What will help them succeed?

*Think what will help them have success? How can I help Bridge be successful in doing his chores around the house? How can I help Kyanne be successful in today's math lesson. How can I help Fin be successful in staying in her bed after the lights go out?

When I think like this, I'm suddenly on their side, wanting them to do great. My view of them changes from, kids who don't care about obeying their mom, don't care about following directions, to kids who want to do what their asked and just don't quite know how. Suddenly I have compassion and I want to be in their corner, cheering them on, even if they only make it half way the first few times.

This is so different than the usual me, who asks Bridge to put away the shoes by the front door 3 times and wants to strangle him by time 4 but instead, I feel all controlled and good parent like when I give him a consequence instead, but is that really what will help him succeed? Sometimes yes, but other times no.

As I continue to think about our day, I find that Bridgey really does want to please me, he shows me this all throughout the day as he asks what he can do to help me, he just has trouble following through.

His little mind is amazing and so curious. I've heard him refered to as a blur, and I'd add quickly distracted as a back up. He's so interested in everything around him, it's hard to follow through on something less interesting like putting away shoes. But, the more I help him be successful the more I find he it makes him feel good and he tries to be successful all on his own.

"Where do babies come from?"

While shopping for the baby yesterday.

Bridgey: "Mom, how did Spot get in your tummy?"

Mom: "Heavenly Father." (we've been over this.)

Bridgey: "Yeah, and you have to be an adult and get married, but how does the baby get there?" (it's like he knows I'm keeping something from him)

Mom: "Well, the Mommy and Daddy ask Heavenly Father for a baby, and then Heavenly Father sends a baby to the mommy's tummy."

Bridge: "Oh, ok."

Mom: "Phew." (cue: laughter from surrounding shoppers)

Man, he's been interested in how this baby stuff works lately. How the baby comes out, and how he got there. I'm doing my best to satisfy his 4 year old curiosity, and maintain his innocence. Because when I asked these questions as a 6 year old I remember getting more than I bargained for. I've been grossed out ever since.

The Monster Mommy again! (sigh)

Tonight the Mommy Monster reared her wrinkly hagard face and scared the kids not to mention the cute dad who really hadn't done a thing wrong. As I threw the book of stories about Jesus at Jess and stomped up stairs to feed the baby like a martyr there was a little part of me asking "How old are you?" Toddler? Preschooler at best. I did eventually apologize for being so weird, and tonight as I opened up Marjorie Hinckley's book called "Glimpses" I turned to this:

"There is something about spirituality that is central to the life of a woman .

I do not mean the kind of spirituality that only takes you to church on Sunday. Sitting in church will not necessarily make you into a Christian anymore than sitting in a garage will make you into a car. I am talking about the kind of spirituality that makes you behave like a child of God.

I am talking about the kind of spirituality that makes you loving an grateful, and forgiving, and patient, and gentle, and longsuffering iwth that roommate who drops her clothes on the closet floor and who never, no never, does her share of the cooking and cleaning and who beat you to the boyfriend.

I am talking about the kind of spirituality that compels you to get in touch with your Heavenly Father every single day of your life."

She was talking to a younger group of women, but the principle is the same. I behaved badly tonight and just after I had there was a moment where I was back in control and knew I was sorely in the wrong, but I still choose to stomp up those last few stairs, instead of modeling good behavior for our kids and choosing their feelings over my own.

We have a new rule in our family. I can't remember if I've already talked about this or not. Anyhow, it's called something really fancy: "RULE #1" and it's to be kind and respectful to everyone in our family. It's been great for me, for when I lose my temper, I stop, tell the kids I broke our family rule, apologize and start again in a more respectful way.

Truth be told I started doing this a few weeks ago, and it really was having a good influence on me and the kids (Jess is already good at being patient and kind) but, this week I forgot all about it. So, I vow to start again this week, I love what Sister Hinckley said about being "longsuffering, gentle, and patient" even when people's actions don't necessarily merit it. I'm excited to work on this during this new week. When Mommy's happy it brings a happy spirit in the home, I know this. So, get away Mommy Monster, you've been banished!

