Just one of those days

With all good intentions, we headed to the store to pick out father's day cards.
2 greats, 2 grands, 1 dadX3 kids (b/c they all suddenly had very different opinions as we stood in the card aisle), 1 for my Dad & 1 from wife (me)
That's 9 cards in total.

Seconds into the trip, my son has picked out his card. A star wars card that...of course...has music. My daugther proceeds to helping by reading all the other cards. And my youngest is squealing about some princess card completely non-related to Father's day. I hand her that card & plead with son to stop climbing the card display. My youngest is the bored with the princess card because she has spotted a card with a tutu on the cover. The squealing starts over, a little louder, a little higher pitch. My son is now using the card display as a catapult to launch himself onto the pole standing in the middle of the aisle.
My older daughter...is declaring she just can't decide.
I begin to browse through the dozens of father's day cards.
"Mom, What are these?" "They are gift cards. Please let mommy read cards"
"Can I have a gift card?"
How random. "Um, No" "Whhhhyyy?? I never get gift cards?"
"Why do you want an itunes or applebees gift card?" "What? No, I want a gift card?"
He's now slurring his whine and stumbling around people in the aisle.
My youngest is content with her wrinkled up tutu card.
My older daughter has narrowed down the choice.
My sweet boy is quickly reminded (like a fish in a bowl...oh, I remember what's over here) that was trying to achieve a goal medal in highest pole climber.
He starts opening up every song that places music.
"Please be still. I really just want to read 3 cards. I should be able to...." I plead. He's a guy, he heard "Please..." and the rest is up to him & his imagination. She said, Please jump higher, please play all the cards.
A visit that should have taken 5 minutes has lingered to a good 15 minutes.
At this point, I know...I should have just left, I should have brought a distraction, I should have been doing something that is listed in all the parenting articles. But I don't. We're almost done and I did not want to return.
I find the rest of the cards and we head to the check out.
The older two walk the opposite direction to admire the cool gift bags.
"Guys, you are going in the wrong direction."
A teenage boy is amused by all the chaos, which made me feel good that someone was amazed being that we cleared out the card aisle.
"Let's go this way" They head my way, then walk in another direction.
"Where are you going now?"
Finally we are all together.
My son zeros in on the M&Ms always nicely placed right at his eye level.
"We just had ice cream as a treat, we are not getting M&Ms"
"Mom!!! I never get M&Ms" His qhine quickly dwindles and he is standing behind me in line nice and quiet...because on my side are the rest of the M&Ms.
He is carefully grabbing four bags of M&Ms.
I think, That's nice, that he is thinking of all four of us...
"I said, No." That made him melt. Literally, melt.
His knees buckled under. his legs turned to wet noodles, the line is moving, it is now our turn and he his creaming and screaming and completely incoherent.
I scoop him up and plop him into the cart.
The pen is the next thing at eye level.
Added bonus this one comes with a cord, a stretchy cord that he quickly figures out can spin around like a helicopter.
Whack. "Sweetie, you are hitting your sister, please stop."
Whack. "Sweetie! Stop it."
I'm signing the card box thing.
the helicopter continues, the person around me is appalled with cross arms, big eyes and a frown.
'
"Sweetie, you are hitting your sister, I said stop it!"
I grab the pen from his arm.
Melt down elevates.

My even keeled son had hit the wall.
Mumbling, squealing, huge tantrum in the car.
"I'm sad that you made a bad choice in the way you acted"
That sounded pretty good even if it went right over his head.
"It hurt my feelings and I'm disappointed. I think we need a rest"

Naps don't happen for most of the crew, but a movie will typically provide a much needed quiet time for everyone.

The evening peaked with similar choices. Too tired to help clean up the toys, not really obeying....etc. My husband tried to explain "You only get one Mom, you need to respect her." I think he threw in a few, she's a great Mom, she really loves you... Everyone is winding down with a summer privilege of watching America's Got Talent, laying in Mom/Dad's bed while we all put away laundry.
I return from my last put away to watch some with everyone to find there is no room on the bed for me. Daughters, husband, son...no room for me.
I decide to sit on the ground.
My son crawls out of bed and says, "Its okay Mom, I'll sit with you."

He curls up in my lap. My husband smiles and says, And he's right back melting Mom's heart. My eyes tear up.
My son turns to talk to me, quickly the competition arrives (little sister). He wrapped his arm around her and said, Here you can come too. then she tries to knock him over and he just melts in saddness. I divert her attention and my husband scopes her up.
I take his blanket and cover our heads.
We sat there for several minutes, hiding away, just talking.

He finally got what he had been crying out for all day, my attention.

My sweet, calm, nice...attention.

Rest

Today we returned home from an out of town wedding. Fun, long day. Dinner ran late, wine kept pouring. The air conditioner in our room was not working when we rolled in at 11 p.m. and we were upgraded to a suite half the size of my first floor. Unfortuately, we were only able to enjoy it in our dreams as we slept on top of the most divine mattress. Even though the bed was ideal for a perfect night sleep, I still woke up exhausted and feeling that last glass of wine.

