So being that we're in Austin, without our stuff, and with very tight funds, we like to find free things to do.

Today I thought we'd make a little outing to Cabela's. I've never been and heard that there was pretty much a whole taxidermy museum in there, along with a good sized aquarium filled with large river fish. Sounds like fun for kids right? Off to Buda we went!

The store is huge and in the center is a small mountain with taxidermied animals all over it. It's nice that most of them are labelled as well for learning purposes. There's also a small section with animals from Africa.  The kids thoroughly enjoyed the mountain, little waterfalls and animals posed thereon but the aquarium was definitely the highlight of our trip, at least for the boys.

Within the giant freshwater tank swim Catfish, Crappie, Sunfish, Carp, and Black Bass among others. We also saw a Pig-nosed turtle and some snapping turtles. Then we noticed all the goldfish in the tank. You would think we would have seen them first, being that their orange color was vivid in comparison with the drab colored fish around them. But we hadn't because they were all clustered at the top of the tank in a back corner. About that moment it dawned on me why this was.

A snapping turtle swam right in front of us with a wiggling goldfish in its mouth. As the turtle swam, it chomped on the fish and suddenly a goldfish head was floating to the bottom of the tank, the body still in the turtles mouth. My boys made exclamations of "Awesome!" and "Cool!"  I hoped my daughter hadn't noticed. But when I turned toward her, she was staring, horror stricken at the decapitated goldfish head on the pebbled floor of the tank. I was about to say something to her when we both watched a large catfish swim over the fish head, and suck it up into it's mouth.

"No!" she cried out. "Not goldfish!" Goldfish are too cute to eat!!!" Her eyes were huge with concern and brimming with tears.

I patted her on the back and tried to explain to her about the circle of life and why it was okay that cute little goldfish were getting torn apart or swallowed whole. Luckily she kept the tears at bay and while her brothers sat transfixed, happily watching goldfish get plucked off one by one, she kept cheering them on in their pitiful attempts to get away. I love her tender heart.

My husband and I went and played some pool last week, sometime near Valentine's Day. The pool tables were located inside a bowling alley and for a Wednesday night it was really bustling, especially with teenagers. I watch hordes of them filter in and out and as I observed I began to think of how I would have labeled them in High School. That dude over there with the tight T-shirt and big muscles he flexed unnecessarily before rolling his bowling ball, definitely a jock. Those two grubby looking guys with the super long hair and slouchy hats, the skaters. Then there were the popular girls with lots of makeup and gorgeous hair gabbing absentmindedly in a big group, while a group of quieter girls looked over at them with occasional annoyance, or maybe jealousy. There were a few teenage couples as well. One boy and girl sat alone at a table engaged in a lively conversation. Another teenage couple kissed and hugged every moment they got in between bowling.


It was certainly interesting seeing all these very different teens from an adult perspective, with their body language and dress and hair and other means they used to identify themselves to others. But all I could think as I watched them was, "I am so glad I'll never be a teenager again!" I've thought many times that I'm so glad that trying time is over. That crushes and heartbreak is over. Only, yesterday I realized it's not over. On Valentine's Day this year, my 11 year old son was given this big teddy bear by a girl in his class:

It was so unexpected for me, him bringing home this giant token of 'like' from a girl. He told me I needed to take him to get her something as well because he likes her too. So we went and bought a gift for her worthy of that teddy bear. I didn't think much more of it till yesterday when I was thinking about our upcoming move to Texas.

My 11 year old is not old enough that it will be absolutely devastating to move away, but once again we are uprooting our children and making them leave their friends behind. We first moved away from Baltimore when they were 8, 7 and 3 and my son still talks about the friends he misses there. Now he's older and leaving behind friends and a crush. So though my own personal days of young love and heartbreak are over, my heart is still going to get broken.

My children will have friends and likes and loves that will filter in and out of their lives, whether through moving or misunderstandings and pain or simply the way we all change as we grow. And every time they lose someone they care about, every time their hearts break, mine will break too.

I remember the night when my first boyfriend, my first real love was leaving to serve an LDS Mission. We said our good bye's out on the front lawn, knowing it would be at least 2 years before we saw each other again. We gave each other one final hug and then he drove away. I wanted him to serve this mission more than anything. I knew it would be good for him and for others but it was so hard to let him go. The moment his car disappeared from view I broke down. As I opened the front door I found my mom standing there and she immediately drew me into a tight embrace and held me as I sobbed. How her heart must have been breaking too.

