God is SO good

I need to gush, plain and simple.

God is so good. I looked at my sweet little children this morning, and felt joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.

Ten years ago, I was in the throes of infertility. We'd been trying to get pregnant for a long time, but a long-undiagnosed hormone disorder was making that exceedingly difficult. I was obsessed with getting pregnant. I charted every cycle, I read everything I could find about maximizing my chances of getting pregnant. We spent thousands of dollars on fertility treatments that never did work. There were moments when I felt I would probably do just about anything to have a baby. But the hardest part was the fear; not knowing if I would ever be a mother. Would I always look at pregnant women with that feeling of sadness, of jealousy? Would I always cry after baby showers and avoid the baby aisles in stores? Would I ever be able to simply be happy for my pregnant friends, without that aura of sadness creeping in through the cracks in my resolve?

The answer, in time, was yes. I was blessed abundantly with three amazing children, and that feeling of fear, of pain, of sadness, gradually dwindled away. Each pregnancy was a triumph, each time my belly swelled it healed me a bit more. Those stretch marks and sags and the pits in my hip bones are badges of honor, of victory, of blessing.

And those children. Oh, how I love them. My heart swells with joy and love, and the amazing thing is sometimes, I can almost feel the flow of love that runs from the Father, through me, to them. The parenting analogy has produced such profound understanding for me - if God loves us even a fraction as much as I love those little people, His love is huge. And He loves us infinitely more. That blows. my. mind. Because I look at those crazy little people He gave me, and I can't imagine my heart being big enough to produce so much love. I can't fathom someone loving me that much. And yet, He does, that and so much more.

My life has been rocky this past year and a half. But nothing, nothing at all could compare with the sight of those three little people. Motherhood is not all sunshine and rainbows, but sometimes it is. Sometimes all I feel for them is a bursting of love and happiness and contentment; a feeling of profound gratitude that I was given this amazing gift. I don't deserve one inch of it, and yet He answered my prayers. He answered my prayers in ways I never could have imagined, or planned, or hoped for.

God is so good.

Finding my joy in little green army men

I just had a moment that almost brought me to my knees. I've been in a funk lately. I'm too tired, too lethargic, too stressed, too unmotivated, procrastinating everything and generally feeling crappy. I've been feeling like there's just too much to do, my house is always a mess, I'm always behind, etc. etc.

I was walking through my room, making the pile of unfolded laundry a slightly more organized pile, and looking around at the army men, pencils and markers, books, and hand-sewn pillows that are currently cluttering my floor. My first thought was to be annoyed - why do they have to leave their crap all over MY floor too? It's bad enough that their rooms are messy, the upstairs is messy, the kitchen is messy. Why here too? This is my room, damnit.

And then it hit me and it brought me to tears. I have kids making a mess.

I have kids.

I didn't always know I'd have kids because for several years, we couldn't seem to manage it. Have I forgotten those days, when I prayed for them? Has it been so long that I don't remember? How can I forget those morning drives to work, my heart full of prayers for a baby? How can I lose the sense of despair I felt, not knowing if I would ever be a mother? How can I forget what it was like to want something so desperately that I would have done anything, paid anything, to have it?

I have it now. And damn, but I've been taking it for granted lately.

My life is not so hard that I need to walk around in a cloud of meloncholy. I mean, really. Yes, my life is sometimes chaotic, and almost always messy. But really, would I give up the mess? Would I trade in those precious, precious little people for more order, for less responsibility, for more time? Oh hell no.

God hit me over the head with that one, and what's funny is, I've been asking Him to do it. I've been asking Him to remind me, to help me find my joy.

I found it in some little green army men.

Making time for the littlest one

I'm cute, even with a dirty face

Today I took my 3 year old daughter with me to Costco. It was just the two of us; the boys went with Daddy to get the oil changed on our truck (man time - very important!). As we headed out of our neighborhood, we passed the neighborhood school; the school my oldest went to for his kindergarten year, and the school both my boys would be attending if we weren't homeschooling.

The thought occurred to me, as I enjoyed some silly banter with my girly-girl, that she might be missing out on some special one-on-one time because the boys are home. We don't drop them off at school in the morning, and then head out to run errands together, or go home and read picture books and build puzzles, just the two of us. It is rare that she gets me all to herself, and if the boys were in a traditional school, she would.

Am I missing something here? In choosing to homeschool based primarily on where my oldest son was at the time, did I overlook the time my daughter would have had alone with Mommy during these precious preschool-ish years?

Perhaps.

I admit it sent me down the mommy-guilt road, even if just for a little while. She does love her mommy time, and yes she does have less of it than she might have otherwise. At least for now.

But she does have other things, as a result of this funny life we live. And she'll have even more of those other things as she grows - things she wouldn't have if we weren't home educating.

She has time with her brothers. They are home with us all the time, but really, that's a plus. They all love each other a heck of a lot, and get along pretty well. Maybe I'm in for it later, but there isn't a ton of bickering amongst my kids; some, but not the overwhelming sort that makes me wish I could pack them off to school all day.

She has all sorts of learning opportunities at their side. We go on field trips as a family. She goes to the art museums and the ballet performances and the nature walks and the zoo trips. She sits at the table with us as we work and colors or cuts paper. She sees them reading and working and learning; these things are simply a part of our days, a part of our life, a part of our world.

In the long run, she'll have far more time with me, alone and otherwise, than she would if she was headed for school in a year or two. She may not have mornings alone with mommy while her brothers are at school, but she also won't be away from me at preschool (and isn't now) for several hours a week. And later, she won't be away from me for 7 hours a day, as she would if she were traditionally schooled. I think my worries about time spent with her are truly no worry at all.

The key to making this life work well for all of them, I think, is to mindfully spend time with each of them, each day. That has always been easy with my oldest; he loves attention and if he's feeling neglected, he will be right there to tell you all about it. I naturally spend most of our school time with him; he's older with more work to do. I've recognized that for a long time, and done my best to make sure to attend to the needs of my younger son as best I can. He's quieter in his own fashion, and doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeve, so I know I need to come to him to fill up his "love tank."

But my sweet girl, she needs that same effort. She needs to be held and loved and read to. She needs me to sit with her and watch her paste stickers or glob glue on construction paper. She needs me to integrate her into our day as I can, instead of pushing her off so I can get things done with her brothers.

It isn't easy, I'll tell you that. Schooling two instead of just one this year has made a pretty significant difference in how our days flow, even though my kindergartner's workload is gentle. Adding a third is a challenge. And it isn't a curriculum or a set of plans that she needs. She just needs time. I have the resources; the books, the toys, the art supplies. I just need to be sure to set aside the time to be with her. It's what I'm working on as we head into the second month of the year.

Yoga pants

I just saw this funny ecard on Pinterest, and I totally relate:

Of course it does - especially if you've showered first

But then I was all, wait a sec... I wear black yoga pants almost every day. To me, that IS getting dressed, and not in a funny "oh yeah, this phase of life means I'm a slob" way. I just wear them.

