Jump Starting My Week.

Yes, even weekends can be crazy.

Sometimes it's impossible to get caught up on things over the weekend, and I rely on a lazy Monday to get things back on track. Yesterday was supposed to be our lazy Monday, but shockingly, things don't always go as planned.

We have been staying busy lately, which might partially explain my lack of blog posts. As school and everything else winds down, we have also found ourselves doing things such as:

Easter.

Learning to ride a bike.

Repairing a deck.

This awesome Mud Run with mom friends.

And on and on...

So yesterday, on our supposed lazy Monday morning, when I chose not to shower and get ready for the day before conquering breakfast with the kids and school, it is no wonder that the engine wouldn't turn when we loaded up at 7:35 in the morning. 

It's no surprise that the battery was dead as a doornail, which by the way—have you ever wondered what that saying means? Look no further. 

And it was unusually chilly yesterday morning; as I unloaded kids (2 of them still in PJ's) from the van and called my husband at work, I kissed lazy Monday goodbye. As I waited for our sweet neighbor to come with jumper cables, I scrambled to dress my little ones more appropriately for the weather and switched myself from PJ pants to jeans.

While we rushed over to school, then on to Goodyear to switch cars with my husband, followed by 3 consecutive shopping errands, I struggled to keep perspective on our Monday turn of events. While I worried over the fact that I might run into a familiar face in public with my ragamuffin kids and my day-in-the-life-of-a-mommy attire, my kids joyfully sang and played in the backseat and played eye-spy in shopping carts.

I am realizing more and more that these trivial upsets in my routine shape me more than any lazy Monday ever could. How can I really rate a dead car battery, a tardy kindergartner and an annoyance in my change of plans in the big scheme of things? I keep thinking back to one year ago when our little guy was hospitalized for viral pneumonia. 

It was scary; it helped pull everything into perspective for us. It reminded us to be thankful for the truly important things and people in our lives.  And you can bet we held them all a little closer and tighter that week.

I think of my friend Sarah who is a passionate advocate for the people of Sudan. I think of those woman and children near the Nuba Mountains who try to avoid bombs and famine while I sit here typing in my house, stressed about surviving until Season 3 of Downton Abbey.

http://www.bareearth.org/

I have to keep my own undesirable situations in perspective, and learn what I can from each tiny trial.  And as our crazy Monday morning finally culminated in a spectacular moment of triumph when Mason used his potty in the front of the Camry in the Post Office parking lot because we were out of other options, I had to laugh.

And even though I'm pretty sure I sent at least one exasperated text yesterday morning using words like “blerg” and “annoyed,” I'm very thankful for these lazy manageable Mondays. And even though Mondays are the potholes in the road of life, it's true, these tiny potholes are molding and preparing me for who knows what. It's not very hard to recover from the inconvenience of a dead battery and a trip to the store in Pajamas and no make-up.  I'm still trying to keep the big picture in check, remembering that these little warm-up stretches are hopefully making me more flexible for future, bigger potholes.

Mommy Martyr? Silencing the Crotchety Old Lady Within.

Sunday afternoon we drove home from a lovely mountain getaway with family; our legs were cramped from hours in the car and our stomachs were nauseous from winding mountain roads. And after days spent relaxing and doing nothing, my motherly instincts kicked in immediately after we unloaded the car.  So, while I was inside scrambling through the house, sorting laundry, unloading the dishwasher and putting things in appropriate drawers, I looked out the window and saw my husband joyfully pushing all 3 of our kids as high as he could on our swing set. So often my husband gets it right.

I hadn't even noticed what a gorgeous evening it was, or how urgently my 3 moppets needed to run. I joined my little family in the yard and spent some time playing. It is sad that I still have to remind myself of my true priorities so often. I am always chasing down balance, and it's tricky.  And while I certainly don't intend to play good cop bad cop with my husband, why does it happen sometimes? Because somebody has to do the laundry and put things away?

