will start out great until around March.  Then, we're like doing whatever just to get cross the finish line.  Just put the thing in the thing and let's go. 

 

I'm hoping for the best and it's going to be a great year.  It's going to be a great year.  It is going to be a great year.  Speaking it into existence....

 

You fail to plan.  You plan to fail.   

 

And just in case the drama bubble is breached

 

 

HAHA!  You know you laughed!

 

 



Reasons I'm Late

As much as I try, it always seems inevitable.  I'm going to be late.  No matter how early I get up, how soon I start getting people ready and no matter how many times I go through that crumpled mental checklist in my head, it always seems to happen.  So I've figured it out... Why I'm late.  I wonder if these are valid excuses.

REASONS I'M LATE

My child has to poop and we just came from the potty.

I can't find my keys.  They're in my hand.

I said we're about to leave 100 times and no one knows.

The children are outside following the imaginary yellow brick road instead of getting in the car.

This is the perfect time to decide we're thirsty or hungry.

Someone turned the TV off out of spite.

Someone is having a meltdown because it is their job to turn the TV off.

Oh, are we actually supposed to EAT breakfast?

Someone is wearing breakfast.

Breakfast is the perfect time to argue whose banana is the yellowest.

I don't know where my phone is. 

I don't know where the kids are.

Leaving seems like the perfect time to discuss the causes of World War II.

Someone needs to sort legos immediately.

Someone decides they need to find something that has been MIA for 6 months.

One is having a hysterical fit because insects like flies, butterflies, and bees actually live outside.

Where are my kids?

I need to stop and pray.

The kids have stopped to play.

We can't find the baby Moses book.  It's in the bag.

Oh, we need to put shoes on to go somewhere?

Why are you wearing long sleeves when it's 100 degrees outside?

Someone decides they need an immediate wardrobe change.

Someone is throwing a fit because they can't find their 50 cent and God forbid we stop at a store.

I'm still praying.

We're going outside?  Let me get my scooter, bicycle, bouncy ball, hoola hoop, football, and Frisbee.

Take it back.

We are having withdrawal symptoms because we want a pacifier. 

Mommy can't think.  Where are my keys?  They're still in my hand.

Gotta Check Into Rehab!

This has gotten completely out of control.  He just can't stop.  And his withdrawal symptoms turn into screeching wails blazing like wildfires that won't subside until his addiction is met.  I'm at a lost.  I keep trying to minimize his contact.... out of sight, out of mind.  Not so the case.  It's a problem, a big problem.

That darn paci or "Ba" as he calls it. 

This child is addicted to that thing like a meth addict to meth.  Through all the kids, I 've never had one as attached to the thing as he is.  He has to have it.  You would think that as long as he doesn't see it that he'll forget about it, but this here is something serious.  Doesn't the name Caleb mean a "different spirit?"
This child will pat you down like you're at airport security.  He's checking your pants pockets, your jacket pockets, and your pocketbook.  He will even go as far as to say, "It's at grandma house?"  Really?   So when he doesn't have it, withdrawal starts to set in.



You know how some kids cry that soft cry and you can barely hear them.  And their parents are like, "Oh be quiet, I'm tired of that crying."  I'm like, "what crying?"   Caleb is not one of those criers.  He will howl like he's trying to call a meeting with all the wolves in all the forests around the whole Earth to wake the dead.  It's horrible and to make it worse.... he follows you.  Follows you and screams.  Are these my genes?  Was I like this? 

Is this his way of carrying out Mathew 7:7 - Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you.  We need to talk Lord.  I need strength.  As of this moment, right now, this child has been crying off and on for an hour and a half, "MOMMY, I WANT BAAAA!" 

Oh, please let it get better.  We try to only give it to him at nap time and bedtime unless he is completely going insane.  Then, we sometimes give in, so we don't join him in his insanity plea.  The little manipulator. Surely we're going to need rehab to break this addiction.  Rehab for a two year old over a paci.  Lord, help us.

