Am I Alone in This?

There are times when every parent wonders if their reality is "normal". Am I the only one who endures obnoxious behavior - over and over- like Chinese water torture....every whine...every meltdown...every "why" like one more drip on my already eroded forehead?

OR am I a member (perhaps president) of an invisible club of mothers who endure the occasional torture of their little ones with faith, forbearance, and admitted amusement?
If so, I vote that we identify ourselves.....perhaps red dots on the forehead....though I think that one has already been taken. Maybe I will stick with issuing membership cards and collecting dues.

Anyway - I would like to give you a little sampler platter of the torture de jour.

Am I alone in these?

1. The Arch- I put Bryce in his car seat and he arches his back so I cant buckle him in. Rewind and repeat about 20 times....until I use all of my upper body to control all unyielding 23 pounds of him. Here is a picture of him doing the arch while standing. One of his newest tantrum tricks.
(note: he refused clothing due to the temperature....I was being accommodating - NOT neglectful)

2. The Stampede - She ranks right up there with Chuck E. Cheese....the Ice Cream Truckstress! She doesnt care that it is FEBRUARY - she dusts off her truck, polishes her tires, cranks up the freezers and heads to OUR neighborhood so my kids can stampede in the house with their friends begging for money.

They beg for money. Rejected. They beg again. Rejected.
The sound of her music is growing louder....closer.
Their panic escalates into tears. Begging.
"Whyyyyyyy?", they chant. "Whyyyyyy not?
Katie and Anna are getting some! Why can't weeeeeeeee?"

"Because we have ice cream pops in the freezer", I reply.

"But we dont liiiiiiiiike those!

We want ice cream from the ice cream maaaaaaaaan!"

Why is my ice cream not as good as hers? What is all the hype? If I throw my fudge pops in the back of the mini-van and blare my radio with Theme park music - wearing a Whitesnake T-shirt....will my kids flock to me and pay me $2.50 for something that is worth .20 cents? Will my fudge pops THEN be worthy?

3. The booster seat tangle- Bradley insists on sitting in the back of the van with his booster. His seatbelt gets tangled around the arm of his booster and he has a panic attack trying to get it buckled before the ignition starts. IF I start the car before he is buckled.....the shreiks begin! Frantically pulling, twisting, screaming! I end up having to haul myself (all 5'10") into the back - in order to untangle and buckle. This did not happen once today. It happened thrice.

4. The Organizer - He takes toys out of the basket in the family room and tosses them down the basement stairs....one at a time.....he then tires of toys and opts for tupperware, shoes, food, etc. It is his own little filing cabinet.

He stands on the door of the dishwasher. He unloads my cupboards and places the clean items into the dishwasher with all of the dirty dishes.

He pushes the power button on my computer tower when I am just wrapping up an email. All day...and giggles.

My forehead is worn from the drip, drip, drip of the day.

Though my forehead displays the mark of daily repitition...
my heart bears the mark that each one of them have made.
They have dug deep into the fleshy tables of my heart....
day by day....
embedding themselves more fully with each passing moment.
I can no longer tell where my heart ends and my children begin.
They are my children.
They ARE my heart.

Am I alone in this?
Of course not.
We. Are. Mothers.

Love-less Letter

The kids stayed home sick yesterday.....
yet they had energy to run and play.

They are cute - but believe it or not -
sometimes they have a mind of their own.

I asked Bradley to put his toys away.
I asked Karah to sort her laundry.
Not too hard...yet they refused.
I then resorted to bribery.

"If you do as I asked, we will get Mexican take out tonight, while Daddy is out of town!"

They were untempted....thinking they could NOT do their chores - and STILL get their takeout.

Wrong. Wrong they were.
I cleaned MY room. I put away MY laundry. So what did I do?
I ordered Mexican take-out for myself and Bryce.
I made Karah and Bradley PBJ and soup.

There was weeping. There was wailing...and I think I even saw some teeth gnash.
However, they would not break me.

I dipped my chips into my queso...unashamed....
free from guilt...and completely unaffected by their rantings.

I thought the storm had passed...they had come to accept their fate....until Bradley walked in and handed me this:

I asked him what it "said". Here was his reply....

"Dear Mommy,
I don't love you. You are Mean.

Love, Bradley"

He then drew this picture of me that did NOT help my self-esteem.

When I told him it made me sad - he ran from the room crying - and when I went to check on him he was comatosed in his bed. Out for the count. Out for the night.

This morning I brought it up again - asking why he wrote me a mean letter.

"I was a little rough", he said.
"I am going to write you a letter that says I love you."
He melts me....even with his love-less letters.

The Trifecta

When I was in Junior High, the smell of popcorn would occasionally fill the halls of the school. It was a common household scent - but transplanting it to a different "setting" made it seem out of the ordinary....almost mysterious. Amazing how one bag of popcorn in the teachers lounge could fill the halls with speculation over whether there was going to be a "popcorn party" or if it was just some disgruntled teacher - taunting us with their microwave popcorn..