I'm not looking forward to the heartaches my children will face, but I'm grateful I've been through some of my own so I'll be able to comfort and reassure them when they need it.

I've been working on transferring and backdating all of my old blog posts from summersnook.wordpress.com over here. I want everything I've written in one, free, place. For a while I really got into the whole bloggy thing, had giveaway parties and participated in blog challenges. I bought my own domain name (summersnook.com), had someone else come up with an official looking design, did reviews, got lots of comments, etc, etc. Even set up a couple of other blogs devoted entirely to one subject, and sure it was fun, but after a couple of years my motivation to blog started fading. It may have been the addition of more children, life getting busier or just because I overdid it but gradually my writing petered out.

I'm not expecting to get a second wind and go crazy like I did the first time, but as I read through some old posts last night I decided it would be good to do more than say, 2 posts a year. I loved reading through things that happened with my children and I haven't written about my younger two like I did my older two. Maybe because my older two were more difficult when younger and I needed it for my sanity? In any case I'd like to try and make that happen so I can tell them funny stories about themselves when they were young to make them laugh. We'll see if I can stick it out. It's true that life seems to just get busier, and I'm not even one of those, schedule everything to the max and have a million extra curricular activities, kind of mom.

This morning as I was working on joining some crochet motifs together, I looked over at my littlest one, sitting on the couch watching TV and had an overwhelming desire to just snuggle with him. So I joined him on the couch and we interacted with Team Umizoomi together. He's been so sick this past week with a nasty cough and snotty nose but his temperament in spite of that has been as always, loving and smiling and so sweet.

I remember when my other kids were his size and can't believe how much they've grown. Each age brings new challenges and new joys. It all goes by too fast. I hope someday they will read the things I've written about them and have a better understanding of just how much I love them.

What do you get when you cross a sick baby and her refusal to nap that day?
Yes, Vanessa has been a sick little girl. You know the illness, the one where gobs of snot can be seen dangling from her nose. You run for a tissue and as you emerge from the bathroom you dash forward in slow motion, watching in horror as the back of her chubby little hand wipes the snot clear across her cheekbone and into her hair.

Lovely mothering moments these.

So she’s been oozing snot and coughing and running a tiny fever and refusing to nap. Last evening at approximately 6 o’clock my husband was serving us dinner (for those of you not in the know, the darling man cooks every night for us) and Vanessa was very grumpy. We hoped that putting a little food into her belly would keep her quiet make her feel a little better. I put her in her high chair and gave her a bowl of rice. But, oh, the horror! I stirred it up and blew on it! Instant tears and shouts issued forth. It was obvious by the tone and rapidity of her baby babble that she was cussing me out for it. Hubby and I glanced at each other, both obviously inclined to ignore it. But ignoring it did not make it go away. The tears continued and in a moment Hubby wondered if she might prefer her rice on a plate. He dumped the bowl out onto the plate and all of the sudden we had a convulsing child hitting her head on the back of her chair. Oooooookay. Definitely not what she wanted.

“Do you want down?” I asked removing the tray and placing her on the floor.

Instant screamification, jumping up and down, then falling to the floor and writhing. Hubby and I were trying hard not to laugh but never before had we seen such a display. We obliged her by putting her back in her high chair and eating our meal in company of her tears and snot and angry noises. Finally she picked up the spoon, ate the rice (which was now back in her little purple bowl) and didn’t make another peep. We jammied her, she gave us kisses and we put her to bed hoping for her sakes and ours that she would get well soon.

Valentine’s Day came and went. The boys had school parties the day before and on Saturday Hubby and I went out on a date. I didn’t think any more of it until today when Caleb said to me, ” Mom, you need to make me card wif a heart on it.”

I was tucking him into bed as he said this and I felt a little guilty as I realized that all his classmates had given him valentines but his own mother had not. I went out to the kitchen table and fashioned two little Valentine cards for both of my boys and delivered them to the sleepy heads soon after.

Caleb looked at the card with feigned curiosity, “What’s dis?” he said to himself opening the card.

“Dear Caleb, Happy Valentines Day. I love you! Mama,” he read and then the gushing began.

“Aw, fank you for my valentine’s card mom. You’re a Angel! Did is da best card in da whole world! “You’re da sweetest girl mama. I love you!”