Granted, I get dressed up to go out (mostly). I'll throw on jeans if we have to leave the house (and yes, that does qualify as "dressing up," thankyouverymuch). And my very favorite fashion trend ever is the scarf. I can wear jeans and a plain t-shirt, tie a scarf around my neck, and suddenly I look all put together and stuff.

And don't get me started on my knee high boots. I hope that trend never goes away, ever.

But at home? Yoga pants. And honestly, why the heck not? I am not a fashion-y person. I like to look cute, but my fashion sense is really basic and I absolutely value comfort. So yoga pants, a t-shirt and an open cardigan over the top? Heck yeah. That's homeschool mommy finery right there. But I don't feel the least bit sloppy in them - I just feel comfy-cozy. And cute, gosh darnit. Those babies make my tushie look good :).

I guess the implication to the mom in yoga pants is that she no longer cares enough about herself to put effort into hear appearance; that she doesn't value her place in the world because she's spending all her time caring for little people, so what does it matter what she wears.

There is something to be said for putting care into your appearance. Doing something with my hair and putting on a little makeup go a long way to making me feel put together, presentable and pretty. And I do those things regularly. But when we're home, makeup or no, I like my yoga pants. I don't feel frumpy or sloppy in them - I feel just right, and silly internet meme or no, I'm sticking with 'em!

I'm counting this as one of the benefits of being a stay-home-mommy. Yoga pants for the win!

Being open to life isn't only what you think

A few weeks ago, I was at mass with my three kids. Daddy couldn't be with us, so I was braving the pews with my young children alone (they are 7, 5 and 3). This isn't usually a big deal. My kids aren't perfect (naturally), but they are pretty well behaved. They're used to mass, they know what is expected, and most of the time, they are just fine.

Not that Sunday.

My boys asked to sit in the front row, but that was clearly a mistake. Often the front row affords them an unobstructed view of the altar and the priest and they wind up watching what is happening a little more - and squirming and making noise a little less. That day it simply meant the whole parish had an unobstructed view of my kids being monkeys.

I did my best to keep them calm and quiet. I'm certain it was clear to anyone watching that I was struggling with my kids, but I wasn't letting them run rampant by any stretch of the imagination. And really, they weren't that bad. They were squirrely, and talking too much, and my oldest son kept making my 3 year old daughter laugh. But I've seen worse.

We'd almost made it through the entire mass. I had successfully navigated potty trips, discarded shoes, attempts to twirl, tickle, and drop things, and had hustled us back to our seats after receiving Communion. Then, as I held my daughter in my lap, insisting my other two keep to their seats, someone came up to me (an usher, I believe), knelt down and quickly said, "Could you please move to the back of the church? Your kids are distracting people."

<Insert me with my jaw on the floor here.>

He walked away quickly, not even giving me a chance to respond. I was floored. Absolutely floored. Communion was nearly over (which means mass was nearly over), and my kids were seated. Yes, we'd had a challenging time that morning, but it wasn't as if I'd had screaming and crying children and I did nothing. The worst thing they did was giggle loudly a lot.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I gathered up my kids and all our stuff and high tailed it to the parking lot. I just wanted out of there. I was so hurt and humiliated. I felt as if everyone in church must have been watching me, judging me. I felt betrayed and unwelcome.

In all the time we've attended mass at this parish, we have never been made to feel unwelcome or that our kids were a problem. We love our parish, and most of the time the atmosphere is very welcoming to families with children of all ages.

I was horrified that day, and also surprised that the comment hurt me so deeply. And then I got to thinking; what if it hadn't been me? What if it hadn't been someone who is a solid member of the parish community? What if it had been someone new? Perhaps someone who had been away from the church for a while? Someone who felt like I did when my first son was a baby, that taking kids to church just wasn't worth the hassle? I remember feeling that way very well. And if someone had asked me to move to the back of the church in those days - I never would have gone back.

As Catholics, we are called to be open to life. I'd wager most people assume that only applies to married couples. I say, it applies to each and every one of us. We have to be open to life, not just as families, but as faith communities. We cannot ask parents to be open to new life, and then shun them or shame them when they bring those new lives into our midst at mass. We have to embrace them, support them, love them all the more because they are bringing up the next generation of Catholics. If we drive them all away because someone doesn't like crying babies at mass, where will our church be in 10 years? In 20 years?

Being open to life means we must embrace the young families at our parishes. We must welcome them, smile at them knowingly when their babies cry and their toddlers throw a fit. We must help them pick up their spilt cheerios and offer scraps of drawing paper and pens to help distract their little ones. At the very least, we must not cast our eyes askance at them when their children act up. Children will be children, and I remember well how difficult mass can be when you are young. No, kids can't sit still; they can't always be quiet. They will be disruptive sometimes, but life with children is disruptive and messy and chaotic and wonderful. These children who are crying and squirming and interrupting - these children are the future of our church and their mothers and fathers are in desperate need of our loving support.

So if you see a mother at church, struggling to contain her young ones, consider offering to help or at least offering her a warm smile. She's probably doing the best she can, and I think we should praise God that she is there at all.

On busyness and filling our time

Life with kids is busy.

Whether they work outside the home, stay home full time, or some combination; whether they drive carpool to school, put kids on a bus, or homeschool - parents are busy. From morning till night, parents live in a crazy world of preparing meals, dressing, correcting, loving, reading, playing, watching and otherwise being with their kids.

During my oldest son's kindergarten year, when I was staunchly trying to avoid the little voice in my head that was trying to get me to think about homeschooling, one of my main fears and objections (when I would allow myself to consider the possibility), was that I was too busy to homeschool. How could I possibly fit it in? It would be so much work!

In fact, that's one of the things people often say to me when the subject comes up. "I could never homeschool! I don't have time! I don't know how you do it!" That, along with "I don't have the patience," probably tops the list of responses I get when I mention I homeschool.

I was thinking about that today - about how concerned I was about the busyness of homeschooling. But the truth is, I don't know that I'd feel any less busy if my kids were attending school. Granted, maybe if you added up the time I spend doing things all day, every day, there would be less to do if I wasn't homeschooling. But in terms of how I feel about it? I don't know that I'd feel some overabundance of time if I wasn't homeschooling.

Granted, my life feels crazy busy a lot of the time. But if I was sending the kids to traditional school, there would be early mornings to get everyone up and dressed, lunches to be made, and kids to hurry off to school. My daughter would still be home with me, and there would still be errands to run, things to do at home, and a child to entertain. This year, with a kinder and a 2nd grader, school pick up would be at two different times. Then afternoons full of homework and trying to fit in any other activities or interests. Dinner, a little time after, and the bedtime routine would follow.

I bet I'd collapse into bed just as tired as I am now.

