Small Victories with the Little People

As sweet as Elizabeth can be, she's not much of a hugger.

Cuddling and sneaking a squeeze is just not her thing.  In fact, even 'I love you's' are tough to get out of her.  Now, this is not the case for the other two, who race and push each other down to get to my lap as soon as I take a seat anywhere in the house.  Most mornings find me covered in Rachel and Caleb, with Elizabeth on the edge of the love seat.  

That is her perch, especially after I (stupidly) taught her how to use the remote.

But that's another story.

Anyway, I have begged my child to come lay with me, cuddle with her mama, give me a hug...you get it...and sometimes she will...begrudgingly.

Now there have been random times that she's giving me glimpses past her tough exterior.  Like about a month ago, when we were driving back from Wheeling, WV.  We were about 6 hours into the trip and Caleb and Rachel (who both sit in the middle captain chairs of the van) were beginning to lose it.  So I started playing "this little piggie" with their toes, making the little one go whee whee whee all the way up to their very ticklish necks.  

Elizabeth was watching a movie and seemed to have cared less.

So I couldn't figure out why she was crying when we stopped for lunch.  As she was bawling in my arms, I finally got out of her, "BUT I WANT TO DO THE LITTLE PIGGIES!!"

Guilt flooded me.  "Oh honey!  I'm so sorry!  I didn't get to do the piggies with you, did I?"  And we went to our seats and made the little piggies race up her neck right in the middle of McDonalds.

Flash forward to yesterday.

We had just been having a day of rumbles between Elizabeth Rose and myself.  Her personality is strong and we're at the stage that she will just flat-out ignore me if she doesn't want to do what she's been asked to do...which of course, lights a fire under me faster than gasoline.  We argued about which leotard to wear to gymnastics.  We argued about picking up the major pony fort she had constructed during nap time.  We argued over her not being able to light candles by herself (true story...she had put the play chair on the hearth in order to reach the lighter on the mantle...didn't see THAT ONE coming).

And the problem with the oldest being defiant is that the other two tend to follow right along suit.  So it was just one of those days that I felt like all I did was discipline and harp and lay down rules and those just aren't that fun or rewarding.  By the time Scott got home, I was spent.  And I felt stupid being spent as a stay at home mom because duh, I STAYED AT HOME, but spent I was.  

So dinner rolled around and, as I watched my children push the healthy food around their plate and moan and groan about the frittata I had fixed that had "yucky steak" in it, I felt myself sink lower and lower.  Just the day before, I had heard a devotional on finding Jesus in our every day chores, to look for Him when things were mundane or hard raising our little people.  But, for the life of me, I couldn't see Him.  

Deciding that she was finished, Elizabeth hopped up from her seat and ran into the living room.  Amazingly, she came back willingly when we asked her to clear her dishes and then the rest of the table (she enjoys most chores that don't involve picking up toys).  Then, when she came back into the dining room from her first load, it happened.

She hugged me.  

She stopped, put her arms around me and hugged me for a good 20 seconds.

Within the first 10, I was bawling my eyes out.  

She looked up at me, shocked.  "Mama!  Why are you crying?"

And in that moment, I decided to be honest with her.  "Oh honey," I sniffed.  "Sometimes I'm just not sure you love me at all."

She hugged me tighter.  "Well of course I do," she giggled.  "You're the best mama I have!"  (Oh Jesus...THERE you were!)

And with that, she cleared the rest of the table, each time stopping to give me a quick squeeze.  Scott reached across our ketchup covered son to squeeze my hand and we both paused in the brief minute of peace in the house.  

Well, until bath time...

Happy Wednesday, friends!

Signs you might have a toddler in your bathroom

Every morning when I get ready, I laugh at the set up on our vanity simply because we tend to always have a "helper" when we are getting ready.  And there he is!

"Here Mama, I'll turn the water on for you so you can go ahead and brush your teeth.  Now spit so I can yell 'bubbles!!' and splash in them."

"Oops, Mama...don't worry.  I'll get your toothbrush.  I just dropped it.  Right on the floor.  By the toilet."

"Hey Mama, why do you put everything way over there?  I'm having trouble getting them from here.  Don't worry, I'll just scale the sink and get them.  You go get dressed and don't stress."

And, you know, I would consider him unique had I not found this little gem in my archives.

(Rachel at 19 months.)

Have a great day, my friends...and here's to hoping you can brush your teeth alone! 

From Messes to S's...

Lately, I've been dealing with control issues.

Or a lack of control issues, if you might.