I’m thinking my heart isn’t the only one this boy will melt as he gets older.

 I’m sure many of you have seen the previews for a movie currently playing in theaters called, Coraline. It looked a little Nightmare before Christmas-ish to me and it made me curious. I didn’t realize it was based on a book until I visited the library last week and happened to see the book on the shelf. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. It looked like a very short read so I checked it out thinking that maybe my husband would be interested in reading it aloud with me.

We read the first half Saturday night and finished the second half last night. Now don’t let my telling you that it is a dark and twisted tale scare you off. I highly recommend this book. Yes, it’s creepy and heart pounding but it’s a powerful example of doing the right thing in spite of the evil that’s threatening to crush you. And any author that can get my adrenaline rushing and visuals swirling through my head as I read a passage of story is a talented one indeed.

Now I come to what inspired this post in the first place, there is a part in this book when Coraline is making a decision to either face the evil or not and she recalls a memory. She and her father had gone on a walk one day. They went down a hill to the bottom of a gully where a stream was when Coraline’s father yelled at her to run away, up the hill that instant. Then Coraline continues:

“As I got to the top of the hill I heard somebody thundering up the hill behind me. It was my dad, charging like a rhino…The air was alive with yellow wasps. We must have stepped on a wasps nest in a rotten branch as we walked. And while I was running up the hill, my dad stayed and got stung to give me time to run away…He had thirty-nine stings all over him…He said that he wasn’t scared when he was standing there and the wasps were stinging him and hurting him and he was watching me run away. Because he knew he had to give me enough time to run, or the wasps would have come after both of us…”

As I read this passage I cried, hard. I laughed through my tears as I explained why to Tom. One time on a family camping trip my younger brother and sister went off into the wood to explore a bit. They were still within site, a bright piece of shirt here, the top of my brothers head there. Very soon we heard blood curdling cries. We glanced into the wood and saw hundreds of wasps swarming through the air not far from camp. In an instant my dad had dashed straight into the swarming wasps, hoisted my siblings up and came stampeding out of the woods with them, still batting off the wasps. I don’t remember much after that. All I remember was knowing how much my dad loved us because he went straight into what he knew would be agony to rescue his children.

It’s amazing how one little act like that lets you know so much about a person.

So last night the kids and I took a long flight into Denver CO and then a 1 hour flight on a different plane into Salt Lake City UT. The trip went surprisingly well. The children were all agreeable. I think it had something to do with the TV’s on the backs of their seats. If you’re flying with kids and you have Frontier airlines at your airport, use them! 

Anyway, as we were boarding our first flight Caleb and Ethan were directly behind me. As I looked back to make sure they were right on my tail I saw that Caleb had stopped. He had a big smile on his face and was waving to a pretty young Asian woman standing in her row. At that moment he said very loudly (the kid has no volume control), “Hi my girlfriend!” which caused immediate chuckling from the woman and her boyfriend. Only a second after that, while still waving at his ‘girlfriend’ he yelled out, “I WIKE GIRLS!!!!” Everybody in the plane heard that one and burst into laughter. I was laughing too but of course my face was bright red. He’s never said anything like that ever! What a way to start the flight though eh? Kids are great ice breakers.

So as I’m writing this now, we obviously made it safe and sound. I did have to wake Vanessa when we got to the SLC airport and she cried through the whole airport but at least we were off the plane before she was in a bad mood. We arrived at Grandma’s at 12:45 a.m. (2:45 our time) so we were exhausted and fell promptly to sleep. I’m excited to be here, but now I have a wedding cake to start making. The next few days will be very busy ones but I’m glad to be back with family again. I can’t wait till hubby joins us in a week!

The Chicken smells like fried stairwell. That’s what I told my husband when I walked in our apartment door last night. Obviously I’d had another long day. As we snuggled under the covers last night I said, “I think I have a mid-life crisis pretty much every month.”

He snickered, knowing exactly what I meant by that. But really, I’m often in a state of transience when it comes to feeling satisfied with my progress in life. Sure it’s ok to cut yourself some slack once in a while but it’s also important to keep striving to be better. I can rarely find a balance between the two. So I got to thinking about my life and where I am as opposed to where I thought I would be years ago. It reminded me of a collage I made with some church leaders and youth 10 years ago. We got together one night and cut loads of magazines apart, gluing pictures or sayings about our dreams onto poster board.