I think very often, we let our tasks fill up the space we have. If we have 5 things to do, it could take all day, even if we're capable of accomplishing 10. But when we have those 10 things to do, we make it happen (or sometimes not - case in point, laundry in this house). After a while with more to accomplish in a day, you grow accustomed to it, and it becomes the new normal. Sort of like once you've had several children, you wonder what was so hard about parenting one. But parenting one child did seem to take up all the time in the day, yet people manage to add one, two, three, four, or more to their families. We fill the time we have.

Just some random musings today I guess.

"Because I said so!"

Have you ever found yourself, usually in a moment of frustration with your kids, echoing the words of your own parents? Whether it be "First name, middle name!" or "Because I said so!" or perhaps, "There are starving people in the world who would be happy to have that dinner!".... it probably makes you cringe, at least a little. Maybe a lot.

But sometimes they just give you good ideas.

When I was a kid, probably around 10 years old, my younger brother and I were with my dad (divorced parents, we lived with Dad on weekends). We tended to bicker quite a bit and at some point, my dad had had enough. He tape recorded us fighting and then made us listen to it. I still remember it, all these years later. It was so horrifying, to hear my awful little voice whining at my brother over absolutely nothing. I hated it so much, I remember begging him to turn it off. I'm sure it didn't stop us from fighting forever, but I bet the rest of our weekend was darn right peaceful.

Tonight my oldest son was gearing up for a little bedtime dramatics. He was completely fine until the second I was closing the door, when suddenly out of nowhere, he had a "weird feeling in his throat." Oh boy. We've been through this particular "situation" a couple of times in the last few months. Weird feeling in throat leads to overly dramatic freak out session wherein child believes he has either been poisoned, has some sort of inexplicable disorder in which he will not be able to continue breathing once he falls asleep, despite the fact that he has always been completely healthy, or some other equally ridiculous concoction. The poor kid has just the right personality/temperament/physiology combination for these kinds of bedtime hysterics (and I mean hysterics - the first time he pulled the "weird throat thing" it took forever to calm him down). He's a worrier by nature, and coupled with being rather bright and inquisitive along with extraordinarily sensitive to being even the least bit sleep deprived.. it's a recipe for nighttime meltdowns. (Not that this is typical behavior, really - but he tends to be the boy who cried "something is wrong with me!" so we're pretty well versed in his brand of drama.)

Tonight I tried to convince him that he was fine (since the other time he's had a "weird feeling in his throat" he's been completely fine physically), but he was headed down the too-upset-to-reason-with road on a fast track to meltdown-city. He followed me out when I attempted to just leave the room (to say I was highly frustrated would be an understatement), and despite my ordering him back to bed, he stood there half-crying and looking at me like I was supposed to wave a magic wand and make him feel better. That, or let him get up and hang out until he feels better. (Sorry buddy, ain't happenin').

Then it occurred to me - the camera. I quickly grabbed my little point and shoot, clicked it to "video" and before I could point it at him, he'd bolted, attempting to hide in his closet. I followed him in, recording, and by the time his brother had dug him out from behind a blanket, we were all laughing. I didn't wind up recording any whining or whimpering or random questions about whether something might be in his throat that will inexplicably grow during the night, rendering him unable to speak in the morning. But the very thought of me recording him in a state of upset was enough for him to decide to let it go and calm down. As I left the room for the second time, he gave me a little shrug and smile that said, "Yeah, I know."

Thinking back on my Dad's trick, all I have to say is - well played Dad, well played.

Not raising helpless monkeys - hopefully

I have really good intentions when it comes to teaching my kids to help around the house. I want them to grow up to be self-sufficient humans whose future spouses won't curse my name for doing everything for them and never teaching them to take care of themselves. When I read blog posts or articles about why kids should help around the house, I totally agree with everything they say!

But I'm not very good at making it happen in my home.

The root of the problem is me. I'm lazy and rather adept at procrastination. These are not my best qualities and certainly something I need to work on, for the sake of my own sanity as well as the upbringing of my children and comfort of my family. But there it is. I'm not great at keeping the house cleaned, being organized and minimizing clutter. I have the best of intentions, but without some action, intentions aren't worth much.

I decided a while back that the best thing to do is start small. I instituted "morning chores" for my boys (they are now 5 and 7). I'm sure they are capable of doing more than this, and I'm equally sure I could find some supermama of 10 kids who has them all folding their own laundry at 3. Looking at it that way always made me feel overwhelmed and quit before I even started. So babysteps. They each have one "morning chore" - putting away silverware for my oldest, and putting away the "kid" cups and bowls for my younger son. They're expected to do this each morning and for the most part, we've actually done it. It even gets me in gear and the majority of the time I empty the rest of the dishwasher and put away the breakfast dishes, which gives me a nice jump start to the day.

My other goal was to make picking up toys a regular part of the nighttime routine. I've had less success there, and again, it is all ME. Granted, it is like pulling teeth to get my five year old to clean up toys. He will go from happily playing transformers to writhing on the floor because he's "just too tired" to do anything so strenuous as pick up a lego. It isn't always pleasant and like many things with that particular child, I know the payoff will be worth it in the long run, but the process is rather painful. Plus, I tend to look around and think, "Well, it isn't even that bad. We'll just leave it." But if we didn't "just leave it" and picked up the small messes every day, we'd never get to the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad messes that make my boys groan as soon as I say, "We need to clean up!" The concept of picking up daily instead of waiting for it to really tick me off is something I clearly agree with in my head, and have an unreasonable amount of trouble implementing. Those darn good intentions again.

At this point, I feel like I need to add something more to the mix. I'm awfully tired of the caked toothpaste all over the bathroom and it occurred to me, I ought to make them responsible for cleaning it up. What a concept, right? I know, I'm a little slow. So my next order of business is to come up with a weekly chore list - items that could be done once a week and they could do one thing each day. One of them could be wiping down the bathroom sink and counter. Not so hard. I haven't come up with the entire list yet, but I'm sure I could come up with a few things the boys could do each week that would actually make a bit of a difference in the cleanliness level of our house - dusting, wiping down baseboards, cleaning the sliding glass door. Pretty much anything that involves a spray bottle is a huge hit with them, so as long as I remember to remind them to get their chores done, it should work fairly well. It's just that me-being-lazy thing that gets in the way and conspires to undermine my carefully laid plans.

As for my daughter, well, she's 2. Her time is coming. Just you wait, sister. By the time you're old enough to genuinely help, I'll have this stuff in the bag!

Sick in body, sick in soul

I feel like every time I get sick, all I want to do is write about it. I didn't bother to go back through this blog (or my old one, which I don't think even exists anymore) to see how many times I wrote about the trials of being a sick Mommy. I'll even admit my tongue-in-cheek letter to "HR" the other day wasn't the first time I've written that, or at least a version of it. But I still think it's funny.

