Oh, wait...Friday won't take away my troubles.
Is it Saturday, then?
Ummm...no. Saturday will have no more success taking away the daily distresses than Friday had.
Sigh.
I guess I just need to hold on and hang in for the long haul.
In the mean time, I will pretend that Claude and I were not woken up sometime in the middle of night by a 45 minute tantrum.
No, it wasn't a night terror. It was a full-fledged "I didn't get what I wanted so I'm going to scream as loud as I possibly can for as long as I can stand it to see if you'll give in" fit.
I will also pretend that the morning has not included another hour of screaming and outright disobedience from the afrementioned middle of the night tantrum thrower.
No, this child is not ill. This child simply wants his/her own way.
Instead, I already took a few minutes to stand on our giant porch. I listened to the birds chirping and the general calming sounds of nature. Of course, I ignored the sound of cars racing down out little country highway and the smell of the trash cans that were sitting right in front of me.
I snapped the below photograph before heading inside.
This is the view from our
kitchen window. Green. Crisp. Spring. Isn't it beautiful?
Now, I will poor a cup of tea and continue on with the morning routine as usual.
And wait for Friday in the hope that it will start off a better foot than Thursday has.
After our firstborn, we kind of thought we had seen it all. Super strong will. Super intense personality. Pushing the boundaries - discipline-wise and also academically.
As an infant he didn't sleep well at night. In fact, he was two years old before he ever slept through the night. The Lord humbled us very quickly with that first experience.
And, because He knows better than we do, God continues to humble us even today.
Until our fifth child, we never had a "runner". You know, those kids that won't stay with their parent out in public? In the blink of an eye they are across the playground, in the middle of the street, or lost in the crowd.
Four kids we have had. Four kids who hold on to the stroller and stick by our side very consistently. I have never had to chase a child down. We haven't had any that run off just for the fun of it. Quite frankly, they have probably been too afraid. They like to stay within at least some of the boundaries placed around them. :)
Until now.
Meet Rachel.
She runs. She runs without regard to how far away she may get from the rest of the Crew. No fear here. She will now hold on to the stroller only because she wants to be like her older brothers and sisters. Praise the Lord for years of training the older ones to stick together!
Not only does Rachel run, but she shrieks. Yes. I do mean shrieking. This is not merely fussing or crying. At birth she took a few minutes to let out a good cry. We were a bit concerned until we heard it - the loudest newborn cry that graced our ears up to that point. She continues to be loud. I guess it's necessary being the fifth in line. She won't get overlooked around here, that's for certain!
And, that's not all. Rachel runs. Rachel shrieks. And Rachel hits. When she gets angry she raises her hand in readiness to smack the nearest offending object. Sometimes it's Jeremiah's head. Sometimes it's even Daddy or Mommy's arm or leg. No bounds does her temper currently know.
Lastly, Rachel throws. She really does. Upset that Mom gave you water instead of peanut butter? Chuck the cup. Angry that you have to go down for a nap when you would rather build with Duplos? Chuck the nearest block.
She is fiery. She is a fighter. And she is learning that these outbursts are not appropriate ways to express her personality.
We thought we had seen it all. Now the super strong will, intense personality, pushing the boundaries kind of kid is wrapped up in 23 pounds of cuddly Rachel goodness. Although we have learned many valuable lessons with our other children, we are out of our reckoning...again.
You can have a handful of kids. You can think you've seen it all. But friends, you haven't. We haven't. No one has.
Let's be humble. Before you go and judge that mother whose son runs into the parking lot at every opportunity, remember that you haven't seen it all. Your kids just may not be runners. Before you try and explain how easily you potty-trained your daughter, remember that your kid is not your friend's kid. Your child may just have a knack for keeping her pants dry. Before you launch into the best and only way for your neighbor's child to sleep through the night, preface it by saying this is just what worked for you. It may not work for someone else.
