Yes! I'm THAT Mom!

I am totally THAT Mom.

The one that lets them sleep in too late to catch the bus.
The one that leaves my kids in the car with my oldest sometimes for five minutes (only at safe places when I can park right in front and always see the car, of course) while I drop one off for an activity.
The one that has to have a drink at night to wind down from the chaos.
The one that allows my kids to be in way too many activities, even if they are tired, so they are able to have opportunities and make knowledgable choices and decisions for themselves someday.
The one that yells back when they are fighting, but they still don't listen to me anyway.
The one that will let my child eat a cheese sandwich every single day and night for months on end if she'll at least eat something.
The one that doesn't shower if it means that I'll get that 10 extra minutes at my sewing machine.
The one that lets her children sleep with her, because one day they won't want to anymore and I'll be glad I let them.
The one that lets her three year old steal the binky from her brother, because she used to be the baby, and now she isn't anymore.
The one that will allow my seven year old to drive the four-wheeler, as long as she keeps it 10 miles per hour.
The one that doesn't always make them do their homework before they watch TV.
The one that sometimes does let them play video games for hours on end.
The one that doesn't get her kids to eat enough 'greens'.
The one that lets them drink Sprite and Coke, and eat Cheetohs and Fritos every now and then.
The one that doesn't allow sleepovers all that much.
The one that will let her kids choose their own activities, even if I'd prefer they be into something different.
The one that doesn't put up baby gates, because I think they need to learn to navigate stairs, among other things.
The one that does allow her kids to climb upon the counters when they're little. If they can get up there at 18 months, then consider them in training for something great.
The one that puts them to bed, even if I know they forgot to brush their teeth sometimes.
The one that will give them an extra brownie.
The one that will let them learn a hard lesson.

So, don't judge me. I mother my family and my children the way I think is best and the way I feel comfortable.

How did this post come about? The other day, I could feel another mother judge me. You know how you can tell, by the questions they ask, or the tone in their voice. She is a stay-at-home mother of ONE child. I run around crazy like a chicken with my head cut off running around four. I would feel confident to say that she and I cannot relate, and she could not possibly understand why I mother the way I do.

I hate how it makes me feel, or should I say how I allow it to make me feel. We as mothers should ONLY respect how each of us must travel the path of motherhood our own way, none right, none wrong. And if it differs from our own, we should bite our tongues and encourage instead.

Because I can tell you that:
I am the mother that can take care of my own kids.
I am the mother than can give my own kids what they need.
I am the mother that they count on.
I am the mother that they listen to (okay, well sometimes listen to).
I am the mother that listens to them (okay, again, I try to listen to them most of the time--kind of hard when all four are 'talking' at once).
I am the mother that knows what is best for each of their unique selves,and for our family as a whole.
I am the mother that they want.

So I suggest that if you are a mother, and you ever feel judged, and you struggle to let it go, to brush it off your shoulder, the way I failed to let it go, read this. Or call me.

'Professional' Mom

I was listening to K-LOVE via internet and noticed the person 'On Air' was a woman who called herself a Professional Mother. God instantly delivered to me a new perspective.

Here we are, slaving day to day, emotional messes, rarely a shower, going a million miles an hour and if someone asks us what we do, we say 'Oh, I'm just a Mom.' Just a Mom.

How many other jobs must you listen to your children for twenty minutes on the way to pre-school tell you they don't want to go, over and over, and then when you drop them off, they scream and cry as the teachers tell you to 'Please just go ahead and leave. They'll be ok.' You get to spend the rest of your day with your heart shredded in more pieces than any financial office will shred papers in a year.

And what about trying to feed these tiny people? All they want to eat is crap. And we're supposed to make them be all healthy.

I spent all day trying to rework my kid's schedule so that they can do the Fall play they love, with the friends they want to do it with, and ensure they don't have to drop their other favorite activities, also with the friends they want to be with. This included exchanging emails with other parents, teachers, activity instructors, and I even accidentally emailed myself. Twice.

We have to remember what day hot lunch is, when library day is, what homework is due when, when the milk ticket is due, when early out days are, which days the bus comes early, when spirit week is so they can dress all crazy on the proper days, when school pictures are, clean PE shoes, rain jackets, snow jackets, rain boots, snow boots, hats, gloves, snowpants, oh and then take it all back again because Spring is here, and please Moms, help me out, because I am sure I missing 235 other things we remember about school.

So as I thought about what she said, about this Mom thing being a profession, my chin got higher, my chest stuck out, and I suddenly felt really important. Just because the hardest job in the world doesn't pay a dime doesn't mean we shouldn't acknowledge the pressure, the skill, the effort, the achievement, the failures, the successes, and feel the satisfaction of a hard day's work. And reap the reward.

Of course, our reward is better than money anyway. So tomorrow when I'm all strung out because I've been playing Barbies for two hours and trying to 'get stuff done' at the same time, I will remember, what I'm getting from the Barbie-time is where its at.

P.S. My house still looks like it did yesterday. :)

Does your house look like this?