It's no secret that I like to plan; I like to keep things together and fairly controlled in my life, but sometimes I catch myself in a moment like this—looking out a window at laughing kids while I'm unpacking suitcases and worrying about messes and supper and bedtime and I realize my balance has tipped the wrong way. Again. So often I am once again the party pooper who is only worried about everyone having clean fingernails and 9 hours of sleep.

As moms, not only do we find ourselves constantly dragging the chains of housework and food preparation, but we also might find ourselves yelling about dangerous games of horseplay, plastic Light Sabers that swing dangerously close to faces, climbing to dangerous heights on chairs and ladders, and on and on and on. We are protective by nature; we want our kids safe and our houses clean. At the same time, I want to guard against turning my natural motherly instincts into a complete fun zapper. If I am so focused on safe kids and a perfect house, I might get my wish, but I might end up with kids who fearfully tip toe around their own home. And the sparks of bitterness and resentment that sometimes ignite might eventually turn me into the dreadful crotchety old lady I fear I may someday become.

Sometimes I feel the crotchety old lady welling up inside me. Many of us have her. She is the voice that loves to bombard me with facts: the laundry needs done. The floor needs cleaned. The kids are due for a bath. She is the voice that says, my workday is never done and I never get enough sleep! She is the one who rolls her eyes when nobody helps clean up the kitchen after dinner and throws a fantastic pity party because she's the only person who ever does anything around here!

And while the crotchety old lady may be telling the truth and presenting legitimate facts, she needs a new pair of old lady glasses to take a real look at the present. I love the English word for the present—because it is a reminder that NOW is a gift. And when I let the ugly voice of an embittered old lady shout negativity inside my head all day, when I inevitably become a REAL crotchety old lady someday, who will be left to listen to my whiny stories about the injustices of life? Nobody wants to listen to that. I'm afraid women are particularly guilty of this. Granted, the monotony of these years and the lack of immediate gratification is often draining. And we might not get daily recognition for our dirty work and child-rearing responsibilities, but what can I do now to focus on the present—these many gifts before me that outweigh the infinite messes and endless discipline sessions?

I am the first to admit that some days the crotchety old lady in my head wins the battle. Sure, I would love to roll around on the floor with the kids all day instead of folding laundry or I wish I could sleep in until 9 just once in my life! I am trying to silence this cranky old lady with reminders of other truths. These days are fleeting. My babies already need me less each minute of every day. I am blessed. Not only are they watching my every move, but they actually still want to play with me and sit on my lap.

Obviously I don't think we should just let our home become filled with dirty laundry and dishes and cobwebs. There's no need to make bath night a semi-annual event, but we need to balance our responsibilities to our husbands and kids in a genuine attempt to enjoy and appreciate the present. I have seen what happens when women wallow in years of self-pity over the thankless job of motherhood, and it isn't attractive. When I am especially tired, I feel myself becoming the mommy martyr, the one who doesn't have time to sit and play with matchbox cars because there is just too much to do! It's just a matter of time before the mommy martyr becomes the crotchety old lady, because the patterns and selfish thinking are already there.  


I am so guilty of this, and although one of my greatest fears is becoming the bitter, cranky old lady, I know that I need to focus on the truths of the present to keep her from eventually taking over. When it comes down to it, the crotchety old lady is my selfishness, telling me that the gifts of the present are never enough. These moments are temporary in every way; let's send the poor old lady to a place where she won't drag us down with her selfish, bitter thoughts again. 

Is there any encouragement from belonging to Christ? Any comfort from his love? Any fellowship together in the Spirit? Are your hearts tender and sympathetic? Then make me truly happy by agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, loving one another, and working together with one heart and purpose. Don't be selfish; don't live to make a good impression on others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourself.  Don't think only about your own affairs, but be interested in others, too, and what they are doing.

Philippians 2:1-4

Bite-Sized Blog: On the Go Go Go Go.

The Future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.  ~C.S. Lewis

We are only two weeks into the New Year and I feel like we've been in fast-forward ever since the ball dropped. Yesterday morning I spent nearly three hours in the pediatric dentist's office with my big guy.  And I feel the need to stop right here and say there is a special, special place in my heart for these people. I'm convinced pediatric dentists and their aids are performing earthly purgatory or required penance.  