Insults and Accusations

My husbands partner and one of our dearest friends, John, recently commented on what a "sanguine couple" Jess and I are. That sounded like a compliment until I heard he used his observations of our chronically messy home to backup his theory.

As I contemplated this I realized deep down I view myself as a as a cleaning perfectionist like my mother, but in actuality Johns right, I've only inherited half of my mother's over zealous cleaning trait: the mental half.

I practically obsess about a tidy house. I nag and complain with the best of wives, but that's about where it ends. I almost feel liberated as I write this next line:

I am a terrible house keeper, and not that fabulous of a homemaker in general. While I probably own a more extensive collection of organizational/cleaning books than the public library, my laundry continues to threaten take over and the pizza shop knows me by name. But, I think I can be okay with, I think.

Now I have theories. I think somewhere deep in my subconscious I have some morphed unrealistic ideal of a homemaker and "good" mother. This an ideal that matches up with my core beliefs or values and yet it seems to influences my very self concept. Leaving me with guilt and grouchy feelings that often cause everyone else grief as well.

I met with a physiologist recently who asked me to go home and reevaluate my ideals and goals and see if they match up with what I really believe to be truth. Everyone should do this every now and then, to make sure they're heading on the path they mean to be on.

I won't give up on trying to be a better homemaker for my sweet family who needs clean clothes and nutritious meals, but instead recognize where these things fall on my priority list. I've been trying to remember my morning prayers and ask what would be most important for me to spend my efforts doing that day.

Time and time again I feel the most important things, are things that will encourage feelings of love, and joy for our family. This sometimes includes cleaning and errands but even then my focus is on keeping the Spirit, and having joyful moments with the kids. I realize when my goals of a well run home are first on my priority list, everything seems get out of sorts. It's not that those activities are a problem, but rather my goals. I can do those activites with the goal of helping my family feel my love, and hopefully through this feel and recognize Heavenly Father's love for them as well and the way I feel at the end of a day is drastically different than how I feel when my goal is a show ready home. Especially because that's really not possible with these little rascals at my heels all day There's a reason there are not children in those show homes! :)

I love writing out my thoughts, it helps me put things into even better perspective. Writing things down also helps me remember but, nothing helps me remember to put this lesson into action as asking the Lord what he would have me do with my day each morning, if only I could remember to do that everyday! :) Maybe I need a prayer rock at the foot of my bed, so I stub my toe.

Strategy: Fail your way to Perfection

The thought often crosses my mind: Who's big idea was it too let me be in charge of these precious little ones, anyhow? But, as I've stepped back and really ponder it, I realize just how perfect this plan is (at least in the long run).

We get to try our best, succeed and fail -sometimes all in one breath, and be humbled time and time again. (ie. KY-ANNE! Leave Bridge Alone for the 300th time!" Just then, I realize she's just saved him from some major catastophy. [Humbled], "I sorry Honey, I thought. . .")

In the same token, our kids develop divine qualities such as: compassion, patience, and forgiveness as they endure the inadequacies of their very human parents.

And, together we all become more like our Father in Heaven who is perfect and Happy and we get to be Happy too!-At least this is the pep talk I give myself at the end of the day. I'm surprised at just how I want to rip my hair out strand by strand in hopes of forgetting about the toothpaste all over "my baby", not my Finley-baby, -worse, my MacBook-baby, or how about the water spilling over the bathroom sink onto the floor all in the name of an unauthorized tea party, the purple marker all over the slide on Kys bed, the dozen half eaten apples that decorated the floor when I woke, or the shampoo poured in diliberate little puddles around my bed (this all happened: yesterday. Here's an excerpt from one of my favorite talks, you can click the link below to read the whole talk.