I relived this same phenomenon yesterday while at Walmart. I was walking into the juice and milk section when all of the sudden I hit a brick wall of a familiar scent. I immediately identified the odor - and quickly realized that I should not be smelling it in a grocery store. Just like it was odd to smell popcorn in school.....it was odd to smell urine in the milk section of a grocery store.

I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes darting across the floor in search of the perpetrating puddle. After the vomit in the drinking fountain experience - nothing could surprise me....nothing but THIS. As my eyes lifted I saw a little old woman with a very full diaper bulging out of her polyester slacks. Bingo. I had found the source of the odor. No big deal, right?

Well it was. She wasn't casually shopping with a full diaper....she had abandoned her cart - grabbed hold to the day-old bread rack and was bearing down and grunting. The bread rack had been violated as it was being treated as the handle bars in the handicapped stall.

Having a few kids, I totally understand the loss of bladder control. I get it. I empathize. I am fully aware that I will be in a diaper before I am 60. I do not mock it. I, however, will not use my diaper as a "port-o-potty"......I will use mine as a "bridge" until I can make it to the restroom in Layaway.

I vote that diapers are for little leaks....they do not give license to stop mid-store and empty everything. They are your friend until the proper destination is reached....meaning restroom - NOT bread rack.

First the vomit.....now the public pooper.....what will be next to complete the "Walmart Trifecta"?

Any bets?

p.s.
I miss "real" grocery stores...the ones that don't double as carnivals. Krogers, Smiths, Albertsons.....I long for you.

Harses, Harses, Harses

He wanted a horse party.

Oh, he got a horse party.

The kids waited in anticipation for the miniature horses to be unloaded from the trailer....totally unaware of the middle aged white man - standing behind them - trying to flash a gang sign.
I think it was supposed to be "Westside"... always appropriate at a child's birthday party.

I have to give him credit...he was trying....BOY....was he trying!
Look at the concentration!

The anticipation built...


And then...UNVEILED! Furry bickies and all!
He was impressed....but wondered where the saddles were.
Down the hill they went....to the backyard...aka corral.
They brushed the ho-hees.

And put stickers and ribbons on the ho-hees.
They walked the ho-hees.
Even the "big" kids took a turn...
They had relay races.
And a cowboy toss.

And of course there was a photo shoot because there were hoards of beautiful children....

even with bloody noses...they are still beautiful.

and....then there were the "adults"...ahem.

Boo opened his gifts....ho-hee style.

The cowgirls cleaned up the poop.


And then we ate a horse.
Boo with his favorite ho-hee "Thweetheart"
We love you Bradley. Hope 4 is great!

Celebrating 4....at Wed Wobin

February 6th Bradley turned 4.

I offered him breakfast in bed.......
"No, I will get crumbs in dare."
I was secretly relieved since I was very sick that day...tons of love....no energy to deliver it. "What do you want for your special birthday dinner?", I asked.
"Wed Wobin".
Again, relief swept over me.
Tender mercies, I tell you......tender mercies.

Off to Red Robin we went.
The birthday boy in charge....
a tower of onion rings.

Dr. Evil......(I mean Bryce) wasn't sure what to choose from the menu.....hmmm..........

For his entree he decided on Root Beer.....with a side of grilled cheese.
A toast for the Birthday Boy!

Dance of a 4 year old....

Unexpected song...

Unexpected Gift...

His favorite person...


What they came for...

(and yes, I had to go back in for another one when this one "got loose")

His favorite gift...

His favorite cake... (Coldstone, of course)

And HIS favorite...
WHO was it that turned four????

Happy Birthday Bradley. You are adored.

He knows.

Tommy T,

Yesterday Bradley and I were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting about his Preschool Valentine's party. Courtney was also there - spending her afternoon with us...as she does so many days :) We started asking him about his friends at school and asked him who his best preschool friend is.

"Bwiggs" (Briggs), he responded.

I then asked him who MY best friend is. Without hesitating, he said, "Daddy".
Even with Courtney sitting right there.....he didn't hesitate.
It made me so happy to know that HE knows it is YOU that comes first in my life....
and that YOU are my best friend.....above all else.

"Who is my best friend- that is a girl?", I asked.

"Karah"....he instantly said.
Again, the joy I felt knowing that he knew she came before anyone else....before any friend.

"Who is my best friend that is a little boy?"

"Me!" (no mention of Bryce....I suppose he isn't ready to share that title, yet)It was the best Valentine's present I could have received.....knowing that he knows.

He is four. He is little (kind of)....but he knows.

I hope you do, too.

You are #1. You are my best friend.....forever and ever amen.(can't wait for our date tonight!)

Love,
Sarah, LBC