{I pause to applaud you here.}

Besides the dental visits, we have simply been on the move so much, I feel like I haven't spent as much time face to face with my kids. Whether sitting and talking with them, reading or playing—I have missed our slower moments together and I am hoping to modify our current schedule with much more down time very soon. I'm having a really hard time keeping them little.

So, I am going to keep this quick, but we don't want you to think we've completely forgotten about the world of blog-dom! We have lots of fun activities and plans coming up in the next few months, and as long as we survive trips to the pediatric dentist, we can't wait to share them with you.

Even in the middle of life at full throttle, I was reminded today that we can create special moments while errand-running and carpooling.  Here are a few simple thoughts if you are feeling stressed about being on the go and want to make the most of your time! 

Look Around, Be Creative.

It's amazing what happens when you encourage your kids to observe what's going on outside the car windows (or shopping cart). It's very easy to take a simple game of “I Spy” to the next level while driving in town.  Come up with a counting or matching game if you are stuck in traffic, or help kids admire big buildings and construction equipment. Once you look up and out—there are many things to see!  This is also a great way to encourage conversations about the amazing created world in which we live.  Check out contrasting colors in the earth and sky, etc.

Promote Interaction, Create Stories.

I have always enjoyed creating stories, so this is a timeless game for me. Once you take a moment to look around you, encourage your kids to come up with stories about what they see while they are on the move. 

For example: Yesterday we saw 2 really filthy semi-trucks beside us on the highway. The kids and I came up with many ideas about how the trucks became so dirty, where they had been and where they were going.  My big guy noticed 2 clean stripes on the side and it was fun listening to him hypothesize about this mystery.

Encourage your kids to be creative! This also helps them start realizing the world is bigger than their own house and street—many license plates tell us the other cars on the road are from very far away. What is their story? This can easily be applied to a trip to the mall or Target as well. Who do you see? What are they doing?

If you want to take this to the next level, here is a printable for your child's All About Me book (go HERE to start one today).  Continue talking about your adventures at home. Have your child write or draw a story here.  It might turn into wonderful essay material down the road--you never know!  

Go here to print this:

Give a little, Get a lot.

This is a principle we need to remember in parenting as much as possible, but especially when life gets busy. If I give up control of the music playing in our car, the reward of happy, LOUD singing from the back seat is always worth it.

I recently noticed a kindred thread between two of my sweet friends: holey jeans.

As I think about the attitude and examples these ladies have shown me, I have much to learn.  Am I the type of mom who has chased on hands and knees and given piggy-back rides enough to warrant holes in the knees of my jeans? Whether or not you consider yourself a hands-on mom who gets on the floor with the kids, an ounce of interaction (on the floor or on the couch) will always be rewarded in the eyes of your child. In my opinion, holey jeans are a sign of a very blessed mom with very blessed kids. Patch up those jeans, stretch your legs and be interactive—it is always worth it.

For now, it's time for me to take a few deep breaths and get back in the fast lane. The laughing gas has worn off and it's time to lick our wounds with some tasty treats:  non-sugary, dentist-approved of course!

You will never find time for anything.  If you want time you must make it.

~Charles Buxton

Flashing Lights and Winter Woes, Revisited.

