Who's It For?

I am done with kids' birthday parties. I have never been one for over-the-top birthday parties, but I've always tried to do "something special" for the kids. I tried to do cutesy crafts and decorations, and spent way too much money on an intricately decorated bakery cake that appropriately complimented our party theme. I spent too many hours thinking up age-appropriate games and cut peanut butter sandwiches into butterflies and all kinds of crap. And all the while, I kept telling myself that I was doing it for my kids.

Bullshit.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

(and one more for emphasis)

Bullshit.

I was doing it for me.

What exactly this was fulfilling in me, I don't know. Was I trying to show off how creative I am? Was I seeking the approval (or, let's be honest: the jealousy) of other parents? Was I seeking to perpetuate the lie that I have it all together, that I am so organized and on top of everything that I have hours to spend planning a superfluous, ridiculous birthday party which makes no difference in the grand scheme of things? Or worse, was I trying to manipulate my child into thinking they had the coolest mother ever? I still haven't decided. Probably all of those things. The salt in the wound is that I operated totally for myself under the lie of doing it out of love for my children. This is a lie I sold to myself so that I could feel like a wonderful, selfless mother.

But I'm not. I'm the most selfish person I know. I can take a day that should be entirely about celebrating the life of one of God's most precious gifts, my child, and make it entirely about me.

Do I think that spectacularly planned children's birthday parties can only be thrown by desperate, selfish parents? No. But I had to evaluate my own motives. Was I having a party as a way to fellowship and share the day with loved ones? Or was I hoping to show off what a perfect life I've made for myself? What I found lurking in the darkest corners of my heart was truly disturbing to me. And it all seemed perfectly normal and reasonable on the outside.

That is what makes it a great lie.

It sounded perfectly reasonable, sweet even, to throw a big party so that we could have "special memories". But what about the other memories that I made in the process? What about the cranky-short-tempered-drill-sergeant-mess-up-the-house-and-you'll-get-it-I-can't-believe-you-spilled-that-on-your-party-dress-No!-don't-eat-that-it's-for-the-party! memories that I made for days, or even weeks, before hand? And what the hell was it all for?

What I found was that I was inspiring a lust for presents and attention in my children. It has built up to the point where every time we enter a store, my children find something that they want "for their birthday." There is not a day that goes by where they don't mention what they want for their next party. They are always craving bigger, better, more. They developed the attitude that they deserved presents and parties, not an attitude of graciousness and gratitude for what they received. And how could I expect any different when I have modeled selfishness and discontent for them?

I think what disturbs me so much is that in all that we do, even when we believe that we are operating out of good, we are actually being selfish and arrogant. It has been pressed upon my heart this year to celebrate birthdays in a way unseen by the world. To build memories of quiet moments instead of one big party. To spend my time actually being present with my children mentally, physically, and spiritually instead of spending my time planning one big hurrah while they entertain themselves. To model peace and contentment instead of a desire for more.

Blessed Beyond Measure

As we begin to blend our lives together, the kids and I have been spending more time at Someone Special's house (I need to think up a good nickname for him....hhhmmm) in order for them to feel comfortable there. Last night we went over so I could give the kitchen a test run i.e. cook dinner. After we all sat down at the table, I realized I had forgotten the kids' sippy cups in the kitchen and jumped up to get them. When I came back, Someone Special was saying, "Now what do you tell Mommy?" to which a three little voices replied in turn, "Thank you for cooking dinner, Mommy."

I think my heart grew three sizes that day.

I remember when I was a child, my brothers and I all had to thank our mother for cooking dinner every single night. My dad was a strict enforcer of this policy. Sometimes, my thanks would be very genuine (if I liked the meal she had cooked), and sometimes it was a rote reply, uttered only to avoid the wrath of Dad. But it impressed a couple of things upon me. First, it taught me that when people do something for you, they deserve to be thanked no matter what. Second, it taught me that Mom cooking and caring for me was a blessing, and that I should not take that for granted.  More specifically, it was her job to care for me, yes, but it was my job to not only feel appreciation for her, but to verbalize it, and that I was out of line if I just expected her to do it for me. A good mother is a blessing beyond measure, and I was damn lucky to have such a fine one. I didn't come to that realization on my own: my father taught me to recognize it. And it started first with him saying himself, "That sure was a good meal, honey. Thank you" and followed with, "Kids, what do you tell your mother?" Even though I could not realize it at the time, watching my father love and appreciate my mother defined the parameters of not just my own marriage, but my friendships and work relationships, and my relationships with my children, too.

Someone Special and I have not had a conversation about how important I think it is for children to be made to say "thank you" to their mother when she cares for them. To hear those words come out of their mouths, without me having to first lay out the rules for him to follow, makes me feel important and special and thought about in a way that I haven't ever experienced  before. These are the little things that you can't fake. These are the little things that you either get, or are oblivious to. That make us in sync. That make him my best friend. That make him a real man, and that make me blessed beyond measure all over again.