"I was recently at a park where I met a group of women. They were bright and had obtained advanced degrees from respected universities. Now they were devoting their considerable gifts to planning dinner that evening and sharing housekeeping ideas. They were teaching two-year-olds to be kind to one another. They were soothing babies, kissing bruised knees, and wiping tears.

I asked one of those mothers how it came about that she could transfer her talents so cheerfully into the role of motherhood. She replied, “I know who I am, and I know what I am supposed to do. The rest just follows.” That young mother will build faith and character in the next generation one family prayer at a time, one scripture study session, one book read aloud, one song, one family meal after another. She is involved in a great work. She knows that “children are an heritage of the Lord” and “happy is the [woman] that hath [a] quiver full of them” (Ps. 127:3, 5). She knows that the influence of righteous, conscientious, persistent, daily mothering is far more lasting, far more powerful, far more influential than any earthly position or institution invented by man."

Julie B. Beck, “A ‘Mother Heart’,” Ensign, May 2004, 75

A miniature reflection...

Who needs a mirror when you have 3 little kids around to reflect the real you, for better and for worse.

Today I overheard Drill Srgt. Ky, laying down the law, complete with -the Mommy Stink Eye (which looks so much like her Nana's, it's scary).

Ky: "Uh-oh Bridgey. UH-OH (envision: evil eye, hands on hips). I'm the Mommy and you need to obey. Do you understand? Bridgey..."

While not yet fluent in English I think he got the idea, because he replied, in standard Bridgey Protocol: "NO!" and a simultaneous smack to the head. Sighing to myself, I again vow to be the picture of patience with a smile and a plate of cookies for good measure, that a "good" mother should be.

Sometimes as I am curtly correcting a kid I have this flash of insight: These are Heavenly Fathers babies too. How would I feel if someone spoke that way to my kid and dragged them by their hair (okay that's a bit excessive but I have thrown Ky over my shoulder while she was kicking and whaling loud enough to wake the dead, winning the sympathy of every person in the Lethbridge mall.)

Thinking of my kids as belonging to someone else helps me be more patient. And, see them as little people exploring their world, boundaries, and mother's self restraint.

Another of my less desirable traits Ky has taken up is: grrrr....ing. She's practically as good at it as I am... practically. Some of Ky's more common reason to grrr...

• not getting the 'square bowl' for breakfast.
• pants
• shirts without puff sleeves
• denying her 50 requests to 'cut and dye her hair black like Snow White's"
• letting Bridgey be the "Guest" and by that I mean letting him pick which color cup he wants at lunch.
• reminding her who's the Mommy
• washing her blanket
• lunch items without cheese
• non heel-shoes
• non bow-shoes
• pony tails as opposed to "Ballet Buns"
• chastisement for wearing dresses off the shoulder.

The truth is, in retrospect (definitely not in the moment) I love these quirky things about my little feisty princess, who's become a fabulous Copy Cat (speaking of which she learning how to spell C-A-T today at school).

She seems to notice and then copy everything I do, right down to the day I wore a shirt with a bit of a plungy neck line. I was just wearing it under a sweat shirt but the next thing I knew, there was Ky tugging at her modest shirt in attempts to be like mom. Or how about the time she wore a shoe lace around her bosom for days because she wanted a bra like Mommy's.

In the last few months I've come to realize just how important my example is. How close they watch and quickly they absorb.

A perfect moment...

A snapshot, a glimpse into this moment that I love:

Fin stops nursing to look up and smile coyly. She pokes at my mouth with her chubby little fingers until I expectantly nibble them and then giggles delightfully.

Bridge is riding his mini snow board atop our tired couch in nothing but his Skippies, while measuring the air with my retractable sewing tape, and yelling "duh....duh-na...na----".

Ky is twirling like a drunken sailor and tripping over her new snow white dress that is 6 sizes too big. Singing so loud the neighbors are wishing their house wasn't in arms reach of ours.

The dishwasher is running in the background (a great accomplishment this early in the morning) and the house while simi tidy, still looks like a preschool/fabric store.