**While scurrying around this week, I stumbled across this post from my {old} blog.  It is dated almost exactly one year ago, and it was good for me to revisit these thoughts and be reminded about the many blessings in my life as we approach yet another NEW year!

~~~

On our way home from Ohio this Christmas, my three kids, husband and I were driving through the foothills of Kentucky on 75 when suddenly the check engine light started flashing like crazy. I grew up in a home where cars regularly had flashing check engine lights and we simply covered it with black electrical tape, but to Steve it was new and scary. We slowly and carefully prayed our way through the next three states, hoping that our 1997 Plymouth Voyager would give us one last trip home.

As we sat for six hours in van-related thought and conversation, I kept thinking about how although I had never been “proud” to drive a little white mini-van from the 90's, I had taken for granted the fact that it would be around to get us where we needed to go for at least a few more years. As much as I had kicked and screamed about having to drive a mini-van in the first place, I realized not only had our tiny Voyager made us mini-van fans (with its sticky sliding doors and low gas mileage), it had also found an endearing spot in our hearts.

Cynthia Ozick, one of my favorite essayists, said, “When something does not insist on being noticed, when we aren't grabbed by the collar or struck on the skull by a presence or an event, we take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.” How true is that? How often does it take a flashing “check engine light” to get our attention? I started thinking about all the things I take for granted daily, the endless list of things I fail to appreciate, the lack of gratefulness I show to everyone and everything around me, and I was completely overwhelmed.

The very fact that we made it to our home from the highway was something to be thankful for since 37,261 Americans are killed annually in crashes (U.S. Census Bureau). I am not the kind of person who is afraid to drive my car or fly in a plane, but the fact that we have the luxury of driving in cars and flying in planes and safely returning to our homes in the first place is really pretty remarkable if you stop and think about it.

One week after Christmas vacation we made the decision to cut our cable. Those who know me will sympathize with how much I have grown to love the convenience of cable TV and most of all, the undisputed best modern day invention: the DVR. It was painful to pack up the box to Dish Network and heartbreaking to lose hours of saved material on the DVR. I had more than begun to take advantage of the ability to pause, rewind and fast forward live television and I had forgotten how to sit and actually watch a commercial. I took for granted that my DVR box would always say, “Good morning! What do you want to watch today?” I miss my 140 channels and I hate the black pointed bunny ear antenna above my bookshelves. After a week though, I am honestly realizing I do not miss aimlessly lying in bed watching shows I don't really care about. I am already enjoying going to bed earlier and reading more. But I digress.

If there is one thing that never ceases to amaze me, if there is one thing we all take for granted daily it is the created universe. Just the ability to sit here typing this—I am held down by gravity, I am breathing oxygen in a perfect atmosphere as the perfectly sized Earth perfectly rotates around a Sun that would burn us if we were closer and freeze us if we were any further away. I could go on and on about this. Many more facts here.

In fact, the simple act of breathing is a work of art that leaves me speechless when I really think about it. When I take a breath, there are so many intricacies that go into making my heart and lungs work in perfect unison and it is really almost shocking that more things don't going wrong or that we aren't sick all the time. For those of us who are visual, here is a neat video. 

A few years ago I read Where is God when it hurts? by Philip Yancey and although it's not the kind of feel good book you want to just pass out randomly to your friends, I learned a lot by reading it. He talks repeatedly about working with leprosy patients in India. I never knew that leprosy is actually a disease of the nervous system; basically those with leprosy lose the ability to feel things and therefore hurt themselves routinely because they lack the ability to tell when they are in danger (i.e. touching a burning stove, wearing shoes that don't fit and ruining their feet, etc.) I had never looked at the ability to “feel” as a blessing before. I had never realized that even the ability to hurt is sometimes a good thing. We take for granted the fact that when we hurt, whether by slamming our fingers in the car door or when we are slighted by someone we love, if we lack the ability to feel intense pain, we would also lack the ability to know love or joy. We would be apathetic robots with an “I have it all together” status, but feeling nothing.