In any case, there's something about being sick that makes you so keenly aware of every sensation in your body. On a normal day, I go about my business not worrying too much about how my lungs are feeling or how my throat is so nice and, well you know, not hurting. I don't notice the lack of achiness in my back or limbs or the fact that my head feels, well, normal.

See, that's the thing - normal doesn't feel like much. It escapes our notice. It is the abnormal that draws our attention to our physical presence. My aching head, back and legs, they hurt. They scream sensation incessantly to my brain, as if sending the unending message of, "Pay attention to me!" through my nervous system. Breathing is noticeable because of the heavy, strained feeling of my airways, calling attention to the air as it flows into my body. Ordinarily, I don't experience the feeling of having lungs unless I think about it to take a deep, cleansing breath. Today I feel my lungs as oppressive and painful, sending a message of illness to my brain each time I draw in air.

It occurred to me today that there must be a spiritual connection to our experience of pain and illness. Not just that Christ suffered and therefore we can join our suffering to Him (although that is a pretty weighty concept). There's something to this awareness that illness affords. I am aware of sensations, bombarded by stimuli, bathed in a pool of messages from my body as it fights this infection.

It is a reminder to be aware - not just aware of my body, but aware of my soul. My soul is just as ill as my body is, only in a few days my body will feel better, but my soul will still be steeped in illness. And like a mother who gently strokes the forehead of her feverish child, God reaches out to me to stroke my forehead and help me find the strength to heal. But it isn't my body that worries him nearly as much as my soul - fever or no. The pain in my body is but a mirror to that of my soul and the illness I feel is only a fraction of that which haunts the spirit that is me, the whole of who I am.

I have a natural tendency to try to find God in bad things because I'm convinced it can be done, and because it makes me feel better. In trying to find God in being hit with the flu while caring for three young children, I realized He is there not only holding my hand and stroking my feverish forehead as I have done for my own children, but asking me to look deep inside and see the pain that wracks my soul. And He asks me to work on fixing it.

Or I don't know, maybe I'm just too feverish to be making any sense.

Dear Human Resources,

Dear Human Resources,

I am writing in earnest, as I seem to have missed the memo describing the procedure for calling in sick. Perhaps my assumption of sick days is faulty, but in my previous occupations, at least a small amount of sick time was expected, and given. In my current occupation, of which I have been employed for nearly 7 1/2 years, I have failed to discover the means to actually taking advantage of said sick time, regardless of how ill I have become.

My duties do not seem to lessen in the least during an illness; in fact, they seem to increase exponentially as my underlings appear to be susceptible to similar outbreaks, usually at the most inconvenient of times, and expect me to take care of not only my own needs, but theirs as well.

I implore you - when I am sick, I have great difficulty completing the most basic of tasks. Case in point:

• Homeschool expectations have dropped by a staggering 80% with reading being completed only 50% of the time and math a mere 25%.
• Laundry has gone from a stage 1 to at least a stage 7 in the last 24 hours.
• Dinner this evening consisted of nutritionally suspect items peddled by a creepy clown with a red nose.
• TV watching has increased dramatically, as my ability to cope with my charges has been reduced by at least 75%.
• Dramatic Mommy outbursts have increased by a factor of four, including the need to apologize to underlings for unreasonable voice-raising and multiple assurances that said bad mood is not the fault of the underlings. (At some point it may be prudent to make allowances for therapy in adulthood, in lieu of educational funding.)

I assure you that performance of my job duties will rebound far faster if I am allowed just a small amount of sick time. If someone could reply and inform me of how to apply for such time, it would be greatly appreciated. I can guarantee that my job performance will improve in the following ways, if given adequate sick leave to recover from my illness:

• Homeschool will once again proceed as planned and fun learning experiences will commence.
• Charges will be well fed nutritious food throughout the day.
• While I make no guarantee that laundry will revert to a stage 0 (as in, complete) well, ever - I can assure that the current discrepancy in clean clothes vs. dirty will be rectified to at least am 85/15 ratio.
• TV watching will go back to a far more reasonable amount and expectation of book reading and independent play will increase by 90%.
• Perhaps most importantly, for it underlies the accomplishment of above objectives, Mommy Mood will improve from a -10 to a minimum of a 7, with spikes of 9 and above (especially on sunny days or with added chocolate).

I'd like to take this moment to emphasize that I adore my job and have no desire to give up my title of "Mommy" to these delightful little creatures. Thank you very much for your time.

Sincerely,

Claire
aka. Mommy

Needing a break

My kids are with me all the time. I'm a stay at home mom who now homeschools. Grocery store? Gotta take 'em with me. Costco run? Let's all go. Car needs an oil change? We'll all sit in that stinky waiting room that smells like a mixture of oil, exhaust and cheap coffee. They're my little side kicks. For the most part, this is a good thing. I'm not a perfect mom and I don't have perfect kids, so I won't try to make it sound as if life is always peachy. But overall, I do like things this way.

And sometimes I need a break.

Lately, I'm feeling the strain of having my kids with me all the time. My husband commutes a long way several days a week, so he's gone for at least 12 hours those days. Between that and homeschooling, things have been different this school year and I'm still working out the details of how to make that work (which, like I said, overall I love) without going completely crazy.

I'm feeling a bit batty these days and I think I figured out why. I need to work out. I don't just need to work out, I need to work out in a place and at a time when my kids aren't trying to play with hot wheels cars on the running treadmill or climbing on my back while I attempt a push up (no sir, I am not that strong), or asking me 800 billion questions during the first song on my workout playlist.

My old routine was to workout in the morning, after school drop off. I'd drop off whoever had school that day, take whoever was left with me to the gym, plop them in the nursery and take a class, hit the free weights, whatever. Sixty minutes of bliss. But that routine doesn't work anymore. Mornings are when we do school at home, and I don't think changing that would be a good idea.

Since we started homeschooling, I've tried a few things to get my workouts in - none very successfully. My first solution was to get up at 6am and go to the gym before everyone got up. That had less than stellar results. I am not a morning person. I don't even know what that would be like - to wake up chipper, ready to jump out of bed and get moving. I have to set at least two alarms because the first one never gets me up. I'd have every intention of getting up and going to the gym, but when the alarm went off, I'd find all kinds of reasons why sleeping was a better idea. Then I found myself feeling guilty at night because I'd stay up later than I should, so I'd go to bed feeling kind of anxious, knowing that horrible alarm would be going off long before I was ready for it. And I'd spend my days feeling guilty for not having gotten up and working out, promising myself I would do better, go to bed earlier and get up the next morning - only to stay up a little too late, go to bed feeling anxious, rinse repeat. It wasn't exactly a healthy scenario.

I scrapped the gym, tried working out at home, which meant I could sleep a little later. That didn't work much better.

Then I got a little smarter, and decided to quit doing the same thing over and over. I figured since I wasn't going to the gym anyway, why not just work out in the afternoon, at home. I could get in a quick workout while my daughter was napping. The boys are used to having some downtime during her nap anyway, so all I'd have to do is pry myself away from the Internet, throw on some workout clothes and get to it.