Bye-bye 2011....

 

What a year. In 2011, I learned, in no particular order:

That it is possible to hold every thought captive

The marigolds fascinate my children as much as bubbles

That Pinterest is an even more dangerous time killer than Facebook

That the best way to exercise is an impromptu game of chase in the backyard.

That I can forgive the past and look forward, but I cannot magically disconnect all the emotion from painful memories: those spots are still sore. 

The meaning of the word "pejorative"

That there will never be a clean sippy cup, no matter how many I buy

That I am crunchy

That it is difficult to be part of a church family when attending church requires an hour drive

That I need my church family more than I ever allowed myself to believe

That homeschooling is as much a part of God's plan for me as it is for my children

That the sweetest-tasting watermelons aren't necessarily the ones you grew yourself, but there's always next year.

That I have become intrinsically connected to the town where we live

That the magic formula for keeping up with the laundry is 3 loads per day

That my mother is better at finding clothes that I like than I am

That my friends are better at finding a man to love me than I am

That the secret to sweet cucumbers is even watering

That throwing a tantrum as an adult makes you look like a jackass, even if you're right.

That I am absolutely not in control. Of anything. And you know what? It's better that way.

My family rang in the New Year very quietly...which is just my speed. The kids went to bed on time after much reading and cuddling, and I ended up greeting 2012 by watching the ball drop with someone special. We laughed and talked and made plans for the coming year, and when I fell asleep with my head on his chest and snored a little bit (I've got some sinus issues going on---really! No, no really!), he told me it was "adorable". That is true love. It was quite possibly the best New Year's I've ever had.

Now I'm looking forward to starting a new chapter in my family's life. There are going to be some big changes in the next few months. Changes that I never dared to hope would happen. Changes that I can't wait to share. And so, from my family to yours, I hope you had a wonderful end to 2011, and I wish you all the best for the New Year.

Words of Wisodm

On a piece of paper that was once part of my credit card billing statement that says, "This page was intentionally left blank" I have written some Bible verses/words of wisdom that really spoke to me in this stage of my journey as a parent. I was so inspired when I read them that I immediately grabbed the nearest piece of paper (thus, the credit card statement) and scribbled them down. I've never transferred them to something that's prettier, I just folded it up and have it in my desk drawer. I pull it out every morning and read the words there. Each morning, the words still speak to me, so I thought I would share them.

"A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." Proverbs 15:1

"A fool's mouth is his undoing, and his lips are a snare to his soul." Proverbs 18:7

"He who guards his lips guards his life, but he who speaks rashly will come to ruin." Proverbs 13:3


"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." Hebrews 12:11

I think of these words all day long as my kids and I go through trial after trial. Yesterday, I recalled that last verse as I battled for two hours with Pumpkin when he threw a tantrum over his cracker being in pieces, and then he would not say he was sorry for throwing the tantrum. I recalled those words and held fast, and he did, in fact, cave in and say he was sorry. It was a testament to the fact that children understand so much more than we think they do. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was letting me know that he knew. He's got a stubborn streak. I just can't imagine where he got it from. Certainly not from me. (wink)

Do you have any words of wisdom that you live by, that give you encouragement when things are hard?

Read-Alouds

A momentous day for our family arrived a few months ago: the day I decided to start reading aloud chapter books with the kids, and not just picture books. I had been dreaming about that day for a long time. If you have books that are special favorites from your childhood, maybe you know what I mean. I couldn't wait for the day their attention spans and memories were developed enough to handle a story spread out of many days. Reading some of my favorite children's classics with them has been such a treat, and I'm trying to savor every moment.

When I say I'm reading aloud to "the kids", I mostly mean to Darling (who is now 5). Doodlebug (3) is always included, but she gets up to play, then comes back to listen to what she finds interesting, then moves back to her baby dolls and so on. As long as she's in the room, I think that's fine. Sometimes Pumpkin (not yet 2) is present for the chapter read-alouds, and sometimes he has already gone to bed. He gets his own special reading time with Mommy, separate from his sisters' reading time, as part of his nighttime routine. I'll combine the reading time when he is older.

Reading time has always been a fixture in our bedtime routine, often getting stretched out from our usual thirty minutes to nearly two hours. We always read before bed, but I am thinking about adding a second reading time, maybe after lunch. What does your read-aloud time look like? I would love suggestions. I have tried to surround my kids with books from the very beginning, and even though none of them can read yet, they have already started a love affair with books. Pumpkin even takes board books to bed with him. I'll peek in on him in the mornings sometimes and he will be sitting in bed flipping through the pages, looking at pictures, pointing and chattering. One day I hope to get a video of it, it is so precious to watch. I hope this is the start of a life-long love of learning.