Therapy Session

They're mind blowing little geniuses.  They're little Picassos that color on your walls.  They're interrogators for my scattered brain.  Kids are a little bit of everything rolled up in pint size clothes, untied shoes and most of the time covered in dirt.  (Usually happiest this last way)  Stress Inducers and Stress Relievers.  They can make you feel like you've butchered your marbles and are in need of an immediate psych evaluation.  Then, completely do a 360 and help you reach that place of Zen.  Spurred by an old episode of Everybody Loves Raymond ( I love this show) when the family ended up in therapy,  I came up with this.   

1.  They often make me want to sit down and talk about it.  (the good, the bad and the ugly)

2.  They ask me questions I don't know the answers to or not quite understand. ( Why aren't dinosaurs in the Bible? AND Ma, where is that thing that makes the yellow thing turn?)

3.  They tend to make me face my fears.  (Ma, there's a spider by the door!)

4.  They provide some form of relief, usually comical. ( This doesn't look like invisible tape.  I can still see it)

5.  They usually make me evaluate every decision I've ever made.  (a toddler with a sucker, Chuck-E-Cheese and a play dough)

6.  When we part, I'm usually thinking about our time together.  ( I wonder what those little monkeys are doing.)

7.  They have made me skilled at the art of practicing anger management.  (  Just breathe and count to 10)

8. They often cause me to improve and evaluate my communication skills ( When I count to 3, those books better be off that floor.  OR  Don't want to clean up.  I'll just set this bag of toys in a trash bag by the door.  That should get the message across.)

9.  They encourage me to set new goals, some unattainable.  (  I will make those 2 dozen cupcakes for the bake sale, show up exactly on time and look completely fabulous.)

10.  They often strengthen my relationships with God. ( Lord, have mercy,  I know children are a blessing but please give me the strength to get through this day.)

Pretty Brown Skin

Yesterday, I had my car loaded down with more stuff, if you could imagine,  to take the kids and my mom to the state park.  There were bubbles, frisbees, balls, and a picnic.  I just needed to stop and pick up a few extra drinks. ( I had left the water bottles in the trunk of the car with no ice, and they were probably at boiling temperature. )  Upon re-entering the car from the store, the kids were having a conversation.  "My skin isn't the same color."  "Your skin is darker than mine." "I know, but not darker than daddy's." 

Somehow, they were on the dark skin, light skin thing.  This is starting to become regular.  My little munchkin, Caitlyn, came into the world with beautiful chocolate skin like her daddy.  Being that she was the only one who took after her dad's complexion, she became the little prized "chocolate baby", "chocolate Cate", and "chocolate barbie."  Though a while back, she started having issues about her hair and skin color.  She wonders why her skin is dark and her brothers' is light.

I do my best to try to ensure and instill a confident sense of self in our pretty brown skin, despite a lot of stereotypes and judgments in the world and media.  I even had a white bank teller tell me, while in the bank with my kids and 3 month old Caleb, that Caleb's "coloring" was just perfect or the teacher that questioned if his skin would darken and get "regular."  There is an issue if you're light skin, dark skin or in between.  I was glad that my other children were not in ear shot and I was in too much of a shock, then, too respond.  It's a different story now.  I'm honestly still learning how to deal with this but there are times I wish God would cover his eyes and plug his ears.  We blame a lot of stuff on just not knowing, but a big reason for a lot of problems is just not thinking.   

We try and combat these negative views and remarks by always having books, pictures, art and toys in our house that showcase black people in all shades of their brown skin.  We always let the kids know how beautiful and handsome they are.  However, it really struck a nerve after watching a documentary "Who Is Black In America?" some months ago.  There was a little girl who wanted to be light skinned because she thought lighter skin was pretty and dark skin was ugly.   I wondered if my baby felt this way and how much because she talked about it a lot.  We think we go through a lot as adults, but children don't even know how to handle the emotions of life.  It was heartbreaking.   

Before I could join in on the topic, though, the subject had changed and they were happily chatting about the park.  I decided to let it go at the moment, but I make sure that my little girl knows she is beautiful, precious, and "wonderfully made" in her own pretty brown skin.

