Parenting 102

I started this post a couple of months ago but then never got around to finishing it. Until today.

I know I've been neglecting this blog but I'll try to keep more up to date going forward. And in case you're wondering, I'm still not at Day 30 of the shred. And yes, it's been way over 30 days since I started. And yes, it's called "The 30 Day Shred". And yes, sadly I am still flabby.

Anyways, carry on. Hopefully I'll be back with more. I am not making any promises, but I'll try. And next time I might even have pictures!

***

I'm just not good at being a stay at home mom.

No phrase irks me more than this one.

It's an easy way to say that you just might not want to be a stay at home. and nothing is wrong with that. I just wish people would say what they mean without masking it in a cloud of faux self-deprecation.

Say what you mean - if what you really mean is that you don't like staying home and would rather work, just say it. Say what you mean instead of hiding behind words you think will stave off judgement. Because you know what?

You will be judged, no matter what.

Judging. It's what people do. Is it right? No. But is it a natural human reaction? Yes. We tend to judge people when their choices differ from ours, when it may be something we would never do or even consider. But God created us all differently for a reason. Life is not a simple puzzle of squares and circles. We are given twists, turns, bends, and improbable obstacles and we have to find a way to make it work. As parents, we figure out what works for us and we stick with it. But others feel that their way is the way and proceed to let it be known to the world.

In the media, no one gets more beat up and judged than mothers. Mothers who work put their careers ahead of their family. Mothers who stay home are stunting equality and slowing the movement of womens rights. Moms who breastfeed are harpy hippies. Moms who formula feed are detached and uninformed. Instead of building one another up, we are tearing each other down, many times as reassurance to our own choices.

Personally, I am confident in the choices I make for my children and my family. Much of this comes from the experience of raising three small children - with each child comes more wisdom and more "ah ha!" moments. But I have made my share of mistakes. I have heard my share of criticisms. But from these, I learn. I change. I grow. I make my choices and I do the best that I can - whether it be as a working mom or a stay at home mom. I do the best I can do.

And the best that I can do should be more than good enough.

Either way, it's still work. And Day 9.

At small group yesterday, some of the girls were talking about the struggles of being a working mother. Now, I quit my job almost two years ago to stay home with the kids, so I've definitely had to think much less about the never ending strife of a working mom. However, the four plus years of being a working, commuting mom definitely took its toll on me. So when Macalla asked how the working mom does it, I answered with the only thing that made sense to me:

"You do neither job particularly well"

I remember struggling to focus at work, zoning out during meetings, passing up opportunities of promotions and more challenging work. I'd rush through the day in order to catch the first train that left the city. Once at home, I'd obsess about cleaning up the trail left by the kids, husband and mother-in-law. I would attempt to spend quality time with the children, while also craving solace and peace in my room, away from the bustle and mayhem of my chatty  MIL. At work, I felt unmotivated and sluggigh. At home, I felt leeched and worn. At neither place was I at my best. At neither job did I excel. At neither job did I even really try. I had just barely the energy to be good enough. Good enough was not really acceptable at my job and my children definitely deserved more from their mother than just mediocre, just good enough.

So when I got pregnant with Wesley, I decided that I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't make myself wake up daily at 4:15, to begrudgingly ride the train to Seattle. To sit in an office instead of playing outside with my kids. To have my elderly MIL care for three children. I couldn't go through life half assed anymore. I wanted to be able to be a good mother to my children, a better wife to my husband.

To clarify, I never felt like bad mother because I worked. I worked out of necessity and even at times I felt a sense of pride in my job. I didn't necessarily choose to work but I know many women who do. I hold no judgement for mothers who work  and who have successful, lucrative careers and are the main breadwinners of their family. In fact, I am in awe of women who are able to reach that level of career success with happy, healthy families, and yes, I do in fact know many women who have been able to balance their lives in this way.

But for me, I craved the time at home with my children. I went back to work when Evelyn was 12 weeks old. Oliver was 11 weeks old when my maternity leave ended. I didn't want to have to leave another tiny baby at home while I went off to a job I didn't really even particularly love. I wanted to be the one to wake up and make breakfast for my kids, to drive them to preschool and to put them down for naps. When I was working, I felt like I had no control over what my  kids did during the day. No matter how much I nagged my MIL or husband, they just couldn't do things the way I preferred. I just wanted to be home with them full time.  So in April 2008, I quit my job and became a Stay at Home Mom.