Back to our chapter books.

Our very first chapter read-aloud was Betsy-Tacy by Maud Hart Lovelace. The Betsy-Tacy series is one of my absolute favorites. I have completely worn out my copy of at least six of the books. As I got older I mostly re-read her high school years, and then I fixated on Betsy and Great World, and especially on Betsy's Wedding for a long time. I probably read it close to a 30 or 40 times over the years. I loved it so much, and it was always next to my bed when I was a teenager. I had forgotten, though, how wonderful the very first books are. It was a joy to read, and both of my girls enjoyed it immensely.  We finished it in just a couple of days, as I was unable to resist whenever Darling would say, "Let's just keep reading." We started Betsy-Tacy and Tib and were over halfway through it when they went with their dad for a week. It was hard to pick back up where we left off, so I decided to just start a new book, The BFG by Roald Dahl.

I've been surprised to learn that whenever I mentioned we were reading The BFG, no one had heard of it. Really? I guess it's not his most popular work (I suppose the a story of how giants steal children and eat them doesn't have as much mass-appeal as a flying, giant peach or an eccentric chocolatier), but I remember my mother reading it to my brothers and me when we were little. I especially remember the part of the carbonation going down instead of up. Isn't is funny what sticks with you? Anyway, my girls and I all enjoyed it. We moved on to James and the Giant Peach, also by Roald Dahl, which we just finished last night. It was an enormous hit with everyone. Doodlebug said she wanted to ride on a giant peach. Darling said she was sure there was a giant peach roller coaster somewhere we could ride on. I remember these stories being fresh and captivating when I was a child; and they are even more so  now. Roald Dahl wrote classics, that's for sure. I can't wait to read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. However, I really want to move on the Chronicles of Narnia next. We will start with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and read the series in the order the books were written. I know that most of the collections now put the books in chronological order, but I don't like it that way. I think it's so much nicer, more Narnian, when the timeline jumps around.

*8/14/11 Update: we actually started Mr. Popper's Penguins by Richard and Florence Atwater, which Darling loved so much that we finished in three sittings---and most of that was in one sitting.

While I might have waited to delve into Narnia with the kids, I am a little bit paranoid that they will see the movies before they read the books. While, for the most part, I'm a fan of the movies of classic books, I think that every child deserves the opportunity to form their own opinions about the story first, in their head. Once they see the movie, they will forever envision those characters as the actors who played them, and they will never get another chance to form their own visions and make the story their own. This is one of the ways that movies can never be as powerful as great literature.

And lastly, I highly recommend The Read-Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease if you need extra recommendations for great books. I have my mother's copy from the '70's. While it is a fantastic list of books that make wonderful read-alouds, and a useful tool in building a solid home library, it is also a very informative about the importance and power of reading aloud to children even after they can read themselves.

Anger Management

I hope that everyone had a very wonderful Thanksgiving! We had a very quiet---busy---Thanksgiving. For starts, my children went with their dad on Friday. This has bruised my ego, as this was my year for Thanksgiving, and our divorce agreement says the Thanksgiving custody is Wednesday through Sunday. The agreement he signed. But instead, he just told me he had bought a ticket and would pick the kids up on Friday. I cannot express to you how hard I have worked to keep my pissiness factor under control over this. I believe that throwing a tantrum makes you look like a jerk. And I understand where he was coming from, and I don't want to keep the kids from him. They look forward to Daddy's visits, and I want them to have whatever time with him they can. What irritates me is that if he couldn't get a ticket for the week before (when he originally said he was coming), then I have to give up my holiday time so he could have them. I have to be the one to sacrifice to cover his mistake. Again. Because heaven forbid he should have to suffer any consequences.

See? Pissiness factor is in full swing. Big time.

I think I'm just mad on principle. Sometimes I feel perfectly, well, not satisfied, but okay with how Thanksgiving went down, and even relieved to have a small break, and sometimes anger just washes all over me and I'm red from my painted toe-nails to the roots of my hair. I have to breath deeply and say "don't react! don't react! don't react!" to myself. Because going off on someone and ranting just proves what an asshole you really are. I have so much to be thankful for that it seems silly to get hung up about something that is really insignificant in the grand scheme of things.  In fact, it is silly. And I am not justified in getting angry just because he is out of line. That's the terrible thing about being human: I cannot whitewash my old sin nature. It's always ugly. It's always there. It's always a battle. And sometimes, I lose.