All this is nothing new and I write it mostly for myself. I am sarcastic and melancholy and I have the emotional capacity of a grape nut. I know it's impossible to skip around singing praises for every breath we take and every blessing we receive, and frankly I would be tempted to trip you if you skipped past me. However, if we stop daily to appreciate just a fraction of the amazing things happening in our lives, we might all be a little less crabby. If I pretend like the orange check engine light is flashing every time I enter the Voyager, I might savor the times when we reach our destination, instead of fussing and whining when we inevitably break down.

“When it comes to life, the critical thing is whether you take things for granted, or take them with gratitude.” G.K. Chesterton

Do As I Say?

My little guy is still figuring out how to make his words. Don't get me wrong, he talks non-stop all day long, but the words coming out of his mouth don't always sound exactly like American English. They often sound like a combination of Mandarin and puppy. Sometimes this results in frustration on both our parts, and sometimes it results in a lengthy game of charades and please guess the important thing I am telling you now before I internally combust.

These games are particularly frustrating when my little guy has something important to tell me when I am driving. Normally my big guy will interpret and pass the important message along to me so we can get it figured out. This morning we went through the process yet again: lengthy detailed story, charades, a misinterpretation, a corrected interpretation, excitement over correct interpretation.

I laughed when I looked in the rear view mirror and saw him sitting so happily in his carseat after we correctly interpreted his speech. He was calm, euphoric.

I was reminded again of the significance of communication. How important are words? Are we always so urgent and passionate with our speech? Does it really all begin with those first words while the baby is holding a drippy sippy cup and wearing a diaper?

We all want to be interpreted correctly.  How many times have I written an email or a text or said quick words without weighing them first, only to have my thoughts all tangled up in a big mess. It only takes a minute for simple little words—spoken or written, to become a powerful, sometimes hurtful, sometimes dangerous tool. So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! (James 3:5)

We are currently training our little guy with the use of one of his favorite words: “No.” Since he spent the first year of his life hearing...

• “No! Don't touch the socket!”
• “NO! Don't stand up in the tub!”
• “NO! DON'T HIT YOUR SISTER!!!”

...it doesn't surprise me that we eventually had to backtrack and explain that “No” shouldn't rank #1 on his list of favorite words. Now that he is finally past the age of munching marbles from under the couch and treating anything (and everyone) as a teething toy, it is time to use the word “No” more carefully. It is his first power word, and it's time to train him that no should be used kindly and thoughtfully.

In the meantime, while I am attempting to focus on these things with my kids, speaking kindly, speaking without pride, speaking to encourage, speaking without complaining, the weather vane arrow keeps snapping back around and pointing at me square in the face. I don't think it's possible to teach your two year old to stop saying “No” if you are constantly screeching “NO! Stop!!” from various rooms of the house or the front seat of the van. In the same way, I doubt our little ones will learn to “do all things without complaining and disputing” with each other if I whine every time I have to take out the trash or mop up yet another tall glass of spilled milk. It will be hard for my kids to really learn to place the desires of others above themselves if I pat myself on the back whenever I go about my good deeds for the day.

What a challenge! I am trying to remove the use of the word “overwhelmed” from my vocabulary thanks in part to some great advice in Rachel Jankovic's book Loving the Little Years.  But our words and how we choose to use them in front of our little ones is a daunting responsibility. I could spend every minute for the rest of my life attempting to only say encouraging things to everyone, and I would still blow it. I would still find myself running late with 3 kids trying to find a missing shoe while gathering up car snacks and finding missing keys, only to start the car and remember the gas tank is empty. It is so hard to impart grace to my angelic cherubs at that moment. 

But in that moment, I have a choice. In that moment I can make a habit out of calmly evaluating the circumstances and remembering those 3 sets of little ears are listening and those 6 little blue eyes are watching. In that moment, everything we have been telling them about our words are put to a visual test, and they will be keeping score. I need to stop telling myself that I'm just tired or there wasn't enough coffee or I am too busy to calmly respond, because I don't accept those kinds of excuses from my kids.

