She's GOT IT!

Katrina, after a year, (... or was it two?) we will finally be able to return that balance bike to you!

Today, Anna told me, "Mommy, I'm going to try to ride my bike without training wheels today.  If I fall, I'm quitting, so I'm not saying we'll leave the training wheels off, but I'll give it a try."

That was waaaaaaay more interest than she'd shown as of yet, so Dave and I jumped at the chance.

She started out really well...

 

 Then she had a rough time for a few minutes...

But, after maybe five minutes, she had it.

 A big hug,

 and they were off for a bike ride!

They 'mustache' you a question

Sturgeon and senior pictures

We were down at Lakeshore Park today to release sturgeon into Lake Michigan.

Since I had my camera, I took a picture of the kids.

Then I began joking about how it seemed like a place to take senior pictures.
Here was Dave's senior picture pose.

I tried a couple, too, but it didn't quite work with Ally in the Ergo on my back.
But then Luke got in on the action, and he cracked me up!

Autumn

We spent the first day of autumn at the Harvest Festival in Cedarburg.  What a beautiful day!

Some mornings

I was packing Anna's school lunch one morning last week when I started to wonder if I should pack a juice box again, or if things were going well with her getting a milk at school.

"Anna," I asked, "how is it going being a 'need a milk'?"

"It's great!" she responded.

"Oh, good," I said, smiling at her enthusiasm.  "Are you getting chocolate milk?  Is that why it's so great?"

"No, Mama," she told me, "I get breast feed milk.  It's so good"

I choked a little on my tea.  "Breast feed milk?"

Kate helped me out, "I think she means 'baby milk,' you know, whole milk."


I thought it was so funny that I went up and told Dave the story.  Instead of finding it funny, he said, "I don't want her drinking whole milk."

"Well... " I said laughing, "It's better than 'breast feed milk.'"

"Yeah," he agreed, "but they wouldn't have that at school."

For the record, I did already know that.


There's just no having a conversation around here some mornings.

Tinkerbell

I was trying to get Ally's pajamas on. We have a bunch of cute hand-me-down Tinkerbell pajamas, and I was trying to convince her to wear one of them.

"How about these?"

"I don't like Tinkerbell."

I ignored that.  There are a lot of things she claims not to like.  She's three.  I continued, "These are cute!  Want to wear these?"

"I don't like Tinkerbell!"

"Ooh, these are cozy, princessy pajamas.  Let's put these on."

I don't like Tinkerbell!  I don't like Tinkerbell!!"

I decided 

I said, "Why don't you like Tinkerbell?" 

She said, "Tinkerbell… Tinkerbell… WEIRD!!"  

When I quit laughing, I asked her why she didn't like Tinkerbell. 

She said, "She like... a bug or something!"

Poor Luke

Today he wasn't prancing around in a bridesmaid dress and heel.  He wasn't even wearing his birthday suit and furry leopard print boots.

Today, he and Ally were playing house today.  She was baby Seesa and he was Mommy.

He kept saying things like, "Okay, sweetie, come with Mommy."

I asked him if he was maybe Daddy.  He said, "No, I Mommy.  I Seesa's mommy."  Of course you are, Sweetpea.

Hidden giants

I usually pick summer squash while they're small.  It's tastier and the plant will grow more new ones that way.  Turns out we missed a couple.  These were so big, Anna couldn't even carry one in for me.

The rock

When I was seven, I gave my Uncle Paul a rock.  

Uncle Paul had always been my favorite uncle.  He was fun like a friend but also warm and fatherly.  He always looked forward to seeing him; he gave me so much attention.  I loved him so much I didn't even know quite what to do about it.  I was too shy to act like I wished I could act with him.  I got that way as a kid; the more I liked someone, the harder it became to interact with them.  

It was about this time Uncle Paul had his own baby.  He started to give me less attention.  He seemed oddly distracted by this new baby.  I thought maybe the way I hadn't been able to act like I'd meant to act had made him like me less.