I have changed a lot this year. I would like to think that I'm more relaxed, less self-absorbed, and more gracious than I was at the beginning of the year, but unfortunately that isn't true. However, it happens one decision at a time and every moment is a chance to try again. I know this is a random, rambling post. I have found that if I write things down and send them into the void, I can finally quit thinking about them and really move on. Maybe this is a sign of my immaturity. Perhaps real maturity is being able to deal with things internally, and then let go without spewing like a volcano or being eaten up inside. Unfortunately, I'm not there yet.

Playing Dirty

I believe that when God created dirt, He knew that, among its many other attributes, it would make the best toy.

We are big fans of dirt in this family. First, because I love to garden, and second, because it has provided hours upon hours of delightful childhood fun and exploration. I am a big believer that one of the great joys of childhood is getting dirty. We have an old flower bed, bare except for a few resilient shrubs and weeds hanging on for dear life, that is dedicated solely to the purpose of mud pies and dust piles. I cannot count the number of hours my children have spent digging, building, and pretending there. Dirt really is the best toy ever!

Perfection Infection and the Mess I Made of Things

This morning, I read this excellent post about the "perfection infection" that plagues our society. "Perfection" is a world view that does not, has not, and will not make anyone happy. No exceptions. Where my view differs from the rest of the world, is that our willingness to buy into this view stems from our own arrogance, and not from anyone else. Even a low self-esteem is fueled by a preoccupation with ones' self, and stems from arrogance.

I know how the world looks at me: like I washed up after I had so much promise. Everything comes easy to me, yet I've failed at everything I've ever tried. I'm twenty-six, divorced with three kids four and under. I never finished college. I live with my parents. I was going back to school, but I stopped that, too.  How pathetic. But you know what? It doesn't matter. If it were someone else, I'd be saying the same thing. But for the first time in my life, I've got it together and got my priorities in line.

The truth is, I married a man I never really loved because I thought he was safe. I was devastated by things that went on in my parents' marriage, and I thought, "He'll never do that to me. We'll have a good life together." I was dazzled by his potential. I was blinded by the desire to be married and plan a wedding and play homemaker. I made him up to be something he was not, and refused to acknowledge the doubts I had because he was going to "get me out of Arkansas." He had these big dreams, and I thought, "that's the kind of life I want." That's all I focused on instead of, you know, the way he treated me. I saw how smart and talented he was, but I ignored how he wasted it. I glossed over the fact that we didn't match up in our spiritual views. I discounted the fact that we grew up with two different views of marriage. I built him up into Prince Charming, and then was stupid enough to be shocked when the armor came off. Yes, I was that stupid girl. And then I wasn't strong enough to make it work. I wasn't strong enough to stick it out and just live with my mistakes. I loved his family, really more than I loved him, and I wanted to be a part of it because I so desperately craved that stability after it was broken in my own family. I have a deep confession to make: I knew by month two of our marriage that I had made a horrible mistake. But I was also so ashamed to be that girl who ran away after six weeks of marriage that I just kept pretending to love him. And then I was pregnant and I felt I had to stick it out for the baby. I thought, "I'm stuck now, so I might as well make the best of it and put my whole self into this marriage." So that's what I did. I failed him by not being honest with him from the start. I thought only about what a fool I would look if I broke up with him. I never thought about him, and how he thought he was marrying someone who was crazy about him. I never thought about how I was derailing his life, too. He deserved better than that. And then I was ready to step up and make it work, but he wasn't. And that's when he failed me. I was standing there, going, "Let's do this. We've got kids, we can make it work. We can still have a good life together." But he was off playing video games instead. And it got to the point where I just couldn't keep pretending anymore. I was crazy about my kids and being a mom. I thought, "This is what I'm on this earth to do. Everything else was just killing time until I got here." I begged him to jump in and experience it, too. I begged him to go the park with us. I got answers like, "I've already played with her today." "I just don't feel like going anywhere today" "Alright, but I don't want to be there more than 20 minutes." "Maybe next weekend." And what was he doing instead of being with his family? Playing video games. Watching movies. Surfing the internet. Oh, he was working, too, but he was off every weekend, and he didn't spend it with us, although we were home together. The point of this? We were both idiots. We both wrecked our marriage. My family needs to realize that I made horrible mistakes and it wasn't all his fault, and his family needs to know that he failed miserably as a husband. If I wanted to be treated better, then I should have married someone else. If he didn't want to treat me better, then he should have married someone who didn't expect to be treated better. We were both stupid. And now our kids have got to pay for it. That's the real tragedy. And that's why I'm living with my parents and pushing off school until they're older. Because they deserve to have a magical childhood, no matter how stupid their parents are. They deserve to have a mother who's there to see every magical moment, who bakes cookies with them and takes them to the zoo. They deserve a mother who can read them the same story ten times in a row because it's their favorite, who lets them finger paint, make a mess (as long as they clean it up!), and thinks that a tea party with Mr. Jumbo is the social event of the season. They deserve a mother who'll dress up in gossamer wings and a tutu and dance around the backyard singing while looking for fairies, even though the neighbors just shake their heads turn the other way. A mother who is an expert in the art of giant bubbles. Who'll dance around the living room with abandon even though she's a terrible dancer. They deserve a mother who can get along with their father, and move on no matter what happens. A mother who will shut her mouth no matter how much she wants to bust his balls (because she's not perfect, either). Who will welcome every visit from their dad, because they are his children, too, and she can't ever change that. They deserve a mother who will take on every tantrum and never let it slide because she's too tired or has to be at work. They deserve to have a mother who can out sit them at the dinner table until they eat their vegetables. Because it's for their own good.