My children run around crazy, my eyebrows are out of control and my house is a wreck.  And while the "get it together sister" part of me is yearning to tighten the reigns and go to all ends to have control, the "they're only young once" other part of me is urging myself to enjoy the journey.  

All this being said, I've been in a mass cleaning and purging stage while I move our belongings back in from the garage, where they were stored as the floors were getting done.  Boxes of items we don't need have been sent to the thrift store and I've actually been thankful for the process because I don't think it would have otherwise gotten done.  

When they replaced the floors, they had to tear out the subfloor, leaving a thick layer of dust on anything standing - blinds, curtains, baseboards, pictures left on the walls, etc.  The only reason why I'm telling you this is to paint the picture that I've kind of been on a cleaning frenzy around this joint.

So you can imagine my disbelief when I walked into the entryway yesterday and discovered writing on the wall.  In crayon.  Blue crayon.

Now, let me pause again and tell you that all of my children are smack on the edge of big developmental stages.  Caleb is trying with all his might to talk.  Elizabeth is beginning to go from rebellious to helpful and want responsibility.  And Rachel is exploding in creativity.  She really has started to color well and is wanting to make letters randomly.  

Rachel, more than the others, is very sensory driven.  She clings to a blankie with soft edges, especially when she's upset.  She is the only one that bites her nails and toe nails (which both grosses me out and makes me jealous of her flexibility).  And lately, she's taken to picking all the leather off our couch, which drives us crazy but no one's been able to catch her in the act yet.  

However, this was all very far from my mind when I was trying desperately to get my house back together yesterday around 5 p.m.  It had been a long day and the kids were running crazy around the house, since it was too cool to go outside with their drippy noses.  Dinner was on the stove and I knew Scott would be on his way home soon.  I had wiped down surfaces, dusted the living room and was just finishing up the floors when I saw the brand new art work on the wall... in blue.  

I knew it was Rachel, as we had already been down this road with Elizabeth, and I began to blow my top at my three-year-old.  Of course, she denied it and cowered under her blanket and I felt all my control issues bubble to the surface.  

Your house never looks put together.  You're just not a good homemaker.

Your children can't follow the rules.  You're just not a good mom.

Your husband is going to think you have no control of your house.  You're just not a good wife.

and even

You're taking out your frustrations on your three-year-old!!  You really have no self-control.

And while the true battle of control was raging inside me, Elizabeth walked up behind me.

"Mom!!  Look!!  Rachel made an S!!"

And she had.  There in the middle of the "art" was a perfectly scrawled S...in blue crayon...in my entrance way.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  2 Corinthians 12:9  

I pulled Rachel on my lap and apologized for getting upset and asked her if she would make all her letters on paper so that I could keep them forever.  Her tears dried up in an instant as she jumped down and ran off to do just that.  And once again, I was thankful for pint-sized grace that forgives me quicker than I deserve.   I was thankful for Elizabeth's sweet heart and gentle reminder of what was really important.  I was thankful even for my control issues because they keep me looking to the One who is so much stronger and has it all together so that I don't have to. 

And I was also thankful for the big box of Magic Erasers that was on sale last month at Costco...

Happy Thursday, friends!

 

Hey...you...wanna see my hallway??

Ok, so this isn't the sexiest of house transitions, but it is definitely one that takes my breath away the most.  And it would probably be the most unassuming, had you never visited our house prior. 

A little history on me:  I like white trim.  I love a clean look.  Our little SC house had the old farmhouse baseboards and I just fell in love with the whole whiteness of them.  

Call me a weirdo.  

So when we moved into this house, they had painted all of the downstairs baseboards, but left the upstairs dark and it always bugged me.  I just wasn't sure how to make it look pretty without painting them.  So with the help of my good friend, Rita (painter/home designer extraordinaire!) we (she??) got to work.

Now that, my friend, is a lot of dark wood.  Every door, every baseboard, every window frame...well, you get the picture.  

Ahhhh...isn't that CA-RA-ZY??  We carried the same wall color from downstairs and all the woodwork became white.  I thought we were going to have to change out our door hardware too, but being a dark bronze, they actually looked really good when we lightened everything up.  

The first day Rita started on it, she had been working for about an hour when I came upstairs.

Me:  *Gasp!!*  Rita!!  I love it!

Her:  Annie, that's primer.

Me:  Well I LOVE primer!! 

And seriously, it's just spinned into a love affair from there.  Every time I walk up the stairs, I really feel like I'm entering into a new house.  

All in all, it took her months to get everything painted.  Pretty much everything took a coat of primer and two coats of paint.  But I am so happy with the results.

Will share more soon!  Happy Monday, sweet friends!