We arrived to three squealing kids knocking us over with hugs.
Soon the two big kids were away with Dad at the pool and the little one asleep in a nap. It has now been a 2 1/2 hour nap, the longest nap in her history of napping.

I should be scrubbing a floor, folding laundry, unpacking, planning all of the girl scout meetings for our next year, cleaning carpets or a million other things on my running to do list or anything other than just sitting.

But that's what I'm doing. I am just sitting....well with the t.v. on.
I'm too proud to admit that quiet is good for any human.
I have too much self imposed Mom guilt to let the laundry hang out in its basket, but for the first time in seven years I have zero, ziltch, absolutely no guilt about just sitting.

Ah. Nice. Where are those bon bons?

Strength

I remember my stomach on my honeymoon. I was self conscious and nervous to put on the bikini. What was I thinking? I'd love to have that stomach back. After three kids there is this skin. Crunches now hurt everywhere but my abs. They hurt my back and every other overused underdeveloped muscle in my body. I am still determined to find that stomach I apparently left on the beach on our honeymoon.
Is that extra skin necessary anymore?
My kids now enjoy pushing on it while laughing.

It's a part of me. Like the routine of getting everyone up, dressed, fed and to school. Like the laundry. Like cleaning the house. Like running carpool and cooking. It's a part of me.
I should embrace my new body like the experts say, Embrace and love your body.
But let's face it, do we really like our post-baby body?

After my morning at the gym (still seeing no results, but feeling the burn), I realized that sometimes strength comes from just being able to keep up.
The first sense of a spring day had us out walking. Soon I found all of us running.
That's keeping up.
After dinner I like to turn the music up and dance around with the kids.
Being able to do is keeping up with them and giving back to them more than my body sculpting classes ever could.
Carrying laundry up two levels counts as exercise.
Dancing counts, holding & chasing counts.

Moms need to give themselves a break about their bodies.
They have awesome strengthes more than a silly six pack will ever know.

Wild Thing

A trip to the store seems like an easy task for Mothers with their first born. That child rides along quietly unaware that other carts have cars in front of them with beeping horns, moving doors and steering wheels to turn. That child does not know that other children are expressing opinions about what to have. That child does not know that some children walk in the store and others (gasp…) help. That child does not have a sibling to poke, tickle or elbow.
Audrey has two older siblings to watch. While I could say she is mimicking them, her ideas are all her own.
I have a warped view of my reality when it comes to journeys like grocery store trips. I still assume that we will venture through the store with ease and I still get shocked when the outcome is different than my daydream.
Josh & Audrey, Let’s go to the store.
Josh beelines it for the cart with the green car in front. He is almost too big for it, but he doesn’t care. Our six year old would still try and sit in it if she could. He practically runs into three people on his quest to get to the car, saying excuse me the whole time. Audrey lunges out of my arms to chase Josh. Onlookers graciously smile or roll their eyes as if to say, control your young.
I tighten the buckle as tight as I think it will go around Audrey’s body just shy of cutting off air supply.
Josh squeezes in barely, but he’s in.
I realize, like other times before, one of the wheels on my cart doesn’t move quite the same as the others but there was no heading back that would waste valuable time. They are steering, honking and driving away through the fruit aisle. Josh is asking for different fruits and Audrey is grabbing everything that is low. She holds it like a football trying to hide it from the offensive. I scoop down to unclench it from her as she squeals in disagreement. The free cookies have been spotted…right next to the not free donuts that I already mentioned anyway in the car. Josh explains why he needs the bigger one while Audrey babbles about sprinkles. We head into the aisles.
Audrey alternates between laying her back across the door, arms open wide face up to the sky and legs dangling out. In the next aisle, she has figured out how to unbuckle the same buckle that my two older ones won’t attempt to undo. I plead with her, Audrey please sit down. With more muscle than I’d like to admit, a lot of resistance and little bit of elbow, she sits back down. I rebuckle.
In the next aisle, she unbuckles, climbs and is sitting on top of the car screaming Weee…
I plead more; Audrey please let me finish shop. ‘Um, No Mommy, I help” She says in words only I understand. To anyone else its “Uh, O, Omy, I, ep” “Ok, Audrey you may help me”
She takes off running down the aisle. I assumed if she understood what she was saying that she would understand what that meant.
Josh stays in the car now having more room to stretch out his body that has double in size since his fourth birthday. At least it seems like that. Our once picky eater hasn’t stopped eating in three months. He is almost as tall as his six year old sister and is shoe size is almost the same.
Think quick, abandon the four year old driving the suburban grocery cart or push it chasing a toddler who is already faster than me. I abandon the cart since she isn’t that far. I take her by hand and her body goes limp. Now it appears as if I am dragging my child.
I buckle her in the front part, where other twenty-something month olds are sitting, except, I don’t have the huge germ fighting cover. A few more aisles and she stands on the seat with her arms open wide.
We circle around to the dairy section. Josh flees the car. He is again focused on something. I have never seen him so determined when it comes to food, so I don’t stop him. He wraps his arms around crush cups (thank you zach and cody), yogurt smoothies, regular yogurt and a gallon of milk clinched in his fist. Jeff told me the day would come, but I thought he meant in high school. Not to discourage the desire to eat more and kinda healthy, I pile it in. My list doubles in a second.
I need a card for my niece. Audrey screams for the princess singing card. I hand it to her to stop the glass shattering sounds coming from her voice in order to read. Josh decides to help by picking out the Iron Man card for his 6th grade girl cousin. After some gentle explaining he understands and puts it back.
Audrey unbuckles again and leaps out of her seat. I catch her in time and she slides down my puffy jacket. She sees a sign with a dog on it and is on all fours pretending to be one. Adjacent to the dog food is the toy aisle, Josh matter of factly tells me that he’s really sure he cannot wait until Christmas.
A woman steps over Audrey. I pick her up and buckle the front seat one more time as tight as it will go and cover the latch while pushing the cart. I see pacifiers. I quickly place new ones in the cart hiding them under the bread which I now remember why I should grab so it does not get smooched.
We wheel around to the checkout with our cart full including the expensive organic milk (which is really expensive when your kids drink a gallon every three days), meal indgredients, snacks, muffin mix (thinking I will save money by not buying the really good ones at starbucks), Josh’s dairy products popsicles & all the other stuff. “Mom! I have to go potty!”
That sounds about right. We wheel back around, Audrey screams ‘Dora’ at the coloring book on the magazine rack, I about knock over an end cap and maneuver around all the random bins in the aisles.
Josh asks, “Tell me again why I can’t go alone in the men’s restroom?” (Um, because there could be a creep in there)
“Because you are still young enough to come with Mom.”
I decide to use the restroom as well & so does Audrey. While I take my turn, she completely undresses in less than five seconds. I place her on the potty, she finishes and redresses. I turn to grab my purse and she has crawled under the stall to Josh’s side and Josh has crawled to mine. Gross. They switch back. We unlock, wash a lot and return to the cart.
I rebuckle her in the front. Josh returns to his driver’s seat.
Back in the check out aisle, a veteran Mom talks to Audrey while I qualify for an Olympic medal for speed in item retrieval. The vet asks if Audrey is my third. I say yes. She says I had three, two girls and a boy in between. Me too. I ask, almost out of breath, is your third one part crazy. I can hear how horrible that sounds as I say it. She smiles and says, Not crazy…wild. She was and is our wild one. But she’s the best.