That kind of works. The problem is, my kids are there. In my face. Constantly. They ask questions, want to show me things, want to workout with me, try to play with things on the treadmill and generally make me crazy. Yes, I can get the physical part of the workout done. But the mental release I need? Not so much. I need more than just the workout - I need some space.

The other problem is that I do a lot better with someone telling me what to do. If I know I have a class to get to, I'll go. I'll be on time, I'll workout really hard and I'll love it. Working out on my own is a lot harder. I know how, I have done it plenty in the past, and I can make it work if I have to. But I miss the class setting, particuarly with someone else telling me what to do.

Bottom line, I need to get back into the mentality of scheduling things around my workout time. I used to approach my day that way. If things interfered with my workout time, they had to go. I didn't join my church's mom's group because it met at 10:00 on Mondays. Workout time. We didn't go to morning storytime at the library very often because it was at 9:30. Workout time. Now, I schedule everything based on our homeschool and my workout time has gone by the wayside. For my physical and mental health, I need to find a way to get that time back in a way that is productive, not only for my body, but for my sanity.

Like I told a friend, I need to get back to going to the gym and having someone kick my ass for an hour. It makes me a better mom.

Insanity. Or, I am not a morning person.

You know that old saying about the definition of insanity? I don't know who really said it, but "doing the same thing repeatedly expecting a different result," - yeah, it does sound a wee bit nutty, yes?

I have been hitting my head against the wall since September, trying to turn myself into a motivated and energetic morning person. Since I decided to homeschool, I've had to rethink a lot of things. Most things have fallen into place and we've gotten into a great routine. The missing piece of that puzzle, however, is fitness. I have not worked out consistently since last summer and it is getting ridiculous.

What does this have to do with mornings (and my disdain for them)? I figured the only time I would be able to get in a workout would be early in the morning, before everyone else is up. I don't like getting up early, but I decided I would make it work somehow. What choice do I have? I can't get to the gym after breakfast - I'm no longer dropping kids off at school, and school time is, in fact, right when I used to get my workouts in. A worthy sacrifice, I love homeschooling. However, said workouts have to occur sometime. Mid-morning no longer works, then the kids need lunch, then there isn't much time between lunch and naptime, and after naptime, well it's late afternoon by then. The childcare at my gym isn't open all day, and the YMCA, where I used to workout, doesn't have childcare for kids over 6 (and I have a 7 year old). Evenings are full with dinner, some family time, bed for the kids, then I work for at least an hour. Squeeze in some time with the hubs, and that's a day folks. No skittering off to the gym for me.

The thing is, I have to workout. It isn't optional for me. It isn't just about physical fitness. Yeah, I want to be healthy and looking good would be nice too. But I simply feel so much better when I'm in shape. I'm calmer, more energetic, and simply a lot happier. I don't have big energy slumps in the afternoon, little aches and pains that trouble me disappear, my hormones are more balanced... the list goes on. So after six months of workouts that have been intermittent at best, I'm feeling the effects. And it isn't pretty.

The insanity part? I decided I had to workout in the mornings and I've been trying. Really, I have. But I am not wired to get up early. I wish I were! I wish I was one of those people who could jump out of bed at the first beep of the alarm, ready to lace up my running shoes and hit the treadmill. That just isn't me. I'm not a stay-up-all-night kind of gal, but if I could go to bed sometime between 11 and midnight and sleep until 8-ish, that would seem like a very civilized schedule to me. It isn't just about the number of hours I sleep either. I could sleep for 10 hours, but if those 10 hours end at 6:00 am, I will still have one heck of a time rolling out of bed. So here I am, with six months of trying to get up at 6:00 to go to the gym, and successfully doing so less than half the time - if that. Gee, why are all my jeans so tight?

I'm going to stop the insanity. I'm not going to workout in the mornings. It stresses me out because each night, I watch the clock tick past 10, and I know the later I stay up, the less likely it is I'll get up when my alarm goes off. I go to bed feeling anxious because I know I'm not going to get up, and I spend the next day feeling guilty because I didn't.

I'm giving up on going to the gym for a while. I've been working out at home for the most part anyway, so I may as well accept that home workouts are my thing for a while, embrace it, and plan a routine for myself that I stand some chance of sticking with. I'll carve out some time to workout after I put my daughter down for a nap. It isn't always easy to muster the motivation in the afternoon, and it will (gasp!) cut down on my Internet time. But something's gotta give. I need to embrace who I am, how I'm wired, and work with it, instead of trying to fight it - and losing. I'm not getting anywhere with that.

So here's to new routines and, hopefully, jeans that start to fit right again.

The perplexities of my four year old enigma

My four year old son, Grayson, is going through a rough time. I wish I could pinpoint why, and exactly when it began, but perhaps it is simply the combination of a number of factors.

He's naturally extra sensitive to smells and sometimes to certain clothing. A few months ago, Daddy dressed him in a button down shirt for church and inexplicably buttoned it all the way to the collar. This resulted in a dramatic meltdown and it triggered a distaste for wearing shirts of any kind. Since then, he almost always takes his shirt off when we are at home (and other places when he can get away with it). When he does have to wear a shirt, he often stuffs his hand in the collar to pull the shirt away from his neck.

He also has the nose of a bloodhound and will complain of smelling things when no one else can. Until the last week and a half or so, these things were just little quirks about him. We didn't worry too much about the shirt thing, figuring he'd outgrow it. And the smell thing didn't seem to be a huge problem. He didn't like public bathrooms, for instance, but he'd use one if necessary, so it wasn't impeding his life, or ours, in any way.

Until a week and a half ago.

It was a Sunday and I made the mistake of putting him in a button down shirt. I kept the top two buttons open, so it actually was farther away from his neck than any other shirt he has. But he could not deal with the shirt. It escalated to a huge tantrum and he acted like he was going to throw up  (even long after we'd taken the shirt off him). He complained of smelling bad things and basically had an all-out meltdown. I wound up leaving him home with Daddy (who was staying home anyway) because I couldn't get him calmed down and we were late already.

Since then, he has had a number of similar incidents - getting very upset, saying he smells something bad, screaming, crying and gagging hard. It has gotten to the point where he doesn't want to leave the house because he is afraid he will smell something bad and feel sick. He says everything smells like poop. It is really hard to get him to get dressed and go when we have to go somewhere - it takes a lot of coaxing and prodding. It is become a big problem for the whole family.

I took him to the doctor, at the suggestion of his preschool teacher (he had a meltdown last Friday at school), just to rule out any physical causes. We didn't find anything. Ears, throat, nose, blood count, etc. - all normal. He hasn't been sick all winter, with the exception of a brief "almost cold" last week - he had a stuffy nose for about half a day but it never turned into anything serious.