I am thankful, when the silly, crazy moment gets the best of me, that kids are so quick to forgive. I am thankful for a long hug-fest on the couch to make amends. 

I love these thoughts on 20 Resolutions to Taming the Tongue. If you haven't checked it out before, you will find it challenging.  As I spend time training our kids how to wield their tiny words, it's a great reminder that I am being molded, too! 

Fresh Mud Pie Ingredients.

If you are a hard-core follower of The Mud Pie Makers, then by now you know our goal is to take hold of each day, to create memories, to play with our kids—to attempt to see the world through their eyes. 

It is an ambitious goal.

How do we achieve this on a daily basis? How is this lofty objective broken down in the form of hours and minutes while the world blurs by, while our kids go from diapers to graduation gowns in the blink of an eye?

We often make our resolutions in January.  But for me, Fall is a time to start things new. School starts, everything is in a state of fresh schedules and attempted organization; we are already in the midst of transition. What can we do this Fall to take hold of each day? Are there a few small goals I can set? Can I prioritize and manage my time better to achieve these goals?

In my long, long, long list of “mommy improvements,” I have personally selected two areas of concentration for this Fall. I have really noticed  a weakness in these specific areas already since the school year began—perhaps you can relate.  My own mommy improvement goals are to listen better and to be more a more active parent. Over the course of the past few years, in the busy-ness of life, I have picked up a few bad habits! 

Listening.

If you are anything like me, it is easy to tune out the white noise that begins early in the morning when we are scrambling to get food in mouths and clothes on backs. The white noise comes in a variety of little voices; they are usually telling me something that can “wait until later” while I remind them to keep chewing or get their shoes on. Later the white noise returns when I'm unloading the dishwasher or even sitting on the floor playing. I am not ignoring my child, but my mmm-hmm responses quickly let my little one know that her long, detailed story of such-and-such boo-boo or his deep explanation of an elaborate Star Wars Lego battle is not quite worthy of my full attention. In fact, I am giving them a mommy version of the blank stare. It's the familiar blank stare they often give me when I am explaining obedience or protocol or why we have to go to bed even though the sun is still out.

Is it possible to calmly squat down to eye-level in these moments, to take two whole minutes to give them my full attention, to listen to these simple but important (to them) stories, knowing that they may not want to share every detail of their life with me before I know it?

Lackadaisical?

Has anyone else fallen into a chronic daily mommy groove that leaves us justifying our time management and hollering at our kids to “stop yelling at each other!” from two rooms away? Back when I only had one baby, I never imagined it could happen to me. I loved spending hours reading smart baby books and singing educational songs and deep cleaning the bathrooms and scrubbing my grout. Now I am lucky to clear laundry from the living room and I'm pretty sure I have a million dollars worth of stock in the Matchbox cars on the carpet.

It takes a great deal of effort to keep it all together.

At the same time, I find myself saying it's impossible to keep it together, so have I stopped trying? It's funny how our goals change with every month that passes as a mom. With all the zillions of blogs and books on organization, home-efficiency and time management, you'd think we could all get our acts together. But honestly, who has time to read it all? Around here, when everyone is scrubbed and brushed and tucked away for the night, I'm completely exhausted. We have more tools to communicate and simplify than ever before, and all we've done is add more things to our to-do lists.

About 5 months ago my husband decided to drop our cable. I'd be lying if I said I was on board with the decision, but in the end it was something we needed to do. At first I went through TV withdrawals. The first few weeks were painful as we attempted to get our little bunny-ear antenna to tune local stations and watch TV online. Eventually Summer came and nothing was on anyway and the days were longer. We went outside more. We read more. Soon I stopped missing it. Soon it became normal to leave the TV off for an entire day. Soon I started thinking back to when we wasted hours every week staring at the screen in our living room.

I don't want to sound like a mommy martyr—suffering with 3 kids AND no Cable! Trust me, I've already watched enough TV to fill up about ten lifetimes, and I'm not saying we'll never have cable again, and yes, we still have a TV in our house.  I guess, for me, the loss of daily lifeless TV viewing showed me many other areas in my life where minutes and hours are wasted. With all the new things we keep adding to our busy lives, are there other pointless things I can remove? Can I find a better balance of the time wasters and non-essentials and cut them out?