Kids come in all shapes and sizes. Their temperaments vary greatly even within the same family unit. Their personalities, individual bents, and quirks are not duplicated in any other little person. If you're like me, maybe it takes having several different children to really get this - not just to say it, but to really know it. But if you're wiser than I am, which you probably are, learn it now.
All shapes. All sizes. One amazing Creator. And a bunch of perplexed parents. I guess we're in need of grace because there's no way we're going to find a formula with this kind of mess!
I'm not exactly the "funnest" mom on the block. When it comes to special outings and little extras I just don't do very well. I enjoy spending time with the kids, but the days are full of meals, dishes, laundry, schoolwork, diaper changes, and discipline. Of course, they are also full of cuddles, laughs, funny things the little guys say, and interesting conversations with the older crew.
In an attempt to be fun and spontaneous, I planned a little escapade for last weekend. Claude was out at a 50K, camping overnight in the little van so as not to miss an early morning start. I thought, why not take the kids camping while he was away?
Before you start thinking that I'm some kind of super mom, just check out our campsite.
Our very large toy room (soon to be occasional guest room) seemed like the perfect spot for our 9 person tent. Of course, it had to actually fit.
Which it did. Perfectly.
We started our campout with a rousing game of Memory.
The kids were bouncing off the walls (literally...if they could defy gravity they would have been up and down and all around the walls and ceiling). The excitement was extreme, and they didn't even know that we were sleeping in the tent. They were wired from a day of merely playing in the tent.
I went for easy, camping kind of food - hot dogs and frozen peas (still frozen) served in coffee filters.
*Note: Coffee filters are my new favorite way to serve everything from hot dogs and sandwiches, to popcorn and pickles. Try them. They are awesome. Cheap. Compact in the trash. No washing necessary.
Next we enjoyed S'mores, which I made in the oven. Half a marshmallow, two pieces of chocolate, and a two graham cracker halves. The kids each had about three, but even with that their sugar intake was significantly less than if we had used full marshmallows and twice as much chocolate.
Everyone thoroughly enjoyed them.
Here are a few of the messy faces.
While the older three kiddos watched "Milo and Otis" (which, by the way, scared Abby immensely), I sat upstairs to monitor the little guys. They did well, but boy did they blow a lot of raspberries before they finally conked out. My lips were tingly and then numb just listening to them!
And then, before I knew it, everyone was sound asleep. One was even snoring. One claimed to have stayed awake the whole night. :)
And then Rachel woke up three times in the night.
And then she cuddled with me on my mattress and we slept for a while. And then she woke up, walked all over the tent, and brought things to drop on my head. And then she toddled down the stairs with me at 5am because I finally caved and decided to give her a bottle of milk.
We slept beautifully after that. :)
And then the morning came and with it the metldowns and grumpy attitudes I had feared. Saturday was a bit rough and I was so glad when Claude walked through the door!
We had fun. Made some memories. And learned some rules about tent dwelling. Now that we've had a practice run maybe we'll attempt a "real" camping trip!
Have you ever felt as if you were being watched? You can just sense that somewhere out of your own line of sight there is a pair of eyes following you, observing every move you make. You may begin to feel nervous. You may become acutely aware of what you are doing and how you are doing it. Most likely you will not be relaxed and will probably have a hard time acting "normal" under the pressure.
I happen to know tha I am being watched most of the time. How do I know this? Because the little pairs of eyes that are watching me are connected to little mouths. And these little mouths love to report what their little eyes see.
I can be standing at the sink and from the table I will hear, "She's putting soap on the sponge."
"Yeah, now she's filling the sink with water."
"Oh, yeah...and she's scrubbing the pan."
Or I may hear the following, "She's getting milk out of the fridge."
"Now she's getting a cup. Ooh, it's a glass cup!"
"Uh-huh. And now she's putting milk in her cup. I bet she's going to drink it."
And I just think, "Guys, I'm right here! I can hear everything you are saying about me!"
Everything I do is under scrutiny. I can't enter a room, leave a room, or go to the bathroom without at least one pair of eyes watching my every move. Even as I write this post there is a pair of eyes reading over my shoulder!