I could never give them that if I were on my own. They would be in day care, one of fifty kids supervised by two workers who would rather be somewhere else. Bullied and ignored, or worse, they would be the bully because their mom is always too tired and overworked for them, and they are desperate for attention. And for what? For some superficial show of independence that is worthless in the grand scheme of things.

My parents understand that. They know that what my kids need more than anything else after what they have been through is their mother. And that's why they are taking care of us: not so I don't have to pay for my mistakes, but so my kids don't have to pay for my mistakes. We're blessed that they are in a position that they can do that. They are the real heroes here. They are better than I deserve.

I blew it. I know it. I pretty much have no chance at a loving marriage now- I have no illusions about that. I'm looking at being single for the rest of my life, and that's okay. I can still be happy. Because I made the mistakes, but God provided the answers. I am the luckiest woman in the world because I can advance the Plan of God without fear of persecution for what I believe. I have a comfortable life in a free country. I won't lie, there are times when I think it would be a relief to go back to school. To only be responsible for myself! There are days when I am so close to losing it I have to go scream into a pillow. Or worse, I do lose it a scream at my children. I'm always so ashamed of myself when that happens. It happens less and less because I'm stretching and growing, but I'm far from perfect. If I went back to school, got a degree, got a job, got my own place, maybe got married again, the world would look at me and say, "Finally, she's got it together!" But I would be remiss, because my orders are, "raise three children to the best of your ability."  Not "go out and do something for you and raise your kids in your spare time." It isn't about me anymore. It hasn't been since the strip first turned pink. And it doesn't matter if the world thinks I'm the biggest loser in the world. God gave me three children to raise, and I'm going to do it to the best of my ability. I'm going to give them everything I have, till there's nothing left of me but some water and a few minerals. And when that job is done and I get new orders, I'll give everything to those, too, until God takes me home. No one has to know what I'm doing: God knows. And that's enough.

While the Kids Are Away, Mommy Will.....Read

What else would I be doing? Cleaning? Hah! (although I am making meals for the freezer!). The kids are with their daddy this weekend, so Mommy is getting some real reading time. Not just a page here, a paragraph there like usual. Actual sit-down-and-read-for-an-hour and it isn't even midnight time. Naturally, I feel guilty that I'm not writing down titles and values of books that I'll be donating to the library, but hey, if there wasn't always some chore to be neglected, I wouldn't be a mom.

I am reading the most amazing book, Mommy, Teach Me! by Barbara Curtis. I read a review of it on Cathy Duffy's Homeschool curriculum reviews and immediately purchased it on Amazon. I try not to impulse-buy like that, but I thought it sounded just like what I wanted. So far, it's been a home run for me. Barbara is a mother of twelve and a certified Montessori teacher. This is a list of Montessori-style activities to do in the home with your toddlers and preschoolers. There is a companion, Mommy, Teach Me to Read, which I also have but have not gotten to yet. I love that these books are slim and easy-to-read. Reading her words was like finding a kindred spirit. In fact, I have said, nearly verbatim, what she said about spilled milk. I can't wait to do these activities with the girls when they get home.