(source: pinterest)

Our Second Home

We all have that place that we call our second home. It may be a friend's house, your mom's or your favorite vacation spot. It's that place where we usually spend most of our time when we're not at home. Our second home is full of memories and household treasures. It is a place for family meals, quick changes, and story time magic. It is what keeps us together and also what makes us fall apart. No other thing could take it's place.

Our car. We practically live in it when we are not at home. It is usually stock piled with some of every odd and end. It has become our own personal kitchen and dining area, an on the go snack shack, where food is dropped, rubbed, crushed, and smeared into the carpet. The family room consists of rows of grape juice stained, please identify the color, gold fish, coral reef-crusted seats. Games of all sorts and our version of books-a-million entertain the kids from their designated areas on the floor.

The bathroom is also located here. A personal bathing and changing station, because "Mama, pee-pee potty right now" while we are in the middle of nowhere could not wait. Then, the seats are carefully divided into each kids room because "I don't want him touching me" is currently an issue. In their "room" is some of the stuff they've brought into the car and forgot about (so have I)- jackets, the Beginner's Bible, game cards, pencils, notepads (they have both declared they want to be artists) and socks(the littlest one throws them off in minute).   Our second home also hosts a storage shed in back. Here we manage to keep an umbrella, a fully equipped Taekwondo bag, a sword, a stroller, a ball, a zip lock bag of leftover birthday party favors (Easter egg stuffers), and stuff that actually belongs here like jumper cables, a jack, and a spare tire.

Oh, but don't worry there is a trash can. Any mom can probably attest to the fact of taking a kid's car seat out of the car and realizing that they have their own discovery center at hand. While cleaning the car out today kid free, (thank God for grandma's) I managed to find all kinds of buried treasure. There were shark bitten gold fish, cashew halves and pieces, smooshed raisins, 78 cents, empty lollipop sticks, orange peels ( no doubt put there by my daughter - at least she put them in a zip lock bag), tissues probably used and baby wipes.  See.  The total package. 

Though this is our second home, I don't really like spending time here.   Maybe one day, this home away from home may actually resemble some luxurious spa rather than some bottom less pit of the never ending story.  And on those days, I'll turn up the music, relax, and enjoy the ride. 

The Lies We Tell Our Children

I value the truth, I really do.  I even detest a liar, especially when someone is lying about very simple things.  Those little "white lies." Why would you even lie about that?  Who cares anyway?   So why, then, do we as parents embark on a stock piled high journey of lies with our children?  I try to make sure I tell my children the truth most of the time, but we've all been there. 

Those I don't want to hurt his feelings,  It will crush her spirit, and he's not ready lies.  Those I've just about had it, can't take it anymore, just do it already times of desperation lies.

There are times when those little white lies just make the days run a little bit smoother (the tooth fairy must have had a very busy night and will come by tomorrow), a little bit happier ( yes that picture looks just like daddy), and a little more calmer (the quiet game is really a game. It is.).  When in reality I just forgot or went to sleep or both, I can't even identify your drawing, and my brain is shutting down.  I need peace. 

So here's a few more I'm guilty of:

And here's a few more

And then we wonder why our houses are filled with little Pinocchios and we get responses like these:

1.  I can't eat.  My arm is broken.

2.  It wasn't me.  It was another boy named AJ in another class.

3.  It was someone else who tied my shoe strings together.

4.  I didn't steal his money.  God left it for me.

5.  Jesus said I could have a piece of candy.

 

6.  My daddy killed a bear in the back yard. (to the preschool teacher)

 

7.  I...um...had...umm...when...umm....see......

 

 

And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."