I dug it out of my hope chest today. I don’t know how it didn’t get thrown away years ago but I’m so glad it didn’t. On the back of the poster board is written ‘May 12, 1998 To compare w/life in 2008′
Well here it is, over 10 years later.

I evidently wanted a cat and dog (still do) and I was going to be a WNBA star. Oh how many hours I spent dreaming of playing professional basketball. Yeah, didn't happen. But I did have fun playing in High School.

 I also put a quote on there about controlling your passions. This was a big one for me - A fiery red head at heart. Tempers run hot in my family and my thoughts as I pasted this phrase on were that I never wanted to lose control of my temper again. (HA! Still trying)

 Funny how the smallest picture on the collage made my heart stop for a moment. Everything that I am now, hinges on a picture of two little rings. Ok, not those rings specifically and not even on our wedding rings specifically, but on our union. I am a wife, I always wanted to be a wife. I am a mother. I didn’t always want to be a mother.

To be perfectly and embarrassingly honest here I was terrified of having to…um…do what it is you have to do to become a mother for a VERY long time. Plus I was never one of those teenage girls who loved kids. I babysat on occasion but I rarely enjoyed it. Babies were messy, slobbery, snotty little things and kids were too annoying, demanding and silly. What a brat I was, huh?
But now motherhood defines me. I mean, I try not to let it completely over run my life. I make sure I have hobbies and spend time to myself. But it defines me in that nothing I do is solely about me anymore. Every decision I make affects my husband and 3 little people who are eager to follow my example. Sometimes that is stressful, mostly though it’s helpful. It’s helped me change for the better. 

Once I heard my 3 year old say Damn! for the first time, I knew right then I had to be better at watching my mouth when I hurt myself. Once I saw my 2 year old trying to drink out of the milk carton I realized that I’d better stop drinking out of the milk carton.

Children make you see the worst in yourself without making you feel like you’re a bad person. You see them following your bad example and you not only don’t get discouraged in yourself, you know without a doubt that you can be better and that you must be better, just for them. It’s win win. They better you, you better them. Without even realizing it sometimes.

In spite of the many dreams I’ve had to cast aside, in spite of how mentally and physically draining child rearing can be, in spite of how horrible I sometimes think I am as a mother, I know that this is exactly where I want to be right now. I have become and am still becoming the person I always wanted to be. One who is improving herself each day and sharing her love of life with people she loves more than life. What could possibly be better than that?

I was lucky to have such a good relationship with my mom as a kid. Of course we had our disagreements but overall things were good, are still good. I never had any reservations about telling her anything. About asking her anything. She knew how to maintain a proper balance between being my mother and being my friend. She believed in my abilities and let me know when I wasn’t living up to my potential. Sometimes I agreed with her. Sometimes I wished she’d stop expecting so much of me. But I always knew she was right, that becoming a better person was an active decision. And that even if I continued to be stubborn and slough off in my school work or other areas of my life, she would still love me. I knew she would always be there for me.

I remember the night my boyfriend left. I was 18 and he was my first love, the first boy I had ever kissed. I was certain I would marry him, but first he needed to serve a 2 year mission for our church. It wasn’t a requirement, it was his own decision and one I had encouraged him in. But that didn’t make his leaving any less painful.

As we stood out on the lawn that final night in a tight embrace whispering our 10th good-bye, my mother stood inside the door waiting. A final tight squeeze as the tears filled my eyes and we separated. He had to run to his car to avoid being drawn back toward me and I had to run to the door to avoid the same. He started his cars ignition and waved at me with tears in his eyes as he drove away. I waved too and then broke into a sob as I fumbled to open the screen door. I flung it open and then jammed the weight of my body against the main door to push it open. As it swung open I saw the shape of my mom standing there, her arms pulling me to her. I was already sobbing so hard my head hurt. She guided me down the stairs, helped me crawl into her bed and tucked me in. Then she lay on the covers beside me and stroked my hair until I fell asleep. She was completely silent in word but her actions meant everything. Whether my pain was over dramatic or not, she knew how keenly I felt it and she didn’t try to stop that. She let me grieve hard while assuring me with only her presence and I’m forever thankful for that.

I love you mom. Happy Birthday.