I needed him to know just how much I loved him, but how could I? I couldn't trust myself to tell him or even show him.  Then the answer came.  It would be a big sacrifice, but it would be worth it.  I'd recently found a rock, and it was the most special thing I owned.  It was a rock that looked just like Mars.  I was quite certain it was actually a piece of Mars.  Surely giving him this rock would send the message I’d wanted to tell him.  I was a little too shy to tell him it was a piece of Mars, but I trusted he would know.

After I gave him the rock, I thought about it all the time.  I knew he would take good care of a piece of Mars.  He was a great guy.  I didn't have to worry.

When I saw him a week or so later, he didn't even have the rock with him.  I asked him about it, and he didn't even know what I meant right away.  I couldn't believe it.  I started to doubt if he could be trusted with the rock.  Maybe this whole baby thing was making it hard for him to think about what really mattered.

The next time I saw him, I started to wonder if he was the same Uncle Paul I knew.  He hadn’t remembered the rock, and he wasn’t talking to me.  He was all obsessed with the baby.  I knew I needed to get the rock back.  I went and stood next to my mom while she talked to Uncle Paul and my grandparents.  When there was a break, I whispered to her to ask Uncle Paul to give me my rock back.  She kind of shook her head like she had no idea what I was talking about and told me to go play.   When I kept insisting, she told me to ask him myself.  

I could hardly breathe and my heart was pounding right in my ears.  I went over to Uncle Paul and I asked if I could please have the rock back.  He asked me, "What rock?"  I couldn't believe it.  The rock!  I explained that I meant the piece of Mars I'd given him.  He smiled and even chuckled a little.  What in the world was funny about this? Tears welled up in my eyes, and I again asked if I could have it back.  He told me he was sorry, but he wasn't sure he knew where it was.  As one tear escaped and slid down my cheek, I asked him to please look for it and bring it next time.

He didn’t find the rock.  I kept waiting.  Each time I saw him, I asked if he had found it, and each time, with a friendly laugh, he’d told me he hadn’t.

I was so angry.  He wasn’t the man I’d thought he was.  

This bothered me for so many years, that I still think of the rock when I’m walking on the beach looking at the rocks.

I was at the beach with Dave and the kids the other day when I found a rock like I remember the piece of Mars.  I picked it up and remembered the whole story again.  I smiled and shook my head, because everything seemed so clear from Uncle Paul’s side.  He’s about 30 years old, and he was always really good to his niece.  He’s now been blessed with his own daughter.  His niece gives him a rock.  How sweet.  He puts it in his pocket.  That night he empties his pocket.  He takes the change and sticks on his dresser.  He sees the rock, smiles thinking of his niece, and then sets it aside to throw in the yard the next day.  But, then she asks for it back.  He doesn’t even remember what she’s talking about, and the crazy little kid fixates on it, asking him for it for months.  What a strange little kid.

He had about as much understanding of the importance of this rock as I had of the importance of his new role as father.  

That’s one of the tough things in life.  We often have no idea what other people are going through, and, unfortunately, there’s often nothing we can do to really understand.  But, we can remind ourselves that we don’t understand and try to give everyone a little extra leeway.

I guess that’s why I let Anna’s have boxes full of treasure.  Acorns, pinecones, rocks, feathers, empty containers, milk caps, yarn, buttons, and things I don’t even know about.  Because one of them just might be a piece of Mars.

Two against one

Luke opens the cupboard where we keep Finley's treats and asks me, "Can I give him him's treats?"

"Her," I correct him,  "You can give Finley her treats.  She's a girl."

Luke shakes his head at me, "She not a girl!  She a puppy!"

Ally offers her support of her brother, "Yeah.  She a puppy!"

They giggle together at how dim their mommy is.

Baking doggy treats

I love baking with the kids, but my severe lack of willpower usually means that when the kids gain experience baking, I gain a half pound.