John 8:32

 

 

CALL ME MAYBE...UMM, NO

Being a mom has made me very talented over the years.  I've learned that I have the ability to perform yoga stretches while reaching into the backseat of a moving car, trying to find a sippy cup or pacifier. I've learned how to eat half a meal, standing up, while washing dishes, in about 5 minutes, and I've developed an uncanny ability to decode the contents of poop and draw a reasonable diagnosis. Yes, I 've been very blessed to have learned so many new things.  However, talking on the phone is not one of them.  Seriously, talking on the phone with kids in the house is completely pointless, in my opinion. First of all, who has time to talk on the telephone?  I don't.  I don't think I do.  Calls seem to come in at the busiest time of the day, the evening.  I'm trying to cook dinner, help with homework, clean up an activity set out to occupy the toddler so I can cook dinner, throw in a load of laundry, put up clothes and restore some order to the house.  There is way too much activity going on.  The only soul I need to call on is Jesus.  Help Me Jesus!  My already scattered brain is overcrowded and then the phone rings.  Somehow, I am supposed to be able to think clearly and function.  Most of the time, it just doesn't happen that way. I'm tired and I'm cranky and the last thing I want to do is be on the phone. 

FOR THESE REASONS:

1.  The phone is actually my toddler's. (I'm just borrowing it.)

2.  My other children believe the phone is merely a means to get their attention.  ( A shipment of q&a is on the way)

3.  I have no idea what you are saying. (Do you hear that tot in the background?  Yeah, I do too.)

4.  I will agree with you and have no idea what you are saying. ( I can't hear you. Not at all.)

5.  I usually have no idea what I'm saying. ( Can you hear me now?)

6.  I will say anything just to get off the phone. ( Because I still have no idea what you are saying and a mini war is about to break out in the kitchen- over half-eaten pencil erasers)

This pretty much sums it up.  One day, I will rejoin the forces and talk again.  (Besides, I need to make use of this $100 phone bill)   Until then, just send me a text message.  I can handle that.

Renewed Life - Toy Edition

Once upon a time, children were content and happy playing with just sticks, mud and rocks outside in the great outdoors.  Over time it's evolved into toys that push, pull, and stack high above the coffee tables and come crashing down like thunder.  And then toy evolution changed again.  The world was introduced to these flashing lights, ear plug causing educational and fun toys.

I do love toys, though.  They do all kinds of fun stuff.  You push a button, turn a knob, pull a switch and something cool happens.  I've bought a few over the years, okay more than a few, and we've had a blast with them.  But over time, like vegetables on a child's plate, some of our toys have been pushed to the side.  They are lying helplessly in bins and baskets praying for someone to lay hands on them and bring forth a renewed life.  There are times where we will reach out to them and bring their problems to the altar.

      Behold, the Walking Dead.   No batteries.   Every kind of toy, game, gadget, etc needs some kind of battery.   I dread buying batteries.  And what's even worse, they are not created equal. One size does not fit all- AAA, AA, C, D.  Oh, and let's not forget the little round ones.  They are all adding to my ADD and my DID- Disappearing Income Disorder.   Batteries are expensive especially when everything needs one.  These toys better pray for deliverance.  Shall we?

Let us Pray

Lord, I come before you as a pure of battery acid, humble spirit

I ask that you bestow upon me life so that I may live more abundantly

And in fulfilling my spiritual life

I ask that you not bring death upon the pocketbook of another life.

Amen.

  
  I broke down and bought some batteries, $16 worth, and here's our happy camper.  He played with this thing all of 3 minutes before he decided it would be better as a seat.  Of course, I snapped a picture.  Kids, I tell you.

My Life and Motherhood

Just for laughs.  This is the life now and I can relate to Every One!


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I Don't Do Dishes

Years ago, I used to look like this. I actually liked washing dishes. It was calming and relaxing, it made your hands baby bottom smooth, and your nails looked like you had just gotten a manicure. Besides, there were only a few then. Two plates, two cups, a bottle or two, a plastic kiddie plate, and a few utensils. (back when there was only one child) But now that there are 5 of us...and everybody seems to want to eat ALL THE TIME! My kitchen has become a bustling dine-in only eatery with, at times, one employee. The dishes have warped and multiplied into a pride eating mountain of madness. I can't stand it. I often stand in the middle of the kitchen looking at all the dirty dishes and busting gut bellies and think, "Well, the laborers sure are few. Why are all these folks reaping my harvest?"