I don't want my kids to see me (and mimic me!) as an apathetic person who passively goes about my day because I'm honestly too lazy to just get moving and do what needs to be done. I'm writing this because I am guilty. I'm a very far from perfect mom. In fact, just last week, in my son's first week of school, I inadvertently crashed a PTA Board Meeting (whoops!), then on Friday I sent him to school wearing a hat for hat day, then found out hat day is this Friday.  I make a mess of things on a regular basis.

A Lofty Goal.

We can't just work toward these self-improvement goals for the sake of simply bettering ourselves--shockingly it's not all about me.  This is a familiar verse that puts my mommy days into perspective: Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. (Philippians 2:3-4)

How does this apply to how I treat my family—specifically my kids. Will I listen to important little stories? Will I become someone who is serving out of the interest of others?  What changes can we make as we head into the Fall, a new year, to make memories with our little ones and take hold of each day?

The Root of the Matter.

There's never a good time for a root canal. I can think of about a billion other places I'd rather be sitting on a Monday afternoon than in the squeaky, plastic covered chair of an oral surgeon, but when pain wins out and teeth are dead, options are limited.

As a mom, it is especially difficult to run around to several dentist appointments in one day, sitting in chairs and receiving numbing shots. Thankfully my husband had the day off work, so while I sat in the last chair for close to an hour with my mouth forced open by plastic and rubber, wearing protective glasses to keep the shards of tooth and powder from spraying down my throat and into my eyes, I couldn't help thinking how silly I looked and how incredibly uncomfortable and awkward the whole thing is. And I honestly kept looking to my side, wondering if there was a tank full of colorful talking fish, offering advice on how the dentist should proceed.

During my hour of conscious “thinking time” while I ignored the chatter about drill sizes and cotton and the ever-present smell of nauseating antiseptics, I eventually found a happy place. I remembered that the previous Monday I had been in a different chair—an expensive cushioned chair, the chair that I visit four times a year.  Come to think of it I occasionally have my roots done there as well. That cushy chair smells like exotic shampoos and soothing oils; a chair where an expert gives me a relaxing scalp massage and nobody tells me I should floss more.

When at last the root canal was over and the last X-rays were taken, I sat up and checked myself out and paid the bill at the sterile counter. Then I fully realized that not only is it much less painful to have my roots done at Wisteria Salon, but it's a lot cheaper as well. In fact, I might be doing haircuts at home with safety scissors for a few years.

At any rate, I drove myself home with a numb, lop-sided face, filled my prescriptions, then came home to find my little guy was sick and my husband had already cleaned up one episode of the sick. I was reminded again that there is never a good time for a root canal.  (For instance, I had my first root canal as a freshman in high school when my tooth was knocked free during a Christmas Eve basketball practice. It was not ideal timing, and I have had a fake front tooth ever since.)

While the kids and I stayed inside for several days and licked our wounds, I realized more than ever how much my life resembles the book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. I'm sure you know exactly what I'm talking about. It all starts with something simple, like my daughter asking me to draw with her at the easel. In order to get to the easel, I need to pick up 400 matchbox cars, which need to be organized by size and color. This allows me to find that long-lost yellow Uno Moo sheep that we couldn't find! I excitedly put the sheep away in the game box which makes me realize the game shelf is a mess, again. So I organize the games and in the meantime find a piece to the princess puzzle the kids started yesterday. Since we were only missing two pieces, this is great news. I place the piece in the puzzle and head back over to the easel to draw with my daughter, but then I notice the paper is unraveling on the ground, so I need a piece of tape to secure it. When I go to my drawer to find the tape I notice some coupons that are about to expire, and so on and so on.

I eventually ended up back in the toy room, marker in hand, facing the easel, sitting on a tiny yellow kid-craft folding chair with my knees scrunched up into my lap. As moms, we sit in a wide variety of all kinds of chairs throughout the week: perhaps you are currently sitting in the chair feeding a newborn baby and trying to catch a few minutes of precious sleep, or maybe you were just sitting in the chair in your minivan driving the kids to and from the store and piano lessons and school.  