And so here I am.

The life of a SAHM in itself has been a challenge and let no woman tell you that it is easy to stay home all day long with your beautiful, demanding children. That being said, the role of a SAHM is none the easier just because I'm not leaving the house everyday to work. I just get to work in sweats. The pay kind of sucks though.  But I get paid in memories right? Wah Wah. Ha. But I'll save the woes of the SAHM for another post.


***

Day 9: I'm getting into the groove with Level 2. The hardest obstacle for me is trying to get Oliver out of my way as I attempt some pushups. He was kind enough to support me during the workout and tried some of the moves himself. Very cute.

Next is Level 3. I'm scurred...

BTW, I just made some brownie spoon pudding and ate about 1/4 of it. OH YEAH.

Life lessons, one day at a time.

As we were leaving the playground, I spotted a mom walking towards the park with her little girl in tow.  The girl might have been 3 or 4 years old, wearing a fuschia sweatsuit and rainbow tennis shoes. I felt bad that we were leaving just as she was arriving, for she looked like she wanted to play with all the kids.

The mom sat down on the curb as her daughter continued walking towards us to the slide. As we passed her, I let out a cheerful hello. I turned to Evelyn, expecting her to follow in response but she simply stared at the girl and looked away. I tried coaxing her to say hello, to at least be polite enough to acknowledge her existence but for some reason, she kept avoiding eye contact. Feeling slightly embarassed for myself and sympathetic towards the little girl, I said goodbye and we all kept walking on to our car. As i opened the doors to hoist everyone inside, I asked Evelyn why she hadn't said anything to the little girl and her answer shocked me.

"I didn't like her face", Evelyn told me matter of factly as she stepped inside.

"Why? What didn't you like about it?" I asked.'

"I didn't like it. It was dark" she replied back quietly as she nestled into her booster seat

This is the part where a thousand tiny little knives plunged their way into my heart.

The little girl was of Indian descent, dark face, dark hair. Not unlike people she's seen before but nevertheless, too dark to be acknowledged by my five year old daughter.

Shocked, I immediately admonished her for saying and thinking such a thing. The next few hours were spent having a terse discussion with Evelyn, trying to explain to her why what she said was inappropriate and in fact, wrong. I explained to her how she might not realize it, but that we are different to most people just like that little girl at the park is different to her. I explained to her about not judging people based on their outer appearance but by the kindness of their hearts. I tried my best not to scold her but deep down, I was very hurt and angry and ashamed. How could my child possibly feel this way, let alone know to feel that way about anyone?

If there is anything John and I try to instill in our kids, it's kindness and acceptance. We both know how it felt to grow up being the minority and even in this day and age know what it is like to be the only yellow face in a sea of white. But we don't want her to ever feel ashamed of who she is, who she was born into this world to be. We want her to know she is a Korean-American. She has a culture and values different from many of her school peers. We want her to be proud of who she is, always.

At the end of the night, after I had exhausted all of my efforts to explain to her what had happened, I told her simply:

God made us all different. Some people have black hair, some people have yellow hair, some people are brown, some people are light. Some people are nice and some people are bad. And yet, God loves us all because He made us all. So we have to try to be like God and love everyone, regardless of what they look like or what they might do.

My explanation may sound elementary but she is in kindergarten so it's rather apropos. I guess after trying to always overanalyze and criticize the world in which we live, sometimes the best answers are the most simple.

I think Evelyn understands why I was so upset and I hope she realizes what I was trying to teach her. I did my best to turn the situation into a teaching moment and certainly hope I succeeded but there is still a lingering pang of sadness in my heart. I just couldn't believe that something so mean had come from my daughter's thoughts.

Maybe I'm overreacting to the situation since she is still just very young but I think yesterday's incident was a stark slap in my face. It was a reminder to all of us that it is not the responsibility of the school, teachers, media or caregivers to teach our child important life lessons and morals. It is our job as parents to mold our children, to teach them well......and to lead the way...?

Hmm... that sounds like part of a song doesn't it? Whitney Houston, anyone?

All I have left to say is this - This parenting job, it is really challenging. And really important. And quite possibly the most important job I'll ever have.

So I better not screw it up.