I often get that question, with the subject of four kids in mind, "How do you do it?!" Well, let me tell you. Then let the pictures show you. I am rarely home alone. Therefore, I rarely pick up the house. Why bother? Ten minutes later it will look the same way it did before you picked up. I wait instead until an optimum moment, like before we are going somewhere fun, and make the kids help me. Doesn't always work out, but it's worth the wait. Or, if I am home alone and Andrew is sleeping, I might pick up around my workspaces (where I write and do projects), because my mind works better in a non-cluttered space.

The next 'how does she do it?'. House work. Simple. I don't do it! Ha! Okay, so I do try to keep up with it. But I hate it. Not my cup of coffee. I prefer it black and sitting next to my computer, where I'm writing instead of cleaning. So I just skirt by. Note my laundry room at the moment. I'll get to it. When I know my daughters will have adequate time to put their own clothes away (this can take many hours of probing and then additional hours of actually making it happen!) So, I figure, they've got plenty of clothes. As long as there is at least one item of clothing in their closet to cover their body, they're good to go. If they need something, they know where to find it. Dig through that massive pile!!

We were at a party the other day and I sewed a pair of pants for my sweet niece. They turned out so cute. I'm gonna make a bunch more. Maybe sell them. I also sew ribbons and button on plain t-shirts to jazz them up. This is fun for me. I love sewing. It gives me joy. How do I find the time? Once again, note exhibit A and B in this post. I let all else go. If I'm in the middle of a project or focusing on writing, I let all else go, except the required attention and feeding of my children. Which , of course, that can be intense too, and throw everything off for weeks!

I use to obsess over my house. Not because I am a neat freak. I'm far from it. But because I thought I should be. So now, I just try to be somewhat organized. I hate it when someone comes whining to me about where is my this and where is my that (this includes my husband), so I just want to at least have a general idea of where that item might be. So I don't drive myself crazy. I spend enough time searching the house over eighteen times to find 'that one doggy that has the blue eyes and the tiny paws with brown on the bottom and the orange nose'. Oh yeah, that one.

So, it goes in phases. I have moments (well, maybe A moment here and there) where I work the whole house over, and it's all sparkly and shiny. But it's always a disappointment, because the moment a tiny foot steps in the door, it's all over. So why bother?

I hope you've let it go too. I hope your house looks like mine.

Beautiful Things

Now a slight departure from my usual tone...however, so related.

I joke about motherhood alot. Mostly about how it really drives us all darn near nuts. It's just so hard. I don't care if you have one kid or twenty, it's all relative and it's all hard. Everyone has their own struggles. We have good days and horrible ones. Some days we know we are the absolute BEST mother in the entire world--without a doubt. But most days we feel so mediocre.

So I just had the priviledge of scoring a free download from KLOVE. "Beautiful Things" by a band called Gungor. The primary lyrics say: You make beautiful things out of dust. You make beautiful things out of us.

Does it just nearly make you want to explode at the truth in that? God can make anything beautiful. Most of us have dark corners in our past. Just stop a minute and think about how God has shined the brightest light into that corner. How now, it is your favorite corner, because you gained so much wisdom, or strength, or love, or just something more beautiful than you had before. If you can think about what this is for you--what God took of yours that was scary, or sad, or tramatic, or shameful, or just lonely,and turned it into something amazing--and not shed a tear, I will find it so hard to believe. Let yourself ponder it, and reflect, and cry, and be thankful to God. That in itself is so beautiful.

This blog is dedicated to how crazy life is with children. I joke about all things gone wirey, or out of control, or how easy it would be to just give up. This song just reminds me that even all of that is beautiful.

We all get caught up in our daily lives, forgetting that all around us, God has made beautiful things out of dust. If you haven't heard the song, I highly recommend it. It is sure to help you stay thoughtful about how we are made beautiful.

A Toast to 10

As I sit with a chilled glass of chardonnay on a hot summer Saturday, I feel quite happy about the number 10. Right now in my life, I feel extraordinarily good about this number.

For one, Andrew, who was born in the 10th month of 2010,is going on 10 months old, and he is 10 times sweeter than any other little man in the world!

I have only 10 plants that I have to keep alive this summer. And as I peer through my dusty, rain-spotted windows, I can see they aren't going to make it if I don't get out and water them as soon as I finish this post.

Yesterday, I had to get my phone replaced, because one of our canines mistook my old one for a hamburger. I paid about 10 times more for my new one than I did for my old one, but I got an iPhone (woot woot) on my husband's upgrade, and Clare seems to be really enjoying it. I'd enjoy it too if I ever got to hold it. Of course, my previous phone was cheaper than dirt--you got it; $10. No, really, if you have to buy dirt, it costs more than that!

I love that everything is the 'Top 10 of this' and the 'Top 10 of that'. That is enough reason to love the number 10.

As I approach 40 years old, I realize that I feel about 10 years younger than I really am, which I've heard just thinking this way can add years to your life, and decrease maturity. We all need some of that, right?

I went to garage sales today with my mom, and my two oldest daughters, and I think there were quite a few items that we didn't pay over 10% of what they were asking. Or what is might be worth. Score!