And, life feels perfect even if just for a moment.

(And, the moment has passed, with the pain from the Bridgey monster taking a bite out of my hair, literally.)

Lesson Learned #1

Today in the elevator at the mall, another mother asked me how I would describe having 3 children, of course I wanted to say, "Sunshine everyday". But, this was just after Kyanne tried to redecorate Siren's and Bridgey protested to join in so loudly that more than a few customers gave me the "disapproving" eye with a simultaneous head shake, so for that moment I felt inclined to speak the truth. . . "Hard", I said. To which I was surprised that she acted surprised at my response and said in this almost sing song voice, "Really? My friends with three and four kids say, three was a breeze."

Feeling close to deaf and happily numb by this time I politely told her, "their lying".
Carrie has a wall on her blog called, "Lesson Learned". Here's mine:

Lesson Learned #1:
Children belong in zoo's, not malls.

Worry. . . a maternal art form.

Sometimes I think this blog should be titled something like: Circus Survivor or Complaints with a Smile. Jess says I should win some sort of award for how effortlessly I can crinkle my forehead and invent things to worry about. I don't mean to be such a big whiner and yet it comes so naturally.

But, since we're on the subject, let me just say: Motherhood can be so trying. I know some would glorify it with terms like refining or progressive, but really today it was just teeth grittingly hard. Some of you really know what I'm talking about, and some will, come another child or two.
I guess, I'm surprised at just how difficult it is to be the patient sweet mother I imagine in my head. After all, this is all I've ever wanted. As a child I dreamed of dollies that came with adoption papers, and picked "House" over every other game all through grade school.

And, while I find it more challenging than I expected, it's so much more wonderful than I ever imagined. I just wish I had a little book with a few answers. I don't even need them all, but a few, a glimpse of light indicating movement in the right direction would be so motivating. And, while it's always been a challenge, now that I have three little sweet spirits with all their own individual needs and wants I'm beside myself overwhelmed on some days. They're like little puzzles, advanced mysteries for me, a very mediocre detective, to solve.

Luckily there are things like these delicious bite sized brownies, my blog where I can complain and put life back into perspective, and really good music like the Mouldy Peaches for me to chill to.

While I'm so happy for this wonderful chocolately moment when the house is still and I can just be me, I do really look forward to the happy mornings when I wake to my little smiley kiddies that are excited to start the day with me, their complainy mother who loves them madly!

----------------
Now playing: Ewan McGregor - How wonderful life is
via FoxyTunes

Confessions of "That Mom"

"That Mom". It's such an versatile phrase full of cynicism and insinuation. Today as I used this ambiguous phrase, I couldn't help but contemplate which part of 'That mom' I am. I suppose...

I am "That Mom" who hangs the kids latest and greatest on the Fridge. The kind that has more than one cute expression for ugly words or body parts, ie. "baby's milk", "girl parts", "fort" & "squeak". I'm sad to say, this year I was "that mom" who planed the Preschool Valentine's Party but, forgot to supply my kiddo with Valentine's. The kind that teaches her 3 year old VCR skills, so she can catch more zzz's.

"That Mom" who serves cereal for dinner and cold pizza for breakfast and kisses her kids so many times in a day, they have perma-dention in their foreheads.

I am "That Mom" who wipes away dirt with a licked thumb and hold kids over public potties. The kind who buys xtra underwear to avoid laundry and has a "Company's Coming!" drill. I am "That Mom" who cries a little each time she folds the kids out grown clothes and wishes they'd never grow up and grow up quicker, all at the same time.

I am "That Mom" that sweeps crumbs under the stove and kicks toys under the couch when noone's looking. She who forgets to change the non-smelly diaps and every once in a while forgets a kid here or there. I am "That Mom" who throws the occasional and not-so occasional tantrum along side her preschooler, loves dress-ups, twirling, and polishing tiny toe nails.

I am "That mom" who blogs away her lifes complaints, loves to sew mediocre creations, and do "yo-go". What more can I say sometimes we're all a little bit of "That Mom".