Like the Bat Mobile, just way less cooler.

We just bought a minivan.

And you know what?

I like it. I really like it.

I KNOW!

Six years ago.... oh hell, six minutes ago I would have never, ever imagined myself driving a "mommy mobile" and now, at the tender age of 32, with three kids ages 5 and under, I am the confused proud owner of a lovely Honda Odyssey. I'm not even sure how it happened really. I wasn't even quite sure of my feelings when I opened the garage door and saw the thing parked in place of our trusty pathfinder.

But when I stepped into the van, I knew.

I knew it was the car for us. Because I was standing. STANDING in the vehicle. With room to spare. Seats far enough apart where the kids couldn't touch, bother, poke each other. Automatic sliding doors. Six cup holders in the front!

What... I get thirsty.

Not to mention enough passenger space to fit more people if need be. Space for the stroller plus other random junk in the back. Just more room. More everything!

And now, days later I'm finding myself creating reasons to leave the house. I stare longingly at the car keys, imagining all the kids piling easily into the van, settling themselves in their seats as I swiftly buckle them in. I practically jump at reasons to run to the store now, whereas before I'd wait until we'd have one egg and 2 ounces of milk left before I left the house.

I'm sure this is what people call the "new car honeymoon phase" - a phase I never thought I'd be in. But look at me now.

Just look at me.

I don't even know who I am anymore. But that's ok. Because now I can get 28 miles to the gallon on this sucker.

Again. Who am I? Yeesh. Just don't be surprised if you find me rolling up to church in denim relaxed fit capri pants, slip on keds and one of those korean mom visors.

I'm just saying.

Wesley and Elliott

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to watch my nephew Elliott for a couple of days while Lisa and Pat got some packing and cleaning done. Btw, they sold their house.

WHOO! *wild applause*

Guess where they'll be staying for at least the next month?

*crickets*

Yup, you guessed it. The three of them plus the two dogs will be holed up here with the five of us plus my brother. The body heat alone should warm up the house. Maybe I should turn the heat off. Save some money, you know.

Anyways, the three of them stayed with us all weekend. Friday and Saturday I was left home alone with four kids so Lisa and Pat could take care of some "house things".

Now, yes... three of the four are mine so one would think the extra kid wouldn't be so difficult right?

Have you even met Elliott?

Kidding, kidding. He's my nephew and I love his pillowy thighs. It was just quite a challenge taking care of two babies very close in age. My biceps got a workout everytime I had to carry both of them up and down the stairs and I had to alternate feeding each kid between bites. It was like poopy diaper tag team and one would crawl away while the other one foraged in the garbage can. I wouldn't say it was.. difficult. I just had to be more alert than usual especially because Elliott is a daredevil baby. I'd often find him hanging out on the first step of the stairs holding on to the baby gate while shaking it like prison bars.

ANYHOO, overall the weekend was fun. VERY LONG, but fun. I don't get to spend much time with Elliott, or my sister for that matter, so it was nice to have them here for a couple of days. Who knows what it'll be like when they're here for longer than 3 days. I hope the claws don't come out. Although, I'm pretty sure they will.  ROWR!

***

Very random pictures of the babies.

Hey baldy! *cackles*

This ear lobe is GIGANTIC. *snickers*

Playing in the kitchen. There's nothing cuter than babies in footed pajamas.

Honestly, this picture of Wesley is so not cute that it is actually kind of...cute.

Slowing down.

I'm always hearing how moms (and dads) struggle with finding the life/work/extracurricular activity balance. These days it seems like kids are overscheduled to the max, starting at the ripe old age of 2 yrs old.

Preschool. Soccer. Dance. Music. Church. Playdates.

Parents are racking up the miles on their minivans and SUVs shuttling kids back and forth. and back. and forth.

For some odd reason, I find people actually ask me how I manage to handle everything - three kids, a husband with insanely long and irregular hours, a large house to clean, buckets of laundry to wash. And you know how I manage to do it?

It's because I don't do anything else.

Now, I have nothing against having my kids involved in extracurricular activities. In fact, if our financial and childcare situations were a bit more flexible, ideally I'd love to have Oliver playing soccer, or Evelyn in swim lessons. Or Wesley in theater classes because dude is dramatic these days! Because I don't. But not only because we really can't, but because I really don't want to.