That's why baking doggy treats is perfect!

Real

(I have to preface this post by telling you that I wrote this over a week ago, and then I chickened out and didn't post it until I was inspired to do so at a MOPS meeting yesterday.)

Okay, enough is enough.  We all feel like there are other moms are doing a better job than us.  We all feel like there's something we just can't get right that other people have mastered.  And, it’s because we perpetuate this myth by putting on a mask for everyone else.  I’m not saying we shouldn't strive to be the best, of course we should, but let’s, first and foremost, be real.  And, moms, that goes double when we’re with each other.

A friend confessed to me today that she was crabby.  She told me she'd gotten to the point of being angry about having to make dinner.  I was like, "Yeah, I totally get that."  

We began to swap stories of our bad mommy moments, and I told her a recent one of mine.  A doozy.  "That was right before I took them to Kopp's last week," I added, remembering the picture I'd posted on Facebook of my kids and me out for lunch, having fun.

To everyone on Facebook, I looked like a great mom on a great outing with her great kids.  That's not the whole story.

So, in the interest of being real, here’s my “real.”

It was a ridiculously crazy day.  Luke had been up twice the night before and I hadn't fallen back to sleep, so I was tired and had a terrible headache.  I was scrambling to get things ready to leave the kids the next day and drive to Iowa to get Finley.  We were at the pet store trying to get her dog tag engraved and Luke and Ally were pushing and pulling at each other and crying.  Anna had climbed into the cart that was already too small for the twins, and she'd fallen into me trying to get out.  Kate was begging for one tag and the others were yelling about other tags that they wanted.  The clerks were all staring at me, and I bent down and whispered to the kids.  

Here's where most would assume the Love and Logic facilitator would whip out a good Love and Logic one liner and put all the kids in line.  Nope.  With crazy eyes glaring, through clenched teeth, I hissed, "You guys, I am totally going to lose my shit in about two seconds."

And they all calmed down.  Not because I'd used a good discipline technique, but because I scared them all. 

Of course, I'm embarrassed.  It's awful.  But, it's the real story.  I don't really yell at my kids.  I was raised by a yeller, and I know how awful it feels for a kid to be yelled at.  But once every month or so, I reach a point where I just can't take it, probably the point where some people yell, and I swear.  I think I've been fooling myself into thinking it wasn't as bad as yelling, but looking at their faces that day, I knew that it wasn't true.

So, when we got back in the car, I closed my eyes and asked God for help.  I think I was just asking for help to get through the day, or maybe the next few minutes.  Before we'd even pulled out of the parking lot,  the kids had, once again, started arguing about something.  I saw Kopp's across the street.  I did a quick u-turn and pulled into their lot.  I parked and turned around, "Okay, kids," I said, "It's been a bad morning.  Let's turn this around."

"Oh!" Anna said, "I know why you're doing this! You're doing this to say sorry for being mean to us at the pet store."  It was like a blow to the stomach.  God, help me to stop.

After I'd confessed this story to my friend, I'd quickly added, "Please don't repeat this story.  It's so embarrassing."  And, it was then that I knew there's a mom out there feeling bad about her parenting.  She's thinking other moms don't mess up like this.   And it's even harder to parent when we feel this way.  So, although there's a part of me that fears being judged for the incident, I've reached a point in my life where I know that it's not just me.  (I didn't always know that, and there are still days when I wonder.)  So, I'll take the chance sharing my faults in hopes this will help someone who doesn't know that it's not just them or is having one of those days that they feel this way.  And that may bring that person to a point where they will feel more free to be real with the moms in their life.

Anna... Oh, Anna.

My mom brought me some eggplant yesterday.

As she was leaving, I said, "Thanks again for the eggplant.  I'm so excited to make eggplant parmesan.  It's delicious!"

"'See," she explained, "I didn't think it was delicious, just a lot of work.  But, I could've made it wrong.  It was just some recipe I'd found on the internet."