My love for cooking has quickly taken a hit from my not so loved labor of doing the dishes. Somehow I will manage to clean almost everything in the house to avoid that horror. Of course I want a clean kitchen, but I just wish I could hire a maid to do that part. I've tried letting the kids perform this chore; however, I think they've watched "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" one too many times. You know the one where Roderick is showing Gregory how to get out of chores. Just do it completely wrong. I guess they don't like doing dishes either, especially when you have these:



THE SEVEN WORST DISHES TO WASH

1. BLENDER-SIMPLY BECAUSE I HAVE TO TAKE IT APART
2. FOOD PROCESSOR – FOR REASON ABOVE
3. A WOODEN SPOON – WITH CRUSTED FOOD ON IT.
4. A GRATER – ESPECIALLY AFTER SHREDDING CHEESE
5. THE CROCK POT – AFTER I FIGURE OUT WHERE TO DUMP
6. A DISH CONTAINING HOMEMADE MACARONI AND CHEESE
7. ANY BAKING DISH WHERE SAUCE, DRESSING, MARINADE, ETC WAS USED ON MEAT.


I think these are probably my worst ones. We weren't lucky enough to have a dishwasher and sadly I had to take on that grease-laden burden. However, in the near future when we are house hunting, one of my first questions will be "Where the hook-up?"

What A Day: Part 2

The kids were already bickering when they got into the car as I picked them up from school. I need to invest in a good pair of earplugs. I don't understand how you can have so much to fuss about in two days worth of living. Sometimes I think about dropping them off at the police station on the way home. A little scared straight, hmmm. Just kidding. That would scare the devil out of me too.

And I don't know what was going on during homework time. It was like we were playing "Where in the world is Carmen Sandiago." No pencils, no paper, no AR books. "I don't know where I put it." "Oh, I didn't know we were supposed to be doing homework." Oh, Jesus, help me. I'm already trying to wash a karate uniform top (by hand) that I just washed yesterday because Caleb decided to have a super soaker, juice squeezing party in the backseat. Who in the world came up with the great idea that kids karate uniforms should be white, anyway? The universal death color trap of kid's clothing. You can't possibly expect anything on a kid or youself to stay white for more than 10 minutes.

Realizing that there was no way we were going to make it to karate on time, I decided not to go. We still didn't have homework completed. Tears over sloppy handwriting, pouting over pencils and a toddler stealing spelling words are driving me nuts. I often wonder how I managed to work in the "real world" and keep it together with this circus. It seems now the circus has clearly taken over and the once put together working woman has now been thrown through the ring of fire.

We ended up finally leaving to run errands around 5, praying for smooth sailing. I also needed to wash clothes. I've been going to the laudromat because my poor washer died on me, but we managed to revive it. The day after we did, the dryer died, then about two weeks later the washer finally went on home to be with Jesus. Things always seem to tear up, break down and fall apart when you are working overtime trying to save money. (and get out of debt)


The laudromat was overflowing, and I swore to never go back in the afternoon. (After this weekend, I hope to never return.) While waiting on the clothes, we went to the grocery store. Oh, how I wish I didn't have the kids with me. Everything is so busy today and they were restocking at the store. Bad combination. Caleb insisted on a race car buggy and Aj pushed. After a trip to the potty, we went to turn down an aisle. And this is what did it. The tip of the buggy hit a 5 row freshly stacked wire shelf. I could see it happening. I was watching a horror movie in slow motion and anticipating the downfall of the victim, played by me. I turned and lunged into the shelf, arms outstretched to brace myself and it. I managed to push it back up but not before being swallowed alive by about a 60 bottles of shampoos, conditioners, and hair sprays that my own hair probably desperately needed. Holy Crap. I was at a loss for words. "Lord, what have I done?", I thought. These heathens! And then AJ says, "Whoo, at least the whole shelf didn't fall down."