First Day Recap and Daddy Birthday Parties

Well, she survived.  

I have to tell you, I held my breath walking into preschool on Wednesday afternoon.  I was so nervous that Rachel refused to go to the potty or threw a crying fit or had a horrible time.  There were a couple of moms standing at the doorway chatting when I walked up.  I overheard the teacher talking about the kids working with scissors so I glanced over her shoulder and saw Rachel, sitting quietly at a table, not doing anything.

Oh no.

And then she looked up and saw me...and smiled...

Ahhhh!!  Sweet relief!!  Once the teacher realized who's mom I was, she told me Rachel had a great day, although they weren't sure she could talk until she saw Elizabeth on the playground and went crazy.  (Sounds like her.)  Elizabeth's day was pretty typical for her and she got rave reviews from her teacher.

We talked about their days and new friends and then set out on our secret mission.  We had big fish to fry...it was Daddy's birthday.

We were making our plans on how to celebrate that morning when Elizabeth asked how old Daddy was.  Doing the math, I couldn't believe he was turning 39, making it ten years ago that we celebrated his birthday together for the first time.  Life was so busy then (ha!), with the college kids getting back to campus and school starting.  We hadn't been dating long, maybe a couple weeks...way too early to know how someone celebrates their birthday.  (You know what I mean...is it no big deal or is it a national holiday?  You never know!!)  So I asked him if he wanted to go out or did he want me to make him a special dinner?  He thought they would be practicing late and said he could just stop by afterwards, which worked out for me because we had practice too.

I ended up being pretty late for some reason that I can't now remember and walked in the door with nothing prepared, which I sheepishly admitted when he called to tell me he was on his way.  "No problem," he said.  "I'll be right there."  Ten minutes later, he walked in my little house with two cartons of ice cream and toppings and we celebrated his birthday with ice cream sundaes and watching TV on the couch.  I was mortified that he bought his own birthday treat, but he didn't seem in the slightest bit upset and told me that he just enjoyed relaxing and chatting.

Oh, I was smitten right away!  ;)

Fast forward waaaay into the future and three kiddos were excited to celebrate with him and we definitely weren't stopping at ice cream!  

Caleb and I met Scott for lunch at one of our favorite little restaurants that doesn't care if you trash the tables.

After picking up the girls, we ran to the fancy store (Stein Mart) to find him some presents, which, much to the chagrin of Elizabeth, did NOT include a Hello Kitty watch.  Then we went to Publix to get balloons and a cake.

The balloon tradition started not long after we moved here.  We had very little extra money and no little friends to make a birthday party special.  So Scott walked in the door of Elizabeth's 2nd birthday with two $2.99 balloons...the mylar kind with a character on it and they were instant hits...for a week!!  So now, at every birthday, each kid gets to pick out a special balloon and it normally still lasts a while.  

The nice lady at Publix agreed with the girls that Daddy would LOVE two princess balloons and Caleb got Toy Story.  We shot home, wrapped presents, decorated the house and they played and colored as I got dinner going.  During this time, I asked Rachel why she wasn't cutting with scissors with the other kids.  She just kind of shrugged at me, so I said, "Rachel, if your teacher asks you to cut, then you need to do what she says."  She paused for a minute and then looked me in the eye and said, "But mom, she said we didn't HAVE to and that we could color instead.  I already know how to cut."  WHOA!!  A fully sentence and not a hint of crying??  Yes!! (cue air fist pump!)

Then came the really important part...practicing jumping out and yelling surprise.  (This was right in Caleb's wheel house, in case you didn't already suspect.)

Here they are, keeping "look out" for Scott to get home.

I'm sure YOU'RE not surprised that it was a wonderful evening and we celebrated 39 years well.  Today, revealed another day of preschool and we were better prepared for the routine and had everyone's "bap paps" ready (Thank God!).

And then today really marked the first day of quality time with just me and my son.  Wednesday was so chaotic that we weren't really home much together.  So today, he broke me in by walking right in the door from the Y, running in the kitchen and pointing up at the refrigerator like, "Here!  Can I spell it out to you any more woman??  Cook me some lunch!!"  

"What??  I was huuuungry!!"

Sigh.  And now it's nap time and I'm off to tackle some ga-ross bathrooms.  Have a wonderful weekend, my sweet friends!!  Thank you for all your kind wishes, prayers and texts on Rachel's first day!

First Day of Preschool!

I forgot how much I used to LOVE nap time.

With Caleb being the only napper in the house, the 12-2 hours are now some of my craziest.

"Mama, what can we do now?"

"Mama, can you get this toy down?"

"Mama, can we play on your computer?"