"You might've made it wrong, because it really is yummy."

After she left, Anna glared at me, and said, "She didn't do it wrong!  Don't be mean!"

"I wasn't being mean!" I objected.

Then she continued, "Don't excuses her for not liking it.  I don't like eggplant either."

I took the high road here.  Instead of pointing out "don't excuses her" didn't make sense.  I just told her that she had a good point.

Anna has been a little extra fiery lately.

Dave helped with lunch and recess at school on Tuesday.  Evidently she wasn't really listening to any directions while he was there, and he had to have some talks with her.  She was missing all the directions, and had no idea what to do.  I'd signed us up for duty to help Anna, not to make things harder.  When recess was over, he was trying to leave.  Anna kept telling him to stay, to the point that she actually got reprimanded for talking in line.  When Dave wouldn't stay, she stormed off.  When she passed the teacher's aid, she exploded, "I'm so mad at my daddy!"

This was the first day of school!

Growing

Kate is like me in a lot of ways, in pretty much every way except her logic-based view of meat eating.  Anna is much more like Dave.

Dave and I often wonder if maybe each of the twins will each end up taking after one of us.  Ally seems to have a fiery temper, so we thought she might be more like me.  But, Anna used to have quite the temper and she's turning out to be more like Dave.  So, I guess we'll have to wait and see.

Sometimes I think Luke is going to be more like me.  Yesterday, he picked all his grapes off the vine.  When the vine was just an empty skeleton, he said, "Get some water.  We'll put this in water and make it grow."  I loved that.

He must have noticed the pineapple top the girls and I had planted the day before.

I told him that putting part of a plant in water does work with some parts of plants, but it probably wouldn't work with the vine.  I bit open a grape and showed him how there are seeds inside there, although the ones in these (seedless grapes) aren't quite developed enough to grow.  If they were, I explained, we'd plant them in soil like we did the apple seed.

We put the grape vine in water just in case.  Today he checked to see if it was growing.  He was pretty sure it was.

At lunch today, I noticed as he stuck his stubby little finger into a piece of watermelon.  When he extracted a white seed, he excitedly told his sister, "I found a seed, Ally.  This is a real seed.  We'll have to bury it."

First Day of School

Now that I've stopped crying enough to see, I'll post these pictures of the first day of school.  

I was doing all right this morning, we all were.  The girls were both happy and excited.  We had homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast, took first day pictures, and I rode the bus to school with them.  I dropped Kate off with her sweet teacher.  Things were going great.  

Then I went to drop Anna off and she didn't recognize most of the kids.  She began to panic.  Her teacher saw she wasn't doing well, and asked Anna to be her helper.  I knew I had to leave then or it would only get worse.  I gave her a quick kiss goodbye and told her I'd see her at lunch.  I had to peel her fingers off my arm, ignore her cry of "I just want my mama," and leave her.

The tears filled my eyes, then spilled over.  They were hidden by my sunglasses while I quickly retreated through the playground.  Then they began to dribble under my glasses as I walked the two blocks home.

I'm sure she's now doing well, so why aren't I!?

My camera may not be in prime operating condition.  

Yesterday, Dave and I had finally got the kids to bed, and we sat down to relax.  

Suddenly, I heard a crash and Dave shouted, 

"She has your camera!"  

Finley had grabbed the strap and pulled the camera off the coffee table.  

I jumped up to grab her.  I couldn't see her behind the coffee table but I heard more clattering, 

like she was playing with it.  

I yelled louder than she'd ever heard me yell, thinking it would make her drop the camera. 

Unfortunately, scaring her to death went against my purpose.  

The camera strap had fallen around her neck, 

and when she got scared, she bolted down the long hall, 

with my favorite possession, my delicate camera which even clutzy me has never dropped, 

bouncing on the wood floor after her the entire way.

Fun on the farm

We went to Green Meadows Petting Farm in East Troy with our friends.  It was a fun day!