Our doctor, whom I love as much for his mellow approach as the fact that he has 6 kids of his own and often approaches a problem with a, "When so and so (names one of his kids) did that, we....", said it was likely that something else was putting stress on his system and his natural sensitivities were being blown out of proportion. He may have been fighting a mild virus or not getting enough sleep and that was enough to push him over the edge - and now smells and shirts are the culprit for any discomfort he feels.

I think something deeper is happening, although I think my boys' after-bedtime reading sessions may be going on later than I thought. Grayson is largely an enigma to me. His personality is a lot like my husband's, which you would think would make him easy to understand. But he's not. He is this complicated little fella with so much going on inside, yet the exterior is usually one of a happy, easygoing little guy. He's not the best at communicating his feelings (even though his language is very good) and it is really hard to understand what is going on inside that little head of his. My older son, by contrast, will get in your face and literally demand attention when he is upset or not feeling right. Grayson will retreat into himself and make it nearly impossible to tell what is bothering him - or even that anything is bothering him at all.

A few things spring to mind, and I'm wondering if we're at the crux of a number of issues that have been building up inside him for a long time.

My husband started a new job in January with a very different schedule that has him away from home late two or three days a week, but working from home the other days.

He's rounding the bend in his preschool year and heading for kindergarten in the fall. He knows he'll be homeschooled, but he's complained that he wants to go to "real school" like David did. He's also probably hearing things about going to kindergarten at his preschool, and not sure where he fits in to all that.

While he accels in some areas (like reading), his maturity level isn't necessarily catching up. His preschool teacher has mentioned some behaviors that she feels might indicate he's not quite ready to move on to kindergarten. He's aware of that and it might be contributing to feelings of confusion. We will be homeschooling, so truthfully I'm not the least bit worried about it, since we can work on good habits simultaneously with academics. But I'm not sure how he feels about all of it.

His brother gets a lot of attention and one-on-one time with me, every morning, as we do school. I have made some attempts to get him interested in doing something alongside us, but he always refuses. So I've gotten in the habit of just letting him be. But as I think on it, I need to seek out ways to give him more attention and get him involved somehow, because he won't seek it from me, even when he needs it. He tends to retreat from everyone, rather than going after the attention he needs.

This was all feeling really overwhelming and I was so unsure of what to do and how to handle it all. I've watched some good friends navigate some very treacherous waters with their children as they dealt with perplexing behaviors, some leading to actual diagnoses being made. My kids have always been healthy and typical, with no real concerns for their development or behavior. Suddenly, I've been looking at my poor little boy, and wondering to myself, "What on earth is wrong with you?!?"

Today I feel a bit more peaceful, and although I don't really know exactly what I'm doing, I do have one major theme that will guide how I approach this time with my fella - I'm going to love the crap out of him. He's a middle child, he's not an attention seeker (and he has an older brother who IS an attention seeker and a 2 year old sister who takes a lot of my attention), and even though I don't always know the best way to love him so he really knows it, I'm going to try. I read an old thread on a message board and someone said something about "filling up our children's emotional bank." That's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to love on him as much as I can, making sure he knows that no matter what, I love him. I'm going to hug him, kiss him when he'll let me (which isn't often), talk to him, ask him questions, read books of his choosing, sit by him and let him warm his feet under my legs. I'm going to stop what I'm doing during school time and do an activity just with him. I'm going to make eye contact and smile at him and tell him how much fun I'm having with him. I'm going to ask him questions and make him laugh and squeeze his hands and feet.

I'm going to love him through this because damnit, I don't know what else to do.

When Daddy takes over

Ok, my husband is a great father. Awesome. The best.

And..

Sometimes, I just have to shake my head.

We have it worked out that on days he works from home, he "takes over" with the kids after dinner so I can work. Tonight is really the first night we've done it this way and I just... don't... know... :)

He put on a movie. Ok, fine. I just hope that doesn't become the default. They don't need to watch that much TV, but I know how easy it is to fall into the trap of thinking, "If they aren't watching something, I have to watch them... and I'm tired..." I know he's worn out. He's been working really hard and we're all adjusting to his new schedule. But seriously, I can't have them watching a movie every time it's Daddy Night. I'll be honest, part of my criticism of it is that if he always watches movies or TV with them, I will feel like I have to keep the TV off the rest of the day so they aren't watching too much TV (for my liking). I want their TV time to be on my watch, so I can let them watch cartoons while I take a break or get things done - when I need them distracted!

Plus, the TV thing doesn't work well with Ella. She's two. She does two-year-old things. Putting on a movie means she'll watch a bit, then get up and start playing/making messes/getting into things - or, banging on my bedroom door shouting, "Mama! Awe you in dere!" over and over.

When the movie was over, I heard him shout, "Who wants to go get ice cream!" Ah, such a Daddy thing to do. I don't know about the daddies at your houses, but in our house, Daddy is often known as Treat Daddy. Seriously, my boys have called him that. He LOVES to give them treats. It's simultaneously very sweet, and extraordinarily exasperating. A) they don't need ANOTHER treat (I already heard him bribe Ella with chocolate kisses to come downstairs and stop beating on my door) and B) it's 7:24, which means they SHOULD be upstairs cleaning up their toys and getting ready for bed.

Sigh.

It's a perennial problem for moms, isn't it? We want Daddy to be an invovled and active parent. But it's hard to give him the room to do so, knowing he's going to do things his way and that (often) isn't how we'd be doing things.

He really is great though. But ice cream? Now? Oh heavens...

Thinking about the new year

Here we are, at the time of year when resolutions are made, a fresh start is begun and people are often thinking about how to make themselves better.

I usually make a few resolutions. I know people that don't out of principal, because it's something "everyone" does and "no one" ever follows through, so why bother. And I know people that journal or blog or post on Facebook all their resolutions in order to be accountable, then manage to track their progress.. at least for a while.

I fall somewhere in the middle. I usually have a resolution or three. Sometimes I remember them in February, sometimes not. Except during times when I was pregnant or breastfeeding, I usually resolve to lose weight or get in better shape. Last year my resolution was that this year I would not resolve to lose weight (meaning, of course, that I'd have lost it already). So this year I will not be making a new year's resolution to lose weight - even though some of the weight seems to have found me again. ;)

My one resolution, if I choose to call it that (depending on whether I'm currently siding with the pro-resolution types or the anti), is to make daily toy pick up a habit. I have been severely lax in teaching my children to pick up after themselves and to take care of their things. Two problems are resulting from said parenting failure. 1) My kids aren't taking responsibility for their own things and 2) I am going insane with the tasks of trying to keep this house in a reasonable state of tidiness.