"Mama?...Mama??..."

So I basically keep running on a normal day and didn't realize how much I missed the solitude of a good nap time with no children awake until right now.

Ahhhh...quiet.  Can you hear it?  I'm drinking it in.

Well, except for the new garage door getting installed.  That's a little noisy.  But I'll go into all that next week.

Today, I had to take my heart to preschool.  Now, you know that Elizabeth went last year and she was jacked about going back.  Not a hesitant bone in that child's body, I swear.  But Rachel...

Well, we signed Rachel up because the pediatrician thought it would be best.  She is our shy one, our sweet and quiet one.  She will rarely talk to adults and sometimes not even kids her own age.  And she's never really been away from me for more than a couple hours.  I would be lying  if I said I wasn't nervous all morning, but she was really all smiles picking out her outfit and getting ready.

Ok, girls!  Stand there so I can get a picture of you in your back to school outfits!

Ok, Caleb...You want to get in there too?  Ok, now everyone look at me!  No, stop moving.. No, look at me.  Wait!  Hold still just a second...

Don't squeeze her head off Elizabeth!!

I asked the girls to go to the potty, got my bag on my shoulder and walked back in the den to see them both standing with their backpacks on, holding their lunchboxes, waiting on me.

*tear wipe*

And then Caleb pointed up at me, "Bap pap."

I have no idea why my dad taught him to say backpack at the beach, but somehow it wound into conversation.  Well, now here it was.

"BAP PAP!!"

He wanted to go too.  And was quite insistent on my making it happen.  I ran back into the kitchen, his chubby little feet hot on my trail, and grabbed his lunch box out from under the island.  Happy to have something like his sisters, he marched proudly to the door to stand with them.

And there they were, ready and excited for what was very much the real world for a 5, 3 and 17 month old.  We walked in the school and dropped Elizabeth off, no problem.  Caleb held tight to his "bap pap," and after saying goodbye to Elizabeth (with a reminder to listen and obey), I turned to find a very nervous Rachel standing in the hallway.

Oh, how I know that feeling and how I wanted to take her back to the car with me.  Doesn't being the mom just suck sometimes??  

I smiled and gave her a big hug and we walked the hallway to her classroom and met her teacher.  Much to my relief, she was scooped up in her teacher's arms and told how excited she was to see her.  And then I saw Rachel's slow smile and knew she was going to be ok.  And I thought that I probably would be too...

Until I looked down to see my son staring up at me, expectantly...the one who has never been an only child in the house.  Sizing up his playmate for the day, he turned on his heel, grabbed his bap pap and started running for the car.

So much for being sad!

And now that my playmate is down for the count, I'm going to try to tackle my kitchen...which is still wrecked from making pancakes and lunches.  Happy Wednesday, my dear friends!!  And I'll let you know how the day went tomorrow...that is, if the girls let me use my own computer during nap time.  ;)

Summer Dreams...

It flew by and I wrote nothing.  

I didn't record my kids swimming.

I didn't write about our first trip to the ER.

I didn't tell you about our monster tomato plants or about how I was learning how to paint or my workout designed to get strong enough to do a pull-up.  (Which I can't do ANY!)

I didn't complain and I didn't rejoice. 

And now I'm kind of regretting it because I don't have record of our summer except for the piles of house renovations we were able to get through (and I'll share with you soon...woot!).  

Last week, we went to the beach and, while I didn't feel like I needed a vacation, once I set sights on the ocean, I knew I had been sadly mistaken.  We had perfect weather, stayed in a condo with a perfect walk-in pool, and made perfect memories.  

Me and the crazies!

After a few days, I found myself refreshed and ready to tackle the new season.  Running the beach, I felt so insignificant and thankful.  

Lord, look at all You've created and still you manage to bless my family and me.  Forgive me for all my selfishness and belly-aching and thank you for not only taking care of and knowing the individual needs of all the millions of fish in the sea but me also.

I told Scott that I felt like I was given a summer time New Years and returned home ready to get into our new preschool schedule and the final house remodeling. 

Oh, and writing.  :)

Speaking of which, this morning, I had the following conversation with Elizabeth as I was fixing her hair.

ERS:  Mom, if I were a mermaid, I WOULD NOT open my eyes under the ocean.

Me:  Well, Elizabeth, mermaids aren't real.  They're just pretend.

ERS:  No...I'm talking about MER-MAIDS.  The kind that swim in the ocean.  Do you think the water doesn't hurt their eyes??

Me:   They're not real.  They don't have eyes.  

ERS:  Ok, I don't think you know what I'm talking about...

Obviously...

Happy Wednesday!