I think it's great that my friends have their children involved in things outside of school. I believe it allows children to let loose, find what interests them and also gives them hobbies.

However.

My children are young. Ages 5, 3 and 1. The oldest attends pre-k three times a week from 8:30-3. While she's in school, I'm able to spend more quiet, quality time with the boys. When the youngest is sleeping, I get some much needed and rare one on one time with the middle child. When she's not in school, we usually spend all day at home together. I let them play, color, do whatever they want. I want them to enjoy this time of youth and innocence. I want, for a fleeting moment, for life to slow down, capture my babies in the moment. Because I know soon these moments will be few. They'll grow older, become more busy, have less time for family, more time for friends.

I'm in no hurry to get them out there in the world before I'm they're ready.

Illness sucks.

Tending to a sick child is one of most stressful things we'll ever face as parents. Not only do we have to constantly wipe and sanitize every surface of our home every five minutes, we have to worry about spewing bodily fluids, hacking coughs and lots of tears. Having three kids, I have to worry about this triple time because not only am I trying and hoping that John and I will avoid the sickness so we can adequately care for the children, we have to try and ensure that the other children will not get sick. I haven't yet decided which is worse - all of the kids being sick at one time or the tag team method my children usually employ of one after the other after the other.

This time around it started with Evelyn. Tuesday morning she woke up complaining about how she wasn't feeling well but she did not have any other symptoms besides the whining and let's face it, if whining were a symptom, there would always be something wrong with all of the children in the world.

I thought about keeping her home from school but Tuesday was picture retake day and there was NO WAY she'd be missing that.

Priorities.

She was fine throughout the day until a couple hours after I picked her up in the afternoon. By that night she was running a high fever and had body aches and chills. I spent the next two days walking around with a can of lysol, spraying randomly here and there while my kids played in their rooms, oblivious to the germs breeding on every toy they handled. I did my best to sanitize their things while they were occupied with other things - movies, coloring, pooping.Evelyn spent most of the two days huddled in a ball on her bed like a pathetic little lump. Evelyn's fever finally broke last night and today she is as good as new. And as loud as ever.

Unfortunately, Oliver woke up very early this morning with a slight fever. I tucked him back in and he slept for another few hours, emerging around 9:00 with the very rosy, flushed cheeks. No amount of bribing would get him to take any form of fever reducer so I had to resort to mixing children's advil with some cranberry juice. Now, if you know my son, you know the two true ways to his heart - trains and food. Unfortunately, I wasn't about to bribe him with a train (we already did that with the flu shots - go ahead. JUDGE MY PARENTING SKILLS.) so I figured a sweet concoction of juice and advil would do the trick. And it worked! He sucked that liquid down like a soldier in the Saraha desert. Hopefully he'll get better over the weekend.

And then there's little Wesley. Sweet little Wesley. I'm trying to dilligently to make sure he doesn't get sick but my efforts may be in vain, especially since he is in the phase of putting anything into his mouth, including the leaves that blow in when I open the front door. Crunchy! I'm hoping he'll manage to stave off any sickness and stay healthy.

I just hope John and I manage to avoid falling ill. Because the last thing I need is to tend to a large man-baby.

***

Photos of the random variety

Evelyn was sad because I kept taking pics of Wesley so I offered to take a picture of her and Oliver. Aaand this is what they gave me.

Wesley learning to use a fork. His fork must be selective because somehow it wouldn't pick up any of the green vegetables on the table. Heh

Someone insisted on taking a picture together. Can you tell which kid isn't quite pleased?

Happy to have the pink princess chair all to himself. Maybe it's time I get him his own chair. That is not pink. Oh and not ugly.

Ladies, you like what you see?

Wah wah wah Charlie Brown's teacher

I am having one of those parenting days.

You know, the ones where your throat is sore. But not because you are sick, if you know what I mean. I was just telling my husband the other day how pleasant the kids have become. When Evelyn is at school, the house is peaceful. Oliver happily plays with his trains, Wesley crawls all over the house like a madman and things are quiet. On Evelyn's off days, the kids all play together in Oliver's room, sharing trains and laughing and reading books.

I should just really keep my mouth shut and count my blessings because today?

Today was different.

Today was one of those days. The days filled with threats, screams, tears. Thank goodness everyone is now in bed. And they better stay in bed or else....