Do you ever have periods where you just know that you're growing and stretching? I feel like I'm in that now. I've spent the weekend making plans, reading, journaling, making lists, solidifying plans, and preparing materials (and cooking meals for the freezer--which is a strange expression as I am actually making the meals for my family and me and am not really feeding the freezer).  I have been trying to put all electronics away when I am with the kids and have been getting up early to have computer time for myself. I canceled the internet on my phone. I've quit trying to get them occupied and instead have gotten them involved with me. It has made such a huge difference! I was falling into this terrible rut of yelling. I hate yelling. I hate to yell and I hate to be yelled at, so I was pretty appalled when I found myself beginning to yell in frustration. I feel there is no place in my parenting for yelling, so I knew I had to find the source of this frustration and nip this in the bud. I found that I was the source of frustration, not my kids. They're just being kids! They're just curious, and energetic, and want to be with mommy because they love me! Why should that cause frustration? No, the problem was in how I handled the day. The problem was that I got frustrated because I felt they were interrupting my own selfish desires to do this or that. I don't mean that Mommy can't do some things for herself, I just feel that I should only do it on my own time, when they are in bed. I have marching orders straight from the top: raise three kids! I cannot stand in the court of Heaven at the gates of eternity and say I failed that mission because "I needed something for me." And then I realized that we are only children once. I often say that my only goal in raising my kids is that they come to know the Lord. "I cannot live in eternity if they aren't there with me." But then I realized that in Heaven, they will be their mature selves, not my little ones. My time with them when they are babies is for Time only, and will never, ever happen again. And it's gone in the blink of an eye. Am I going to miss it so I can have "something for myself?" Absolutely not! Being with my children is what I'm doing for me. So now a new resolution for me: be mentally present for my kids. Being "there" in the room but fiddling on the computer is not enough. It leads to whining, frustration, and ultimately, yelling. It's just not an effective way to parent. Being actively engaged with them all day is the hardest thing I have ever done. But the more I do it, the easier it is. I wrote in my journal, "It's like being a better mom leads to being a better mom." The more I do it, the more I do it. You know?

Random Thoughts

A lot of time I hear of moms who want to keep their kids busy while they "get something done." This isn't my philosophy at all (although some tasks are not safe for a pre-schooler to perform). I want my kids to actually do the tasks with me so that they can learn what it takes to live every day life. They need to know what it takes for the dishes to get washed, the laundry to get folded, the beds to get made, and the toilets to get scrubbed. Because if they don't know how much work it takes, they will never be able to appreciate me, their mother. And if they do not learn to appreciate me, they will never learn to appreciate anyone.

Of course, it takes about a bazillion times longer to do anything when I've got three little ones trailing behind me like ducklings.

Quiet Time

All the kids are in Quiet Time, meaning Mommy gets quiet time, too! I've been perusing free ebooks and free audiobooks online, and came across this volume of Poems Every Child Should Know. 
I just had to share two poems that I came across in the first few pages of the Gutenberg text. For some reason, I am completely struck by the fact that these poems were written so long ago. I'll bet the authors never could have imagined that a woman in the 21st Century would be reading their works over the internet, yet the theme of each poem still rings true today.

               Let Dogs Delight to Bark and Bite

Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
          For God hath made them so;
        Let bears and lions growl and fight,
          For 'tis their nature too.

        But, children, you should never let
          Such angry passions rise;
        Your little hands were never made
          To tear each other's eyes.

          ISAAC WATTS (1674-1748).

LITTLE THINGS.

    Little drops of water,
      Little grains of sand,
    Make the mighty ocean
      And the pleasant land.

    Thus the little minutes,
      Humble though they be,
    Make the mighty ages
      Of eternity.

     EBENEZER COBHAM BREWER (1810-1897).

Things I Love This Week

My Vera Bradley Diaper bag (mine is black)
I have been saving and searching for at least a year for the right diaper bag. I needed something big enough to take diapers for multiple children, but easy to carry around. For day trips, I keep a fully stocked, huge diaper bag in the car, and carry around just one bag that isn't too heavy to keep just one or two diapers per child, some wipes, a paci, my nursing cover, and the usual things you find in a purse (sunglasses, lip balm, wallet, etc). So I wanted something that looks like a purse, but is actually a diaper bag. Needless to say, it took forever to find what I was looking for, but when I saw it in the store, I knew it was the one for me! I love, love, love it! And because it's Vera Bradley, I know it will hold up to a lot of wear and tear.

Cozy Plush Microwavable Toys by Intelex
These soft toys are filled with lavender and are fully microwavable and are so soothing to my kids. You just heat for two minutes and they are just right and not too hot. Plus they're just so darn cute! During the cold winter months, I would warm these up and set them in the kids' carseats before we got in the car. Then the kids would hold them to keep nice and toasty until the car got warmed up. I would heat them up to warm up little beds so they were nice and warm to crawl into. But even now during the hot, hot summer months, I use E's. His bed is right by the AC vent and the mattress gets COLD, and I still don't like to cover him with a blanket for fear that he'll get tangled in it or get it wrapped around his head. So I just warm up his little puppy for him to hold onto (He is one for clutching and hugging things), and the lavender aroma from the real, dried lavender inside is so calming for him, I think it helps him to sleep.

My Bebe Au Lait Nursing Cover.
Over the course of three long-term breastfeeding children, I've tried several different brands of nursing cover, as some have disappeared in the wash. This one is by far my favorite. The Bebe Au Lait (and Hooter Hider) provide great coverage without being overwhelming. The terry cloth pocket detail is genius...great for both spit up, and housing pacifiers or nursing pads, etc. while nursing. Of the many brands I've tried, this has the best rigid neckline. It is the only one that will stay over for me while nursing a wiggly baby.