If I told you these words:

• Toddler
• Nap Time
• Licorice
• Both Hands
• "Nigh, Night, Honey"

Would you know just how desperate I was today?

"Super Mom", take a hike already!

What to do when Chocolate won't fix it?

Due to Fin I'm short on sleep, the kids have contracted cabin fever along with every other fever floating around calgary, my house looks like a battle zone and my desperate attempts for order are seeming dismal and sad. At my breaking point last week Jess suggested hiring help. It was like the magic of an epidural all over again. A housekeeper, what would that be like? Heaven, mixed with a little bit of guilt, but I'm guessing more Heaven, than guilt.

Really, I know it's silly to feel guilty, or bad about not measuring up to the 'super mom' that nags in the back of my mind. Where did she come from anyways? In the cartoons there's only the little angel and devil that sit on your shoulders, there's no minature idealistic mom demanding perfection from good intending mothers.

Either way, I'm going to do my best to ignore 'super mom', who from here on out will be referred to as 'stupid mom'. The housekeeper comes for the first time on Tuesday. I know I'm the kind of woman that will be tempted to clean top to bottom the morning before she comes, but I'll try to resist that as well. In fact, that temptation comes from 'stupid mom' as well. To all the other guilt ridden women out there, relinquish 'stupid mom'! Send her on a permanent Hiatus. And, be thankful to just be you: a great woman because she does her best and chooses to be happy with that!

Bath Time: An Institution for Patience

Bath time is like an institution for patience.

"No Splashing"
"Turn the water off"
"Sit down"
"No drinking the water"

And, "I said, No Splashing", about 15 more times, sums it up.

I figure "Bath Time" is a success if the water stays in the tub, most the shampoo gets rinsed away and the kiddies get wetter than I do.

The Adoring Mommy vs. The Mommy Monster: Round 1

Today in church I can remember holding sweet little Fin and singing "As I have Loved You" and feeling the Spirit so strongly my heart felt like it might explode. I wish I could hold on to those sweet feelings endlessly.

Tonight as Jess and I tag teamed the 3 pips I felt anything but feelings of sweet peace, it was closer to borderline insanity. And, now as I reflect, I wonder why I can't hold onto those tender feelings of the Spirit during the witching hours of the evening when all the zoo animals need to be fed and watered.

Where does the adoring mommy go and how do I slay the "Mommy Monster" that too quickly takes her place?

In the Words of Experienced Mothers Everywhere

2 1/2 weeks and counting till' little Fin's arrival. Aside from, crowded and large, I'm feeling fairly anxious. When I first found out I was pregnant I was brimming with delight and enthusiasm, (labor being a good 7 months off), and now I find myself laying in bed in the wee hours of the morning, mourning that inevitable day. The thought seems to twist my stomach into untieable knots.

I just don't remember being this worried in times past. With Ky I was naive, and with Bridge I spent my time worrying about the recovery/newborn stage. But, with this one, I just plain cower at the thought of the needles, drips, and the 18 hours prior to baby's arrival. What's more is the very positively negative response I get when I ask other mothers about life after #3. The word, "Doomed" seems to surface again and again.

So, there you go, with looming visions of labor and the sound of experienced mothers everywhere chanting "Your Doomed", I cannot seem to get much sleep past 5:30am.

Learning to "Be Still"

Being able to stay home with my children is a blessing I thank the Lord for daily, usually while I'm rocking one of my precious little ones and reflecting on the beauty of my life. But, then there's that time that comes nearly daily, when I don't really have anything pressing. No deadlines, no one counting on me to accomplish something, and no one waiting in the wings to say, "Good Job" if I do.