And as much as I love a good recliner or those cushy chairs at Wisteria Salon, I'm pretty sure sometimes it's necessary to spend a few uncomfortable hours at the dentist to eliminate the root of the problem.  Since my tooth already feels 100X better than it did last week, maybe those chairs that cause some discomfort are ultimately what I need to take the root of the pain away. It's a stretch, but in another sense, spending a few minutes sitting in a tiny folding chair near an easel in the toy room while ignoring the mess in the room will be a lot more memorable for my daughter than if I spend the morning getting the house organized.  It's a lesson I seem to revisit daily.

So after a week of reflective recovery from our minor set-backs, I am heading into the weekend ready to plop down on the many chairs of motherhood and sink my mended teeth into some strawberry Laffy Taffy. Just kidding Dr. Swinderman!! Just kidding.  And for those who have never had a root canal, I leave you with a link to this video of what you are missing. Enjoy......

Now, most dentist's chairs go up and down, don't they? The one I was in went back and forwards. I thought 'This is unusual'. And the dentist said to me 'Mr Vine, get out of the filing cabinet. ~Tim Vine

Popsicles in Pools

The dust continues to settle on our most recent adventure—a whirlwind trip to the Midwest to participate in my baby brother's beautiful wedding. The trip odometer read 1,400 miles, 450 games of “I spy,” 125 rainbow goldfish crunched into tiny van crevasses, and 16 half-eaten sucker sticks melted into tiny teeth.

One thing that continues to amaze me about these trips is that no matter how I plan—I am a planner you know, there will be traffic in unexpected places, downpours in the middle of mountain driving and babies who wake up hours before they should. Flexibility is a skill that it forced upon us with the gift of motherhood. With each child there is another set of wants and needs, another hungry belly, another dirty face and another time frame that is not quite in sync with mine.

For the past two days I have had great intentions to unpack the bags, put the laundry away, finish organizing the toy room, take things to goodwill, mop the floors, put things away! The house seems to still be in post-adventure disarray and my little guy has done nothing but follow me around the house whimpering and clinging to my left leg.

Because of the whimpering and clinging we have spent the majority of the past two days outside in the baby pool where the sun is hot, and deep well water runs cool from green garden hoses. Today they ate Popsicles while sitting in the pool and the green ice melted down their chins and dripped into the water. I watched chunks of Popsicle melt into the pool and I watched Mason sift through the grassy water, find the chunk and shove it back into his mouth. It was a lovely summer day and as they splashed and played I stared at them—forcing a memory.

Then I was thinking about how even in the midst of lazy days where nothing is scheduled or planned, where the kids are deep in the land of imaginary play, the responsibilities of motherhood are there—lurking shadows that can instantly force a shift in fun:

• Suddenly realizing that the baby is playing with a mysterious “log” in the sandbox = an immediate fun-ender. <Insert 20 minutes of child and sandbox clean-up>
• Leaving the baby in the living room for no less than 60 seconds to retrieve a non-swimmy diaper resulting in an artistic display of some sort on the middle of the living room floor = a fun-ender. <Insert several minutes of child and carpet clean-up>

Long ago I willingly accepted these responsibilities: the constant hunger of bottom-less bellies, washing of sweaty kids and sweaty clothes, scrubbing of dingy baby teeth, driving to and fro and the immeasurable changing of diapers.  I can't take three small kids and plan a day-o-fun that doesn't involve an unexpected mess and needs that must be met immediately.  Instead of always worrying about all the hypothetical messes that could occur at any time during my day or tracking down that tricky fun-ender who is lurking in the shadows, I'm learning to enjoy the moment and clean it up when I can.  Sometimes it's best to just eat Popsicles in the baby pool and embrace the gooey melted mess that comes with lots of smiles and laughter.

On this note I am supremely thankful this week. 

• I am thankful for the flexibility of my young kids. They show me how to relax.
• I am thankful for a safe drive and a lovely visit with family.
• I am thankful for cheap popsicles and sticky faces.
• I am thankful for water splashes on the pages in my journal.
• I am thankful for the fun sounds Mason makes when he impersonates a jet flying above us.

“The holy grail of joy is not in some exotic location or some emotional mountain peak experience. The joy wonder could be here! Here, in the messy, piercing ache of now, joy might be - unbelievably - possible! The only place we need see before we die is this place of seeing God, here and now.” 
~Ann Voskamp

“I don’t need more time to breath so that I may experience more locales, possess more, accomplish more. Because wonder really could be here - for the seeing eye.” Ann Voskamp