AAAAAHHHHHHH! Is that called seeing the good in things? I wanted to go off. Somebody was about to hear the message I was ready to deliver. It didn't even matter that it was an accident. All that mattered was that it happened, something else that was going to litteraly send me to nut house. If that wasn't bad enough, in the checkout line Cate started singing Shekinah glory "Say yes." Say yes! Say yes! All I can say is no! My mind says no! My soul says no! Everything is saying no! No I shouldn't have come in here with yall! I should've stayed home and let you eat biscuits and drink water!

What A Day

It's been some kind of day and it's not even over yet. I woke up at 7 this morning because the alarm (my phone- used for everything but communication purposes)is apparently going through some kind of phase with the time change. It currently reads 7:04a.m. The alarm just went off an hour ago. Thanks. I've taken the battery out and it is still confused, so we were 20 minutes late to school. Then, Caleb and I turned into the actual art project for the day as he covered himself (in 5 seconds flat) in green paint we were using to make a handprint shamrock, that doesn't look like one. Wardrobe change.

I later attempted to clean up while he attempted to reorganize what I was cleaning up. Okay, we are just going to sit down for now and do our "circle time" activities. He hurried off to the kitchen and retrieved the marshmallows (his rewards). I was still sleepy. I wondered why God decided we needed to "Spring Forward." We get too comfortable in the same place, maybe, same situations, same problems.

Snack ended up burried in the carpet becuase we can't be still. Then, he had yogurt down the front of his shirt which I then spilled down my pants leg and the floor because the little munchkin decided to bite a hole in the middle of the gogurt. Another wardrobe change.

I needed to run errands but by the time I had changed Caleb's clothes twice, cleaned the potty, changed my clothes, gathered up clothes to wash, vacuumed and packed his bag, I was tired and ended up staying home. After playing on starfall.com and reading baby Moe (Story of baby Moses- Caleb's new obsession), we were ready for a nap. Thank God.

I would have liked to took a nap during this time, but instead I tormented myself by remembering everything I still had to do.

I Do This And No, I Don't Feel Guilty

Okay, I have another Top 10 list, well 11 list.
We all do things that we are guilty about later, but what about the things we do that we are not guilty about. These are some of the top 11 things I do and I don't feel guilty about doing them. Maybe I should, though.

1. Letting my kids play Ruzzle as a literacy activity.

2. Using those address labels that come with donation pleas without donating.

3. Hardly ever cooking breakfast on Saturdays. They can eat cereal.

4. Using my phone as a game system rather than for communication.

5. Getting a magazine just to go to the bathroom.

6. Going to the bathroom just to read the magazine.

7. Giving the kids chores that I hate doing. They help create the mess, don't they.

8. Waiting until the kids go to bed to fix a bowl of ice cream or eat cookies simply because I don't want them to eat it all.

9. Telling the kids their clothes don't match, even when they do, because I'm not sure I like what they're wearing.

10. Getting the husband to watch the kids while I go to the store, just so I can blow the speakers out in the car.

11. Bringing toys and bubbles to the doctor's office that usually ignites a riot in the waiting area. They should have a child's play zone in there. Apparently, someone has not "waited" with a toddler.



Of course, there are more. Probably a whole lot more, but these are just a few. What are yours?

False Prophet?

AJ - Ma, I can't breate in the bathroom.
Oh Lord.
Me - What?
AJ - I can't breathe in the bathroom.
He can't breathe in the bathroom but he can breathe everywhere else in the house?
Me - Why can't you breathe in the bathroom?
AJ - I don't know

My child has a habit of developing imaginary "sicknesses" every morning. It's always something. I have almost refrained from showing him any real attention and have put on my best Doc McStuffins performance. I look him over, perform a not so thorough exam and ask about his symptoms. Diagnosis - Probably just a bad case of attention seeking syndrome.

Me - Maybe you haven't quite woken up yet. Go ahead and get ready.

Five minutes later...
Aj is standing in the hall playing.

Me- Do you feel better now, AJ?
AJ - Yes.

Crisis averted. Beware of false prophets.