And, at these moments, I'm unsure of what I "should" be doing. Because, melancholies like me find a list of "shoulds" comforting, not stifling like the Cholerics of the world. Sometimes Mo is like my Yoda, with her profound words of wisdom that seem to permanently penetrate my heart. One that has really made an impression as of late, was to change all the "shoulds" that plague my life, with "coulds". "I should bath the kids before church, so we don't look like the frazzled family we are" to "I could bath the kids before church," etc. The odd thing is, that while the "shoulds" plague my life, I feel lost without them. It's uncomfortable to have down time, or time without an agenda.

Last night while I was feeling this way, I recalled President Hinckley saying, "take time to Be Still". So, I sat on the couch, something I rarely do, and just watched my little ones giggle, play, and rip at each others hair. And, I'd love to report that it was some amazing moment, but really it was just uncomfortable, like when you have a naggy itch that you can't reach. Being "Still" is challenging, but I can see the benefits, and so, I will keep trying to take time out, breath and just "Be Still".

"I Dressed Myself" -the button.

Where do you find a button maker at a time like this? It's not in the yellow pages under Button Making, I know I've looked. I just need a few buttons that say, "I dress myself". And, maybe one that says, "My dad picked out these clothes." Ky's at that age, where I would rather keep my sanity, and my hair, rather than force her to wear anything that matches. Her dad on the other hand just has to sprinkle some daddy charm and, "poof" she obeys. This is where the "My dad picked out these clothes" button comes in.
Last week I was a little behind getting ready for church, so Jess took over dressing the kids. Mistake, I know. I'm the mom who had to hang my head in shame as my 'little orphan' daughter walked around with syrup in her matted hair, and two different shoes. No exaggeration. I'll have to make more time on Sundays. But, there's still the daily fashion dilemma. Remedy: Daddy's charm. Beg, borrow, steal, I just need a little.

Evidence.

"Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most." -Hope Floats

The Toddler. How can I love this age and dread it at the same time. Some days I think this is the fun-est and funniest age so far, and other days I count how many weeks until she turns four. I don't know if four is without floppy banana tantrums, or hysterics at bedtime, but the hope gets me through some days.

There's probably not a week that goes by that I'm not stopped by some nastolgic parent
feeling the need to warn me, "Enjoy them, they grow up so quickly." This makes me think it
must be a struggle for every parent to appreciate every moment, and yet this doesn't quiet
the ache I feel for the moments I have missed. It makes me sad to think of how many times
Ky has turned my head towards her and said, "Talk to me, mom." She only says this when I've
ignored her initial attempts of engaging my attention.

I guess it's just about trying harder to put down the wash rag, let that email reply wait and
enjoy the magic of these sweet little spirits.

Toddler & Trouble...two birds of a feather.

Originally uploaded by stephhhead.

There was a small moment this week when the words, Kyanne and difficult entered my troubled mind. And then the minute passed, my muddled head cleared, and I realized it is really, toddler and trouble that go hand in hand.

I commit this to paper, knowing there will come another mischievous toddler and another stress filled day when I will want to rip my hair out strand by strand to distract me from the my current responsibility as the house zoo keeper. Instead I will remember this day, when my brain and my heart spoke in unison and said, "awe-ha, toddlers are trouble, what did you expect?"

Chasing a "FAIR"y Tale.

There seems to be a popular school of thought among parents, to treat your children the same, and "be fair". This is far from my natural inclinations as a parent, and I foolishly spent time worrying about it. Only to realize, my children are different. Which stands to reason, I should show love and parent them differently as well.

Someone mentioned I should be careful not to favor them. But, I naturally do. I can't help but favor both my little sweethearts. How I could possibly be 'equal', in how I love these perfect little creatures! Bridgey, so mild and docile. Kyanne, so explosive and full of color. Both hold my heart in the palm of their bitty hands, but my parenting towards them is as individual as their little Spirits.

It's amazes me that these precious babes come pre-wrapped in their own particular personalities. Ky has been busy, bossy, radiant and thrilled about life, from day one. By contrast, Bridgey, was calm, docile, sweet and contented to go with the flow. Both bringing cherished and vibrant colors to our family portrait. What will this next little baby be like?