Because I like to keep it real. *snicker* Or maybe I just like to embarrass myself.

Me: Yummy pizza honey. Thanks for making it
Boys: Thank you daddy!
*munch munch munch*
Hubby: BU-URP!
Me: *said with a slight smirk on my face - I thought you made a rule that there was no belching at the table.
Hubby: *with a twinkle in his eye - Oh, yeah.
Ethan: I have to go potty!
Me: Alright already, go.

* Hubby teases me as I eat, mischevious grin forms on my face*

Me: BE-ELLLLCCCCHHH!
*Chorus of laughter rings out from Ethan in the bathroom and Caleb at the table
Ethan: Burp. Burp. Burp.
* Caleb laughing
Ethan: I just tooted!!
Me: Thank you for the play by play of your bowel movement son. Really.
*munch munch munch from Caleb*
Caleb: Mama, you’re a chicken!
Me: Well you’re a chocolate cake!
Caleb: You’re a grass!
Me: You’re a Grape!
Caleb: You’re a ewephant!
Me: Well you’re a BE-LLCCCCHHHH!!!!
*Uncontainable laughter from both boys and one husband desperately trying to stifle it.
Ethan: More mom! More!!
Me: No, no, I’ve gotta stop. You’re father will never kiss me again if I don’t.

Some of our dinner times are more entertaining than others

I never thought a baby girl would be that much different from a baby boy. Well, excepting anatomy of course. But I’ve changed my mind since having one - we women are doomed from the start.

An initial emotion may be one of sadness or frustration, but she doesn’t let it stay at that. No, she goes for added volume just to be extra clear about what she’s feeling. She’s finally learned that throwing her body backwards and hitting her head on the floor when she’s mad does more harm than good - now she kicks her legs wildly instead. Or if she’s in my arms she kicks and flails and hyperventilates as well. It’s quite a display. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I want to cry and sometimes I want to cuddle her and say, “Yeah, some days I just want to throw myself on the floor and kick and scream and hyperventilate too.”

She’s like an over filled water balloon. Always on the verge of bursting. She’s not even a teenager yet! But the drama can only last so long and then it’s back to that 4 toothed grin that makes me melt. It’s back to the toddling/stumbling around the house while babbling that never fails to make me smile. Back to the intense concentration of trying to fit a square block into a round hole. The drama comes and goes but there’s always an Angel underneath that I can’t seem to get enough of.

 The types of events I imagined when I thought of interacting with my own children, before I had them, don’t come close to most of the events that have actually happened since they’ve arrived. My day dreams never involved such vast amounts of urine. In fact, they never involved urine at all. But now that I’ve got two boys, that’s a lot of what our interactions are about. Questions like, “Who sprinkled on the floor?” and “Who forgot to flush the toilet?” are asked frequently. I pretty much clean pee off the toilet and floor every day, once even off the top of the toilet, but yesterdays urine happening tops them all. Oh yes, are you ready for this?

Hubby, Ethan and Caleb were playing a game of Go Fish while I was busy getting Vanessa ready for her afternoon nap. After she drank her milk I laid her down in her crib and went into the kitchen to load the dishes. I could hear her softly whining and knew she was almost asleep. That ’s when Ethan leapt up announcing that he had to poop (yeah we’re working on getting him to stop announcing these things). No sooner had he entered the hall bathroom than Caleb leapt up announcing that he had to pee. I told him he would have to wait until his brother was finished. We have a bathroom in our bedroom but going in there when Vanessa is still awake and then leaving will throw her into a frenzy.

Caleb walked into the hallway and in a matter of seconds I heard his voice saying, “Mommy, I have to pee bad!” I recognized the urgency and knew I had to do something. I ran into the bathroom to find Ethan sitting on the toilet and Caleb with his pants around his ankles, holding himself and dancing. Thinking fast I told Ethan to scoot up just a bit so Caleb could pee into the toilet behind him. But I was too late. Caleb simply couldn’t hold it anymore. Suddenly pee was spraying in three different directions through Caleb fingers as he was still trying to “hold” it in. He was peeing on Ethan's butt, the floor and the counter top simultaneously.

Ethan jumped up screaming, I was screaming and shielding my face from the spray and pushing Caleb toward the toilet. None to soon he finished but barely any of it got in the toilet. I just stood stunned for a moment as I looked at my two bare bottomed boys. Both with pants around their ankles. Both soaked in urine. I moaned a bit as I took a sloshing step backward, but then I started laughing out loud as everything replayed in my head and the boys joined in. It was the strangest family bonding moment we’ve ever had. Boys!