Nearly 10 months of the year is winter or like quasi-winter in Montana, so , well, maybe that's where 10 kinda fails us.

My hubby and I are coming up on our 10 year anniversary. Big kuddos to the number 10 there!

But, I am ready to let you in on my little secret; why the number 10 is so nastalgic for me today. BECAUSE THERE ARE ONLY 10 DAYS UNTIL SCHOOL STARTS! HOORAY--with a cherry on top.

Now, I know all you home-schoolers are shaking your heads and planning your curriculums and buying 10 times(there it is again) the number of school supplies as I am, but I can only say that I am very glad that I am not you. I WILL say that I admire you, I nearly worship the ground you walk on and pray to inherit at least 10% of the patience that you must have. You are many of my friends and I love you dearly, but I'll continue to leave it up to you. My kids, I like to think they THRIVE in school, with teachers and stuff, and who cares what else, because they aren't home! Ha! Just kidding, I do care. My kids are smarty pants, but they adjust well to whatever activity and are very socially well-rounded. I LOVE their teachers at Cayuse Prairie, and feel tremendously blessed that I will have two kids in school (finally, at least half) with fabulous teachers, and they will be having a great time. So I am a lucky one. My kids love school. When I ask a lot of kids if they are ready for school to start as summer is winding down, they all seem to say "no way!" You ask my kids that and you'll get an enthusiastic "yes!" I don't know if that means they are just bored out of their wits at home, but I do believe that even if there is a little bit of that, it's probably only about 10%. :)

My kids love school. And I love it when they are there. Mommy gets to have a life again, like exercise, and cook, and do my art and writing and reading. Mommy is a person too. But I only get about 10% of mommy time in summer.

We've had a great summer, but today, I love the number 10. Everyone loves to be number one--and number one, I love you too, but I'm gonna love you the most in nine days!

Pulling the Plug

There are just those days when you feel like a terrible mom. These days seem to quadrouple in the summer, when the kids are tired and whiney, the house looks like a national disaster declaration, and when you're even more tired than they are so you just throw them a bag of cheetoh for dinner. Usually, I wake up the next morning, and it's a new day, and I can make up for it somehow; you know, like put milk in the cereal today.

But these are the little things. The things that are just day to day, you know some days will be better than others, and you know you can tweak them just by adding a little more love to a certain area, whether it's preparing a healthier meal, or doing an extra load of laundry.

So what about those big steps we have to handle? Their first step. Potty training. Off to school. What if we don't nail these on the first try? Again, for the most part, we can wait awhile and then try again. They are gonna get it eventually.

However, I'm in the midst of a new struggle. The binky.

Our three year old is over-the-top addicted to the thing. It's her comfort, her blankey, her teddy bear.

When my second daughter knew the binky monster was coming, she gladly placed all of her binkys into an envelope and put it gently under her pillow, as if not to disturb all the precious binkys that would now be going to the babies in the world that really needed them.

Not my three year old. She wanted nothing to do with that envelope. She hoarded her binkys and started hiding them. The binky monster even came during the day when she was gone, and left her a toy. That lasted 10 minutes. She was begging for binky.

Now she just steals her baby brother's binky. She's ruthless. He could be wailing, but she won't give it back.

When she starts pre-school, she won't be able to have it. That's on our side. But will she forever be sneaking binkys? Will she be 13 and stealing them from the kids she is watching? Or worse, will she use the money she earns to buy more?

Okay, okay. I know, it's just like the potty training. All in their own time. It will happen. It is time to pull the plug, but sometimes when you pull it, it doesn't drain...it's just all blocked with guk and slime. You need a plumber, outside assistance. I think that will be the key. Outside assistance. The places she wants to go this fall that won't allow it...dance class, pre-school, a day at the park.

We think we are terrible parents when our kids will do things for others that they will not do for us, but that's where we have to let go, realize it's a blessing. It shows they do understand, and they do know right and wrong. They'll get there, some kids just gotta pull the plug themselves.

Santa In Summer

We as parents know how hard summer can be. Kids home, fighting, wanting stuff to do, leaving the house a mess, forgetting to brush their teeth without me hounding them, going to bed late, sleeping in, waking up the baby, crawling in my lap when I'm on the computer, slaming doors,and if only we could just get out of the house more-- they want to go places and it can be just too hard to take them there due to the baby.

Therefore, I am grateful to Santa. He has showed up in our lives twice this summer. The first time was at the St. Mary's campground. He was a bus driver for a youth camp. He hung out with us a bit, and was sweet to the girls. Clare just knew he was the real one. She even checked his cell phone when he wasn't looking, and sure enough, the name on it was 'Santa.'

A few weeks later we were driving to Bigfork, and a Santa was red hot on our tail, driving his red Mustang convertible. He was following us super close and finally passed.

That sealed the deal. The kids knew that Santa really was watching them. "Do you think it's because we've been fighting so much this summer?" They asked.

"I don't know, but I would say that's a very good guess."

The fighting has actually been better since. Not gone completely. Not perfect. Not even great, but better.

Thanks, Santa. Clearly, you were in my summer survival kit.