Also, Glee is on! I'll be in my happy place at 9:00pm.

It doesn't help that my teeth are $%#*& killing me! I just had my wisdom tooth extracted last Monday but I've still been feeling residual pain. I did some reading on my oral surgeon's website and it sounds like I may have dry socket or whatever godforsaken thing can happen after an extraction. Fan-bloody-tastic, I tell ya.

Jeez, my first blog post in a long, long time and this is what you get.
Didya miss me or what...

Fears and unanswered questions

I'm trying not to let this consume me but I keep thinking about what happened at Evelyn's school. A million thoughts keep going through my mind as I replay back the events of today. I wonder who would have noticed if she was missing. I mean, if John and I hadn't followed the bus to school, who would have known she'd even made it there on the bus? As parents, how are we to even know if our kids make it to the school via the bus on the first place. Sure, buses are touted as safe rides for children of all ages. We were assured at the school open house that special care and attention would be given to all the kindergarteners.

Well, if this is their idea of special care and attention....

How does something like this even happen?? I mean, obviously no one even noticed my little four year old girl wandering the halls upstairs alone until an announcement was made. If we weren't there to draw attention to this issue, would the announcement have been made at all? Who would have known to look for a little girl in a purple jacket, a little girl named Evelyn Bang?

No one would have noticed. No one would have even known.

So how am I supposed to comfortably send her back there, day after day? How do other parents do this? How do I let go so my children can grow up and become strong, independent adults? How do I let go when everything within me wants to lock them up in the house and homeschool them - er, if I were that kind of parent, of course. Heh.

This parenting thing... how do people do it.

I really don't know.

Only the first day and I'm traumatized

Update: After discussing things with John, we both feel it is best for my sanity in everyone's best interest if we drive Evelyn to school and pick her up. I ended up picking her up today in front of her classroom and felt relief when I saw her heading out of the class wandering to the left straight for me. Maybe we'll try the bus another day. Or never. Whatever.

***

The day started off innocently enough. I rolled out of bed a little before 7 and jumped in the shower. My stomach felt jittery with anticipation and dread. Today was the day my baby was going to kindergarten.

I had a hard time getting Evelyn to wake up at 7:20 and had to sternly lecture her a few times as she struggled to pull her pants on and whined about not wanting me to wash her face and curl her hair. She managed a few bites of waffles and eggs before it was time to head over to the bus stop. My original plan was to walk with her while John met us with the car. However due to being behind schedule (Evelyn is the slowest eater, btw), we all ended up driving over together.

We spent a few nervous minutes taking pictures and chatting with Evelyn while in line for the bus. When it finally came time to get on the bus, she shyly stepped forward, turned around and gave us a wave. On my tip toes, I could see her tiny self settle into the second seat behind the driver. She stood up so she could see us and we all waved like mad people until the bus left us. The minute she stepped on the bus with her giant backpack attached, I started to cry. I was so overwhelmed to see her getting on this huge bus without us.


I'm going to miss her all day long.

(The sweet part of the story ends here)

Once the bus sped off, John and I jumped in the car and tailgated the bus through another 5 or 6 monotonous pick ups before it headed over to the school. During the drive, John and I chatted about our little girl, hoping she was doing ok on the bus. Hoping she wasn't getting sick. Hoping she wasn't crying.


When the bus finally pulled up to the school, John ran to meet her as she was getting off the bus while I went to the classroom to wait for their arrival.

But the arrival never happened.

Apparently when John reached the bus, he saw the older student already exiting and heading into the building. We were under the impression that the youngest students would be dismissed off the bus first and then escorted to their appropriate classes but he thought maybe today they were going to get off last. So he waited... and waited... and waited...

And she never got off. So he went into the bus to look for her.

The bus was empty.

And she wasn't there.

At this point, John was livid. LIVID, I TELL YOU. And if you know John, then you know what this means right?

We spent the next ten minutes running around the school like maniacs, trying to figure out where she could be. The worst thoughts ran through my head - Was she lost, had someone taken her, did she get off at a bus stop when we weren't looking? WHERE WAS SHE OMG.

The principal tried reassuring us that she was fine - if she had gotten on the bus, she was here somewhere.

Then I punched him in the throat. We stared silently as he tried to assure us we'd find her.