Saturday’s are always busy for me. Today was no exception, and in fact it was even more busy than usual. I disinfected the bathroom, organized and deep cleaned the kitchen, cleaned the dining and living room and did three loads of laundry. I got an awful lot accomplished. That brings a nice feeling, but accomplishing those goals wasn’t the highlight of my day. The highlight of my day was taking a break and getting Angel girl ready for bed.

I sat with her in the recliner feeding her bites of cornbread. In between bites we played peek-a-boo and clapped our hands. Then she took the cornbread from my hand and decided to feed me instead. There I sat chuckling, as I nibbled on the slobbery cornbread she stuck in my mouth. Then, she gave me a kiss. A sweet, tiny pursed lip kiss with cornbread crumbs on the side. Then another one. And another one. I didn’t mind one bit. I loved every crumby kiss!

Because mine can. Which I discovered yesterday after he came to me clutching his chest, sobbing that he had.

I was skeptical for a moment, wondering if he really knew what he was saying. Besides, he had learned long ago ago not to put money or other non-food objects in his mouth. But then I remembered that childhood lessons are often learned through experience because parental council is ignored.

I pulled out a nickel, dime, penny and quarter and asked him to point the one he had swallowed. Yes, he pointed to the quarter and it was then that I called the doctor. I assumed she would tell me it would just pass on through and to not worry, instead she told me to take him to the ER immediately.

I grabbed the baby, called the hubby and took my kids out the door. I figured the situation was not immediately life threatening so was pretty calm until my 4 year old boy looked up at me and said with tears in his eyes, “Aw miss you.”

“What do you mean you’ll miss me?” I asked

“Cause I gonna died,” he said.

Yeah. I lost it.

“You are not going to die sweetie. You’ll be ok.” I said as we both cried.

Once at the hospital the ER staff was quick and friendly. They took an x-ray of Obi Wan’s tummy and we saw the quarter sitting in his tummy (darn that I didn’t have my camera on me to show you how big it looked in his little body). He thought that was very cool.

They made us walk around for another hour to make sure the quarter could move past the sphincter (which if it didn’t we would have been transferred to another hospital to have it removed using a scope).

Thankfully, the x-ray taken an hour later showed that the quarter had moved into his intestines. Upon being discharged the nurse explained what symptoms to watch for that would tell us if it got stuck, but she reassured us that it really ought to pass through fine and get pooped out in a couple of days. Upon hearing this Obi-Wan, in his high pitched loud voice yelled, “COME OUT IN MY POOP?!?!?!?!? Oh, I gotta go poop wight now!” A chorus of laughter could be heard from patients, nurses and doctors. Yeah, that’s my boy.

I can’t tell you how thankful I am he swallowed it whole instead of choking on it. Now I suppose it’s time to clean out the couches so he’s not tempted by anymore stray coins.

It was 85 degrees yesterday. EIGHTY FIVE. Of course we had to go out and enjoy the fine weather. So after picking Ethan up from school, we drove to our favorite playground. I settled down around the sand box where Ethan was playing. Then I encouraged Caleb to join his brother. Caleb whimpered sadly and shook his head. He sat down by me instead and I assumed he would go off and play soon enough. But he didn’t.

My conversation with a friend kept getting interrupted by, “Aaaagh!” and “No-ho-ho-ho-ho!” and “Eeeee!” followed by a cowering four year old clasping my arm or snuggling into me. I was so focused on conversing that I didn’t register his behavior in my head at first. Every time he made a noise I just kept telling him to shush or to go play. Finally it clicked and I wondered what all of his fussing was about and why he wasn’t playing.

“Caleb, what in the world is the matter?”
“I mee a go home!”
“No you don’t need to go home. Why are you squealing so much?”
“Aaaaagh! A bug! A bug!”
I shooed a little fly away from him
“Nohoooooo! Go away bee!”
“I shooed the fly away from him again.
“Are you flipping out because of the bugs?” I asked
“I no wike bugs mom.”

Well I guess that was my answer. I kept encouraging him to play but he wouldn’t leave my side. I had thought he wasn’t afraid of bugs anymore. Last Summer he was but then he seemed to get over it.