Having five sets of eyes watching me day in and day out is one thing. But the constant commentary is a totally different story. It's like if an Olympic athlete had an earbud to hear everything the commentators were saying about them and their performance while they were performing!
I have a particular memory from my childhood that strikes me as funny right about now. I was with my family at my grandparents' house. All of the aunts, uncles, and cousins were visiting, probably for a holiday. At a rough estimate I would say that there were at least 25 people in one fairly small house. Not just any 25 people but 25 very loud people (for the most part).
Being a part of that brood, I got used to the noise, but I didn't like it much. I learned that I could sneak off to a small room above the garage, curl up with a book, and only have to deal with the din of all the commotion happening downstairs. I was in such a corner of the house one evening when I heard an announcement for dinner. I didn't go down. I figured it would be a while before food was actually dished up and surely someone would come and get me before it was too late.
I don't know how long I was up there, but it became obvious that no one realized I was missing. Feeling a bit dejected, I wondered if anyone would ever know that I was gone. Would my parents? My siblings? A cousin, maybe? My grandma? When I could hear the sounds of a full-fledged family dinner going on below me, it hit me. I had been forgotten.
Of course, I didn't stay forgotten. My dad came in search for me at some point and I went downstairs to join the crowd.
If only I could be forgotten like that in this stage of life. Oh, the autonomy! Oh, the freedom! Time to go to a quiet corner and read a book without anyone saying, "Look, she's reading a book."
It's all about perspective, right? Being lost in a crowd of boisterous family members gets a little discouraging. Being watched on a moment by moment basis gets a little annoying. On one hand you want to get a little attention on yourself so you don't feel left out. On the other hand, to slip under the radar every once in a while would be refreshing.
For the time being I'll just stay under the watchful eyes of my children. I'm told that they will not always be this young and that one day they won't follow me to the bathroom. Hallelujah for the hope of privacy one day! ;)
The morning was great. We got up, made it through our morning routine, even read a few books with the little kids. School time was smooth. Everyone was in their places doing what they were supposed to be doing. It was a good day.
12:05pm - Two children began throwing tantrums for different reasons. I cleaned up Rachel from her lunch, attempted to put her in her bed and quickly realized that she needed a new diaper in a bad way. Jeremiah walked in the room and it became obvious that he also needed a new diaper. So I began the process.
12:15pm - Both tantrums persisted as I cleaned up the little guys' diapers. Both messes were a bit bigger than I had anticipated. Rachel needed a new shirt. Neither diaper swished out in the toilet nicely.
12:20pm - One tantrum ceased, but the other ramped up as I rinsed out some pretty fowl cloth diapers. It didn't take long to be literally elbow deep in some pretty mucky water. Ewww...
12:22pm - Hannah comes through the front door, screaming, "Abby won't let go of the jump rope and I already asked her to!" Oh, yes...this requires my direct attention. Not. I send Hannah back out to resolve the jump rope issue with her younger sister.
12:24pm - Still up to my elbows in diaper water, trying to keep Rachel out from underfoot, and Hannah enters yet again. This time sreaming about ten times louder than the last time. "Abby hit me with the recorder!" Cry. Sob. Jump up and down. Yep. Another tantrum. At least the tantrum from the other room had toned down to some moaning and groaning.
12:30pm - I look up to explain to Hannah that I cannot deal with the recorder/jump rope situation because my hands are covered in poopy water. I see blood streaming down her face. A blood nose. Perfect. I send Hannah to get some tissue.
12:33pm - The diapers are rinsed. My hands are scrubbed. The bath tub is bleached. Hannah is still freaking out. She runs in to find me and I send her right back to the bathroom where she started. She leaves a drippy trail of blood through most of the downstairs. My usual pregnancy heartburn rears a very ugly head about now. Oh, well...no time for that. I get the hydrogen peroxide, put Rachel in her play yard, and hope that this is over soon.