We leave with Josh explaining what the picture is made of coke a products, which looks like one of those pictures that pop out after staring at them long enough. We sit at the nearby bench to put on coats & the grocery person gives Josh a sticker for being a good little shopper and she hands me Audrey’s sticker.
Audrey is the best. She is willful. She looks right through me as if to say, I can totally hear you but I don’t care. But she is my little helper, full of charm and smarts. She remembers where everything is (probably because she moved it there), she can get herself dressed (I think she thinks she might get left behind), she knows her shapes and colors and is starting to talk a lot more (which is really lessening the amount of screaming she does).
I understand the phrase a little more…Wild Thing, I’ll eat you up, I love you so.

(Next Post:
I am being Gentle! Can't you tell?)

Just Say It

Sometimes the only thing you can say and should say is the exact thing the other person is probably thinking. At the visitation of my old friend's mother's funeral, I said it.

I approach her as she was surrounded by people giving their respect. I knew she was saying all the right things, crying & explaining that her Mother went in peace. The minute I saw her I started to cry. I wanted to be strong, but I couldn't. And in some way I knew that she needed someone else to cry with. I hugged her and then as she was talking more people approached I grabbed her hand and walked over to a different area. We talked about being old friends & her Mom and she said how much she missed her. I told that I would be here with her every step of the way. I reminded her that she would be strong, she always has been, how proud her Mother was of her and how dear she was to her. I told her it would be hard, tomorrow even harder. And it will be difficult until its a little bit easier.
Then I said it. Not the most profound, educated or eloquent thing to say, but I said it. I said, You know what, this sucks. And she agreed. Because it does.

Sometimes that is best. Just to say it like it is.

Old Friends

An old friend's Mother just passed away. As I discussed it with my sister, we both agreed how important those old friends are. The friends you had in your life as a child through your teenage and college years. Time may pass (as with my friend it has been 10 years since I had seen her), but you know that your old friends are there. I can feel you nodding, you are thinking of those people right now.
They will be there and know just what to say when the moment comes that you needs an old friend.

Now with my own children, I am curious out of these friends who will turn into 'old friends'. Without trying to interfere, I am also trying to encourage the friends that I know may cultivate into dear friends.

Grade School Rules

We learn very early in life there are simple rules to live by. Share. Take Turns. Use your words. Be Nice. Most recently I find myself repeating one I learned as a child. Keep your hands and feet to yourself! I don't know what the need is to constantly be touching things. We can't walk through a store without one or all of kids touching every piece of signage or item on the shelf. We don't make it through the day without someone touching or kicking someone else in the family.
So I say, Please keep your hands and feet to yourself!
I find myself repeating throughout the days each of these simple rules.
And as a grown up, I find myself listening, especially to the first few.

Thank You to the person who came up with these rules! (probably a Mom)