Up until now, I have been bad about toy pickup because with small children, it really means a lot more work for me. I know there are probably magical parents out there with magical toddlers who learn to pick up their toys and do so happily alongside their mommies as she sings a fun clean up song. I am not that mommy. Clean up in my house goes something like,

"Ok everyone, time to clean up!" (pointing to each child in turn) "You can start with the stuffed animals. Yes, put them in the bucket. No, it doesn't matter which color. No, its ok if David's toys go in the red bucket, they just need to be in the buckets. And you, start with the Legos.... Yes, all of them. Ok, at least put them on the lego table in your room, we can sort them later. And I know the pile is already huge, so put them in the bins. Wait! Ella! Don't dump out the stuffed animals baby, we're cleaning up! Here sweetheart, can you put the animals back in? That's right! No, not out again honey. We're cleaning up. Grayson, you're supposed to be picking things up, not building a spaceship. Yes David, I know you're the only one cleaning up toys, but you're the oldest so you can handle it. Ella! Oh sweet girl, really, just go find Daddy and get your teeth brushed. I know you want to help, but dumping the puzzles out is not helping Mommy right now..." and so forth.

Once I've started the process, we see it through, but it tends to take a while and then they're late getting to bed and it's just... tiring. So I wind up leaving most of the mess until it really starts to get to me (or we have guests coming) and then I wind up doing most of the work myself because it's just easier.

The "its just easier" cop out is not usually a great long term strategy in parenting.

So I'm going to build clean up time into our nightly routine. Seems simple enough, the kicker is the follow through. I need to get everyone upstairs earlier than we do now so we have time to pick up. But imagine, things cleaned up at the end of the day. No legos to step on in the morning when I stumble out of my room. No piles of things to walk around. No dress up clothes scattered in the hallway. Things roughly in their places. Ahhh, the peace of a bit of tidiness.

It's something I need to work on for myself as much as them. I keep hearing these words echoing in my mind, although I can't remember where I read them, "Don't do anything that your children can do for themselves." That's an approach that I can really embrace. Not only do I want to teach them responsibility, I want the extra help! I haven't been great about it up until now, but hey, what's a new year for if not to try to improve :).

Keeping it simple. and real.

So many of my friends are caught up in the just-before-Christmas frenzy. Shopping, wrapping, baking... busy, busy, busy. I'm prone to being overwhelmed with the here and now of living all too often during the rest of the year. I knew this year that if I was going to have a calm and peaceful Advent and Christmas, I was going to have to keep it simple. And real.

Here is my recipe this year for a stress-free holiday. And no, it does not involve finishing all my shopping and wrapping before December 1st.

My list of things I don't do is longer than my list of things I do
I didn't read every Tomie dePaola Christmas book and do themed crafts and baking to go along with them. We didn't make handmade Christmas gifts to give to all our relatives. We didn't bake endless batches of cookies to put on cute little paper plates and pass out to all our neighbors and friends. I didn't have Advent themed projects every day or tons of Christmas crafts. I didn't even send out Christmas cards.

We prioritized what was important and ditched the rest
We watched our favorite Christmas movies with the kids. We'll bake Santa cookies on Friday. I did most of my shopping online. We made some salt dough ornaments because I was in the mood. We've read lots of Christmas stories. I'll wrap the rest of the presents this week, a little at a time. That's about it.

I took my favorite ideas that we didn't do, and filed them away for another year
With no guilt, I might add. The Internet is amazing and I have found about a gazillion really great ideas for projects, homeschool, books, etc. And I can't do even half of them. I just don't have time. So rather than killing myself trying to squeeze in everything, I'm filing ideas away (and this is why I love pinterest) for another year.

If it stresses me out, I won't do it
My house will not be spotless when we have friends and family over for Christmas brunch. I already mentioned, I didn't do Christmas cards. I don't wrap presents all fancy. I'm lucky just to remember everyone that we planned to buy for. I have enough going on that adding additional things simply isn't worth it.

The purpose of Advent is to prepare our hearts for Jesus. In celebrating his birth, we celebrate not only the fact that He came into the world as King and Sacrifice - we celebrate that He will return for us. And whether He calls us one by one and we meet Him when it is our time, or someday comes for us all at once, this time of year should be peaceful, serene and joyful. So I refuse to do more than I need to, more than makes my family happy. Yes, we believe in Santa and we hang stockings and play all types of Christmas music and we'll open too many presents and eat too much pie. But in the days leading up to the feast of feasts, I am making a conscious effort to keep my heart in the right place. Enjoy my family, pick activities that are fun and not stressful, and leave the rest for later.

Simple. Real.

Happy birthday to my biggest baby

My oldest child turned 7 yesterday.

I remember so well the day he was born - seeing this little person who I already knew so well. We were instantly in love with him, in a way that I had never realized was possible. We couldn't stop looking at him - his face, his little fingers and toes. Delicious!

Now he is seven. He is confident and a little bossy, but so sensitive to his own feelings as well as the feelings of others. He wants to be good and please everyone and hates getting in trouble. He can seem so fragile one moment and unbreakable the next. He's wicked smart, with such a literal and logical mind. He has declared he will be a scientist when he grows up since he was about three, and it wouldn't surprise me a bit if he does. He has such a passion for learning and discovery and wants to know, down to the tiniest detail, how everything works. He asks at least 1,852 questions a day and his most spoken word, even at this age, is probably "why?"

He's a sweet and kind big brother, most of the time. He's very social and does not like being alone, or feeling like he's missing something. He and his brother are inseparable and he dotes on his sister. He's the most ticklish person I know. He's fun and funny and smart and wonderful.

I have no idea how I got so lucky as to be blessed with such a great kid. I am endlessly thankful to God for trusting me with his little soul.

Happy birthday to my little man.

Does it really have to be that way?

This photo has been making the rounds on Facebook lately:

I'll be honest - I didn't find it all that funny.

I don't fault the person who created it, nor the people who posted and reposted it. But instead of making me giggle, it made me think - does it really have to be that way? Because one very big reason that people will laugh at a picture like that, is because it rings true. They see something of themselves, or their families, in it. Perhaps not quite so extreme, but I'm sure there are millions of families out there (especially those with teens) that feel as if they see the top of their kids heads more often than their faces, as they lean forward, intent on texting their friends or reading the latest must-read tweets or Facebook updates.

Does it really have to be that way?

I look around at so many things that most people in our culture consider to be "the norm." Maybe not ideal, maybe not even desirable, but many don't question them because it seems to be "the way it is." People don't sit down and eat together very often. Kids have a zillion different clubs, sports, and activities that turn parents into taxis. Everyone has a phone on them every second of the day so they don't miss out on one single thing that happens to their friends... ever. They are constantly connected, constantly distracted. People used to talk about how much TV their family watched with a slight tinge of guilt or worry if it might be too much. Now things are far more complicated. We bring our TVs with us, everywhere we go, and they aren't just TVs anymore. They are little computers and communication devices, making disconnection from the world of peers, pressure and drama nearly impossible. Home is no longer the safe haven for those having a rough day. The complexities of peer interactions follow them everywhere they go and connection with the family seems to be fading away into obscurity.

Does it really have to be that way?