12:35pm - After cleaning the blood trail, I find Hannah standing over the toilet. Screaming. There is blood everywhere. Her hands and arms are covered. Her clothes are covered. The toilet seat is covered. Blood is splattered on the walls, the floor, the outside of the toilet, the sink, the mirror. I'm glad I have the hydrogen peroxide and that I apparently have a strong stomach after working through those messy cloth diapers. I start cleaning.
12:45pm - Hannah is clean and changing into fresh clothing. Her nose is no longer bleeding. The bathroom is clean. The laundry has been rinsed with hydrogen peroxide to prevent stains and is in the washing machine. All tantrums have stopped.
12:50pm - Three of the kids are playing play dough. They are laughing as if none of them had thrown a tantrum, produced a blow out poop, had a blood nose, or beat up their older sibling with a recorder. (Please note, the blood nose was NOT from Abby. It happened all on its own.) Rachel is in bed, not asleep yet, but on her way. And the complaining from Tantrum-Thrower Number One has ceased. Now it's time to dictate a spelling list, supervise violin practice, heat up lunch, and prod the preschoolers as they clean up the Duplos.
If ever you hear a mother or father with a few (or more!) small children in their constant care, this is what you should think of when they say things are "busy", "hectic", "crazy", "exhausting", "tiring", or "non-stop" at their house. This can happen any time of day or night without warning, without due cause. Things are running smoothly and then BAM! Everything spontaneously combusts and chaos abounds for 45 minutes.
Okay...so on a good day it only lasts 45 minutes. I won't even get into what a bad day can look like. You're smart. I'm sure you can imagine.
After you have imagined, then you can say a prayer for any parents you know who have a troop of little tikes at home. You may just be praying at the precise moment that a blood nose, two tantrums, two incredibly messy diapers, some heartburn, and a few other urgent matters collide in one big train wreck.
I'll preface this by saying that I am not currently in this specific situation, but I have been and boy is it a Catch-22.
See, to some people I have it all together. Or at least I think they think I have it all together. Why do I think this? Because they talk to me as if I know what I'm doing and I'm somehow rocking this motherhood thing.
A few years ago I was going through a very tough time. I'm not sure what was up - I could have been depressed, or overwhelmed, or lonely, or discouraged, or all of the above. Most mornings I woke up much later than I should have, stared across the floor and thought, "How could this be my life? What am I doing here? What am I accomplishing? I can't do this! Can't someone else be the mom today?"
I struggled with finding purpose - even though I knew in my head the grand purpose of raising little ones. I struggled with finding strength - even though I knew the One who could sustain me. And yes, I was praying every moment that He would help me through the day. I struggled with being joyful - even though I was actually happy being a stay-at-home mom.
I often think of that time as treading water. I was out in the deep end, the shore was out of sight, and I lacked the strength to swim. So I treaded water, doing my best, prayer by prayer, day by day, to keep from drowning.
To others it may have looked like I was doing just fine. What they didn't know was that I was a few strokes away from going under. And even though I was as honest as I could be about it, not many people believed me. They believed only what they saw - I was keeping my head above water.
During this season, people would compliment me on my mothering abilities. And it killed me every time.
"You are so patient!"
"No, I'm really not. In fact, I really struggle with patience."
"And you're humble, too!"
If they only knew how I was actually feeling. If they knew the challenges I was facing - perceived and real. If they knew that I wasn't being humble when I said I wasn't patient. I was telling the truth. It was the only way I knew to share the fact that I really wasn't okay.
I didn't have it all together.
But when you look like you have it all together it's hard for others to believe that you don't.
In the end I didn't have the capacity to try and make people believe that I was on the cusp of drowning. All I could do was call on the Lord to deliver me, moment by moment, day by day. He knew the reality of my situation. And He was faithful to get me through.
Being on the other end of that difficult season, I see how God used it to strengthen my arms for the task ahead of me. Now that I developed all of those water-treading muscles I really do have it all together...NOT!
At least more of the stress is obvious to even the most obtuse observers. I mean, who would think that a woman who can't remember her own phone number has it all together?