Baby Cubes
Making baby food: round three. I have certainly gotten a lot of mileage out of my baby cubes, and they are as dependable as ever. BPA-free, microwave safe, and stackable, these allow me to freeze up lots of purees in handy, 1-oz portions and pull out just what I need. The attached lid means no searching. These are easy to clean (I hand wash) and so far have not stained.

Top 100 Picks for Homeschool Curriculum by Cathy Duffy
This really helped me sort out my "education philosophy" and pointed me in the direction of texts and curriculum that will complement my family and my needs. It also showed great advice on identifying your child's learning style. And it just made me think about things that hadn't occurred to me before, even though I was homeschooled. This is worth the price for any parent, though, simply for the list of quality "real" books (both fiction and non-fiction) in the back, that would be a great complement to any education, whether private school, homeschool, or public school.

A Child's Garden

I have two cherry "Tumbling Tom" tomatoes (one red and one yellow) that I grew from seed planted in $3.00 Lowe's all-purpose buckets on my back patio. The stems are heavy with little green fruits, and my kids and I go to look at them every day, eager for them to ripen. We have little red strawberries ripening in a strawberry pot, and several blueberry bushes with their very first crop of blueberries. They are ripening three or four at a time, and we go pick them and eat them together. I have a poor, suffering raspberry bush which is still in its original container and has yet to be planted, but it is giving me fruits despite its neglect. My oldest daughter, R, picks the ripe raspberries before anyone else has a chance. I also have yet to bring a single sugar snap pea into the house, because she eats them straight off the vine. The other day, she said to me, "It's fun to pick our food when it's ready." At that moment, nothing could have delighted my heart more. I love gardening, and have secretly been hoping that my kids would take an interest in it, too. I never mention gardening because I know if they feel forced to like it, they'll end up hating it. Instead, I just try to let them approach me about it. They'll just be playing the yard, and I'll be digging or weeding, and they come to see what I'm up to, and before I know it, they are digging the holes for my squash seedlings and wanting to see how much the plants have grown over night.

I feel that gardening is the most wonderful hobby to share with children. It is full of important lessons. Not just about where their food really comes from, but also lessons about patience, consistency, and hard work. There is no such thing as instant gratification in gardening...it's all about work up front and delayed reward. Gardening also teaches lessons about planning and working towards a goal. But gardening is more, even than that. It is a subject that directly relates to learning in all areas: young children can learn directly about the weather and how it affects the earth, they can learn basic math by counting how many seedlings you've transplanted, or the number of days until the harvest. They can learn about ecosystems, bugs and birds, predators and prey. Older children can learn about germination, photosynthesis, plant reproduction, even genetics, all by toodling around in the garden. They can practice geometry by helping to build raised beds. Gardening even provides lessons for the right lobe of the brain! I recently read about an idea of a "nature notebook"....a little pad of paper on which children can draw pictures of flowers or bugs they've seen, write descriptions, then take them home and look them up. Even though my girls can't draw very well now, I think they would enjoy that.
Many of my gardening plans have not come to fruition this year, but I'm learning all the time, so hopefully next year will be a very productive one. But big or small, I'm just glad that I can share it with my children.

And speaking of children and gardens, check out A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson (you know, that guy who wrote Treasure Island). It's a collection of wonderful poems for children, usually with beautiful illustrations. I happen to love the illustrations by Tasha Tudor, but there are so many different versions that you can find something to suit any taste.

A Post at Last:

Ahhh, updates. There has been so much going on that I don't even know where to begin! I have been finding it hard to make time for updates (or computer time in general), but tonight my darling E decided to take a two-hour break from sleeping, and now mommy is awake even though he has peacefully returned to dreamland. First of all, a topic of interest to all parents that I've been trying to research: SIDS (sudden infant death syndrome). While reading the book, The Truth About Children's Health, I read, for the first time, about the "toxic gas theory". Basically, chemicals in the flame retardents on baby mattresses (arsenic, phosphorous, and antimony) react with a fungus S. Brevicaulis that commonly grows in mattresses, and when brought to blood/body temperature creates what is essentially a toxic nerve gas (either phosphine, arsine, or stibine). This theory asserts that the reason the risk of SIDS essentially disappears after twelve months is because babies can usually stand by this age: the gas gives them a headache, they wake up, and stand up. This would also explain why the Back to Sleep Campaign was so successful in lowering SIDS death rates, but the death rate has now leveled off. It would also explain why they now say that using a fan in the room lowers the incidents of SIDS. It also explains why the risk of SIDS increases with each child (second children are more at risk than first children, third more at risk than second, etc..), because parents typically save and reuse the baby mattress, and the fungus is going to be more prevelant in an older mattress. But what I find to be the most compelling is this: in the early '90's, a chemist named T.J. Sprott advised the government of New Zealand that they begin recommending all infants sleep on mattresses wrapped in a food-grade polypropylene cover. New Zealand took the advise, and at the time of the writing of The Truth About Children's Health, of the more than 100,000 babies who slept on wrapped mattresses, not a single one died of SIDS (it has been estimated now that more than 200,000 babies have slept on wrapped mattresses...still no SIDS deaths). This was at a time when the SIDS death rate in New Zealand was just over 1 per 1,000 live births, so there should have been around 100 SIDS deaths. But there weren't. A British study found no link between baby mattresses and SIDS, but a German study confirmed the toxic gas theory. Go figure. I can't find how the studies were controlled, whether they were using used or new mattresses, etc, so I guess it comes down to who you think is smarter: Germans or Brtis. (just kidding!) It is important to note that babies have died from SIDS in their carseats, swings, while bedsharing on the parents' mattress, and on sofas....ALL of these things are treated with the same chemicals as baby mattresses, and all of them are subject to the growth of the same fungus. I can recall from my childhood stories of a babies who died mysteriously in their swings or carseats.
A note about vaccinations: it has been found that more than half of all SIDS babies had been recently vaccinated. While this doesn't conclude causation, it does provide a clue: vaccinations typically make babies run a fever, with a peak body temperature 24-48 hours after vaccination. An elevated body temperature would heat the mattress, cause the molecules to move faster, turn into gas, and rise at a higher rate, creating a larger dose of nerve gas. This peaks my interest about the link between autism and vaccinations as well. How many times have we heard a devastated parent report that their beautiful, healthy baby was vaccinated, went to sleep feverish, slept for hours, and when they woke up, the parent knew that "something was wrong"? While I am not convinced that vaccinations themselves cause autism, too many parents can trace their child's sudden altered behavior and delayed development back to the day of vaccination for there to not be some kind of correlation. I learned from reading Freakonomics that the truth is often right in front of us, and not always what it seems.
The last thing to talk about on this topic is the mattress cover that the New Zealand government now recommends. It is called the BabeSafe mattress cover, and yes, I bought one. It cost me $40, I bought it directly from New Zealand, and shipping was free. Here is the website through which I bought mine:
Eve's Best , and here is Eve's blog about SIDS preventions where you can learn more about the Toxic Gas Theory. I know, even after you read everything, you'll probably still have a little voice in the back of your mind that says, "is all this for real? Is someone just trying to make money off of parent's fear and others' unspeakable misfortune?" That little voice is still in my head, even as my little E sleep peacefully on his wrapped mattress. And the conclusion I have come to is this: maybe, but I don't care. I can't find anything illogical about the toxic gas theory. It just makes sense to me. I feel the cover IS a tad pricey, but once I received it, I can tell you that this is a very high quality cover: very thick and durable. Also, once it is on the mattress properly, it makes no noise when E rolls over on it, and I can't even tell it's on there. In fact, with the "under blanket" that is recommended you use with it (I use a 100% cotton bath towel), I think the mattress is now more comfortable for E. I can't find a reason not to use it. And if I have blown forty bucks, well, then I have. But I sleep better knowing E sleeps on a wrapped mattress, and sometimes the placebo is the best painkiller.
If you are wary that anything could combine to produce a deadly gas, I suggest that you Google what happens when you mix bleach and ammonia, two common household cleaning agents (do NOT attempt to mix them for any reason! I'll save you the trouble of actually Googling: it's deadly!)

I just want to add that T.J. Sprott stressed the importance of using only 100% cotton bedding...no synthetic fibers such as polyester.
Finally, I leave you with one website that I highly recommend you read. It puts this whole debate in a much clearer, more concise manner than I ever could:
Baby's Bedding: Is it Creating Toxic Nerve Gas?

Learning the Hard Way

This afternoon, I walked into the kitchen to find my 3 1/2 year old and my 2 year old on the kitchen floor with bowls of granola, which the eldest had taken upon herself to pour. Needless to say, there was granola all over the floor. I proceeded to show them where the small hand-broom and dust pan were, then I showed them how to sweep properly so that the granola actually goes into the bin instead of just spreading it around and creating a bigger mess, how to dump the contents of said dust pan into the trash, and how to return the hand-broom and dust pan to its proper place. Here are my my thoughts on this event:
Amount of time it took to teach one pre-schooler and one toddler how to clean up after themselves: 45 minutes.
Amount of time (approx.) it would have taken for me to just clean it up myself: 3 minutes
Amount of time (approx.) I would spend in my lifetime cleaning up after them if I never taught them how to do it themselves: 10 years
Lifetime value of the lesson learned: priceless