Finally, the secretary spoke with the bus driver to confirm that no students were left on the bus and then she made an announcement over the loudspeaker.

After what seemed about a gazillion years later, John finally spotted Evelyn walking down the stairs with a teacher. Apparently she had gotten off the bus and not knowing where to go and having no direction, she simply followed the other older kids upstairs to the 4th and 5th grade classrooms.

Seriously, people. What... the....*BLEEP*

When we attended the open house last week, we were assured. ASSURED. that the kindergarten students would be greeted at the bus and taken to the appropriate classroom. So what the hell happened today? I understand the first day of school can be hectic and disorganized but someone needs to figure this all out. Learn to deal with the hectic and disorganized and take care of my child, damn it!

After speaking with the principal, John was still very upset and we were both hesitant to leave her at school. We watched her through the doorway for a few minutes and then reluctantly made our way into the school parking lot.

Initially I had planned to just meet her at the bus stop after school but I think I am going to head over to the school before 3 and watch her physically get on her bus and then I'm going to be glued to that bus until it reaches our bus stop. Then I'm going to scoop her up, take her home and lock the door behind me.

This day is the most stressful ever. and it's not even lunchtime.

One way ticket to Denial River

After years of denial and dogged determination to avoid the inevitable, we've finally come to terms with it.

We need a minivan.

Part of my soul just died writing that out.

I swore I'd never get a minivan unless we had four children. and no, I'm not pregnant. I told myself we were fine with our good old Pathfinder. Currently we shove have three carseats straight across, with Wesley backwards facing in the middle. We can fit two strollers plus a large load of groceries in the back. I figured we'd be fine driving the Pathfinder until it finally sputtered to its brave, trusty end.

But alas, we were wrong.

We just need more room. More ease in getting our kids buckled in quickly and efficiently. But more importantly, we just need a car with better gas mileage than what the Pathfinder gives us. I mean, I might as well be pouring gasoline out the window as I drive down the freeway.

And don't worry, it's not like I'm worried about tainting my image of a "cool mom". It's not like I've ever had that "cool" mom vibe to begin with so it's not like a minivan can do any further damage, right?

Talk about eating my words. For all the talk about never, ever being one of those moms who drive a minivan, look at me! Just give me a fork, knife and some alka seltzer because I'm about to eat some bitter, acid inducing words.

I don't even know who I am anymore...

Protecting my cubs

This is where I feel it is needed to defend my crazy little son. I'm sure if you were to go back and read my older posts about Oliver, you'd think he was some out of control brat. And while he sometimes may be a little out of control, he is most certainly not a brat and he is not a horrible kid. He's a little crazy, a little unpredictable but incredibly sweet and funny. He loves to giggle and learn new things everyday. He's also not even 3 yet.

So when I hear people who don't really even know him. or um, me for that matter, say things like

"That Oliver. Man.........He's something else" *Shakes head in disbelief and disgust*

The mama bear in me wants to growl back, "That Oliver WHAT?!?!?" and then claw their eyes out. Uh, kidding, kidding.

Kind of.

Ok, not really.

No kid is perfect. Not yours and not mine and not that other kid at the table next to you. Oliver is definitely more sensitive to things than his big sister. If he misses a nap he's extremely grumpy. His appetite knows no bounds and he has a hard time computing the word "no more"into his demanding little brain and stomach. He has an infectious laugh and the cutest squinty eyes when he's happy. He loves to be free (like a dog off a leash, I like to say) and run around outside with his sister and friends. He likes when I sing him a song and hold him tight before bedtime. He drags his trusty green blanket all over the house, taking the time to stop and take a deep whiff of the fabric before continuing on his way.

Is he a little harder to reason with? Sure. But remember, he's not even 3 yet. Does he drive me crazy when he wanders off while we're at the store? Of course. Does he have some aggression issues against little Andrew and Chloe that he may need to work out? Um, YES. Do I have moments at home when I wish I could lock him in the closet? Yes No Maybe. Does he need a haircut? Depends you who ask.

For all of his crazy antics when we're out and about, no one who doesn't know us should really be judging us by what they see. Being a parent is a tough job but I think being a mother is even more difficult. People are so quick to judge the mom for anything the child may or may not be doing correctly but if the father does something, anything at ALL then it is somehow praise worthy. It is almost as if the baggage of judging and being judged comes with being a mom.