Perhaps I am naive because my kids are still young enough to believe their parents are the greatest people in the world, followed very closely by their siblings, and probably tied with various members of their extended family. It is easy for me to look into our future and think, "We'll be different. We won't let those things rule our lives the way other people do. We'll do it right."

But will we? Am I kidding myself?

The truth is, I don't really know. I'd like to think that we are going to sidestep some of those issues of family disconnectedness because my husband and I both place a high value on family connection. I'd like to think we will always make time for dinners together and keep outside commitments in their place as being secondary to the family. I'd like to think we'll keep our kids free from the slavery of electronics until we feel they are old enough for the responsibility, and then create boundaries to make sure those things don't dominate their lives. I'd like to think our kids won't be so obsessed with peer relationships and fitting in because we're doing things a little bit differently.

I suppose I won't know the answers to those questions until we cross those bridges, but I'll admit, I'm optimistic. If I'm honest, I do believe it is possible to raise a family that doesn't fall victim to all the pitfalls of our popular culture. Not that we will be perfect and not face common problems and challenges along the way. But we've gotten pretty adept at questioning the norm the last few years, so why stop now? Why assume that my kids will be sullen, argumentative, peer-obsessed creatures in 10 years. Why not assume that things can be different - that for us, it doesn't have to be that way, if we make the right choices along the way.

Finding joy despite the hormones

Today is just one of those days - and not for any good reason. Or at least, not for any good external reason.

Yes, my little ones were particularly destructive creative this morning while I did school with my oldest. There are legos and bionicles quite literally covering our playroom/schoolroom floor. My two-year-old daughter ate a steady stream of fruit leather and managed to touch at least 98% of everything we own with her sticky hands. When it was time to get dressed, no one wanted to. When it was time to eat breakfast, no one wanted anything we have. When it was time to go to the library, no one wanted to go. When it was time to leave the library, everyone wanted to stay.

But all of that is normal, day-to-day stuff. And yet today, I find myself feeling like just taking one more step, cleaning up one more mess, getting out one more snack... is going to make me snap.

Why? Hormones. Ah, the joys of being a woman.

Yes folks, PMS rears it's ugly head. I'm still not really used to the ups and downs of my cycle and each month it does not fail to surprise me that I spend a day or two feeling.. out of sorts. I spent most of my twenties either on birth control pills (gasp! I know, I know), or trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant (unsuccessful because I have a hormone disorder called PCOS). I spent years having either unnatural, medication induced cycles, or not having regular cycles because of my PCOS. Then I spent a number of years (finally) having and nursing babies. But my daughter turned two in August, and she stopped nursing when she was about 15 or 16 months old. Thanks to a lot of research and changes in my diet (as well as regular exercise), I've been in the ranks of "regulars" to the (often dreaded) monthly visit for a while now. But somehow, I'm not quite used to it.

It occurred to me early on today why I was not feeling like my usual, (mostly) cheerful self. And yet, simply knowing that I'm in the midst of a hormone crash doesn't seem to override its effects. So what is a busy mom to do?

Well, since I don't have any wine or good chocolate in the house, I suppose I will just have to take the advice of one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis. No, he didn't exactly have advice for PMS'ing mothers, but he did say something to the effect of (and I'm grossly paraphrasing here), "Fake it till you make it." He wasn't exactly talking about being happy when you want to curl up in a ball with a hot water bottle and a glass of wine. But his advice to those seeking to become righteous (ask, what would a righteous man do, and then act accordingly, and soon you will find you are) seems to apply here. Act like a happy mom, do the things a happy mom would do, and pretty soon, I may just be that happy mom.

I'm not talking, plaster a fake smile on my face and white knuckle it through my day. What I need to do is catch myself in those moments when I feel like blowing up at my kids, or locking myself in my room, and think, "What would a happy mom do?" or at least, "What would I do if I didn't feel like mud?" Then do that. Smile at my children. Take a deep breath when they ask me, again, for another snack when I'm in the midst of doing something else. Hug them when I'm feeling the urge to send them outside and lock the back door (not that I would actually do that, in case that isn't obvious).

And lean on the grace of God. I'm sadly imperfect and flawed through and through. But with His help, I can be a good mother today, even though I don't particularly feel like it.

Fake it till I make it. Breathe. Smile. Enjoy today anyway.

They turned off the TV... by themselves?

Our normal daily routine is hinged around lunch and naptime. My daughter needs a nap in the afternoon, and I need a break - so my boys are used to this being their TV time. I will freely admit that I have shamefully abused this in the past, letting them watch far too much TV because the little one was still asleep and I was doing something really important messing around on the internet. I have made a concerted effort to keep their TV time more limited, encouraging them to find something else to do (quietly if upstairs). The vast majority of the time, this works out fine. They play or find something else to do, I still get a few things done (because getting up to tell them to turn the TV off has the added benefit of prying my butt from this chair and my eyes from the screen).

I don't know what's up lately, but my boys have been a lot less interested in TV than they once were. Just a few months ago, if I had let them, they probably could have watched TV all afternoon until it was time to cook dinner. And then they'd ask to watch "just one more episode of Spiderman!" (we only have Netflix). Over the last several weeks, they've done two extraordinarily shocking things, and not just once, but on a regular basis.

1. They have turned off the TV with no prompting from me after just one cartoon.

2. They have not asked to watch TV at all and simply found something else to do.

Insert jaw-dropping face here.

Today they are playing outside on the trampoline, even though it's cloudy and cold. Awesome! They've also been furiously making art projects together - we've had a lot of coloring, cutting and pasting going on in this house lately. Aside from the fact that I'm running out of paper and glue, it's been awesome.

I wish I could say I did something magnificent to induce this change, but I really haven't. I do think, however, that homeschooling has had something to do with it. The way we live our life has changed and as we all adjust, the projects and reading and other homeschool-ish things are spilling over into their free time. It isn't as if they're off pursuing things that directly relate to what we did in school, but their free time is beginning to have a different feel to it. They want to draw and do art projects constantly. They want to look up random facts on the internet about bugs and animals. They want to look at their library books and fill up their booklists (of course, they do get a prize for that, but still).

Now that I think about it, perhaps some of this shift is because of me. I'm far more willing to indulge in the art projects and random Googling. Before I might have put them off with a "maybe later," when asked if they could get out more paper or try glitter, or find out the wingspan of a bald eagle. But now I almost always say yes.

Of course, now that I've written this, they will probably swing back to wanting to watch TV all afternoon and won't voluntarily turn it off ever again ;).

Seriously though, it does ease that bit of mommy-guilt I harbor over letting them watch TV, especially because I know my motive for allowing it is rather selfish in nature. Not that I think watching TV is terrible, but I do believe in moderation and I'm not always great about moderating them enough.

Plus, I love their artwork! I have no idea what to do with all of it, but they are both having so much fun being creative, it makes my mommy heart glad.