It's like the minute you push the baby out of your body, the world says "Congratulations! Let the judging begin!" Instead of lifting each other up, we've resorted to tearing apart the parenting choices of others. When Oliver's having a day when he's particularly out of sorts, I feel this silent judgement being cast upon me. People wondering why I can't control my son, why my son isn't as behaved as the other kids, etc...I feel this especially from people who don't have kids. People who don't yet know.

I admit it, when I was childless I often used the phrase

"When I have a kid, he/she isn't going to (Insert offense*)".

*cry on the plane
*freak out at a restaurant
*flail on the ground in protest
*sleep in my bed
*fall asleep in my arms
*Seriously, this list could go on...

And then I actually had a kid(s) and God was like "HA HA HA, remember when you said this?" and then SHAZZAM! Lightning struck or whatever and the said offense actually happened. to ME.

I think people spend way too much time tearing each other down when we should be giving more of an effort to build one another up. As fellow Christians, parents, friends, we owe it to each other to lend a hand of support, a word of comfort or just a nod of understanding. Now is that too much to ask?

So before you all go judging me or my kids or the person next to you who is not wearing shoes in a public restroom, take a step back and maybe give them a chance. and an old pair of flip flops?

A morning in the life

Update: Oliver got up at a reasonably early time today.
I got up and fed him yogurt. He was in a good mood and I'm working on it with a cup of coffee. Not a morning person but I'm trying.

Are you happy, Lisa?

***

5:05am: Hear strange noises coming from the kids' room. Angrily* pop out of bed, rip off eye mask and stomp into hallway only to see the tiny head of a one Oliver Bang scurrying back into his room and under the covers like he never left there in the first place.

Go in the room and whisper-scold him and tell him to stay. in. your. bed. until it's time to get up (which is basically whenever I roll out of bed)


*Would like to add that anger is disproportionate to violation. What can I say, I am not a morning person.

5:11am - Hear squeak of door as Oliver tries to slowly sneak out of room again and back into hallway

5:12am - Stomp back into hallway, throw Korean death stare in direction of boy (I say in the general direction of the kid because I don't have my glasses on so who knows what I'm actually looking at) and he obediently runs back in and tucks himself in.

5:15am - Hear rustling in his room but decide to give him another chance to fall asleep. Check on the camera monitor. He appears to be getting sleepy again.

5:20am - Check the camera one more time before replacing eye mask and attempting to sleep for a couple more hours.

5:25am - Begin to drift off.

5:49am - Sleepy but not yet in slumber. Decide to check monitor one more time.

5:50am - WHAT THE!
Oliver's bed is empty. Door is open.
Once again rip off eye mask, bound out of room and burst into hallway.

Hear smacking of lips. Hmm, sounds like Oliver might be throwing up? It is coming from down below. I look over the railing and see Oliver crouched in front of the living room couch.

I ask him to come upstairs.

He ignores.

I ask again.

He ignores. again.

In anger, I storm downstairs and find him.. get this.... eating macaroni and cheese out of a container.

With his hands.

5:55am - I'm fuming! Snatch container out of his hands and throw in garbage, despite his protests. In kitchen, find a stepstool placed in front of the refridgerator. Explains the macaroni and cheese. Btw, we have childproof locks on our utensil drawers. This explains the hands.

6:03am - Supress urge to spank and instead not so nicely nudge him up the stairs while whisper -yelling at the kid. He retreats to his room in tears, declaring that he's "so hungry!", and you want to know something? I don't even care.

You hear me? DON'T. EVEN. CARE.

My heart is made of stone. STONE.

6:09am - Jump back into bed muttering all sorts of angry nonsense until John hisses at me to shut my pie hole, it's 6:00 in the morning woman!

6:20am - Allow myself to calm down. Breathe deeply. Say a prayer for patience and serenity and drift off.....

8:00am: I wake up to find that John is already downstairs making breakfast for the kids.

God must have heard my prayer for serenity.

Now if we could just work on the patience part.

***

He is very lucky he's cute.

Time out, drama queen style

Lisa said the last post was kind of sad (?!) so I thought I'd post this video.

Go ahead, call CPS. Tell 'em I said HI.

*At one point, she screams so loud the camera practically overloads because of the decibel level.

Awesome.

**Don't forget to pause the blog music for full video effect.