Oh.

Wait.

He didn’t get over it. The bugs just died. Now they’re back and Caleb is as afraid as ever. Combine that with his stubborn personality and no amount of coaxing could get him to leave my side for an instant. The constant squealing and whining was pretty darn annoying. I did have to laugh though when the whining that interrupted me at one point went like so,

“Mom, iss da big bad wofe. I scared a da big bad wofe.”
“Big bad wolf? What in the world do you mean?”
“Der mom, da big bad wofe.”

His little finger pointed toward a park bench where a huge husky sat panting in the shade of a tree, it’s owner holding the leash.

My boy is afraid of bugs and dogs and who knows what else and I don’t know what to do to help him get over it.

School would be out in 15 minutes. I had arrived early and pulled into a space facing my sons class. Only a moment later the school doors swung open and 30 or so kindergartners swarmed out onto the playground to savor a bit of the warm day, the first we’d had in a week.

I watched my little guy in his gray hoodie climbing the equipment, going down the slide and chasing friends around. After one particularly long chase that began with 6 kids, Ethan was the only one left in pursuit. I watched as he caught up to the boy in front of him. I watched as the boy turned around and shoved Ethan hard onto the ground.

I heard the driver side door click and then realized it was my hand on the handle, tense. I was ready to march on over to that offending child and give him a piece of my mind. But I stopped as rational thought took over instinct. I can’t be there to help him up every time he falls. I shouldn’t help him up every time he falls, even if I am there.

As I watched, Ethan stood up and went back to playing as if nothing had happened. I relaxed, thankful for his ability to shrug things off. Yet I was troubled as I realized this was only one of many painful experiences he would face in his life.

How many times will he face physical hurts? Emotional hurts? Will his heart get broken? Will he lose faith in the goodness of humanity? What wouldn’t I give to be able to shield all of my children from hurt and harm all the time?

But I can’t give them that. No one can.

A simple quote comes to mind:

Worry is like a rocking chair–it gives you something to do but it doesn’t get you anywhere.

Instead of worrying, I should be asking myself what I can give them to help them get through the painful tomorrows.

I have gotten by on faith. Faith that God exists, that he is aware of me personally. I have gotten by on love. The love of family and friends has buoyed me up in my darkest times. I have gotten by on others belief in me. Those who have expressed their belief in my ability to be better and do better and overcome hardship, has helped keep me going.

I can give them all of that. But even after I give them all I can to see them through, they will still be the ultimate deciders of their reactions toward what mortality hands them. I can only hope to set an example of patience and kindness that perhaps they will follow.

So much to work on personally, so much to teach, so overwhelming at times are the considerations of a mother.

Imagine the setting:

A McDonald’s in the inner city area. This equals a tiny parking lot that is always packed with cars and people. The drive thru line is long and I’m querying the boys for their orders before we reach the speaker. It’s fairly quiet in the car until I hear Count Dooku’s worried voice say, “Mom,when we get home can we change my pants cause I fink I peed a little in dem.”

My head wheels around and I reach into the back seat to feel his pants. If they are indeed wet it must be a very tiny spot. I breathe a small sigh of relief and then ask him the question with the obvious answer, “Do you have to pee?”

“Yes” he says in a small voice.

The car in front of us pulls ahead.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before we left the museum?”

“Cause I didn’t feel like der was pee yet, but all da sudden I feel da pee.”

I snicker a little and drive forward again and then he continues in an urgent voice as he grabs his pants, “I have to pee mom. I fink I’m going to pee in da car.”

“Oh no you won’t!” I say as I drive forward up to the speaker.

“Can I take your order?” says the voice over the speaker.

“Yeah, just a second,” I say loudly and then to Count Dooku in the back, “Unbuckle and climb into the front seat right now.”

He does so, still holding himself. The anxious look in his eyes has increased 10 fold and I’m flying through options in my brain as I blurt out our order.

“I’d like two four piece nuggets, two small fries and a hamburger,” and then to Count Dooku, “Ok, take your pants down a little buddy.”

Now what? Do I have him run across the way to the dumpster and pee behind there? No, that won’t work, I’d have to drive forward and he’d freak out thinking I was leaving him.

Do I open the door slightly and have him pee out onto the pavement? No, the folks in their cars behind us would see.

I pull forward again right as Count Dooku has finished pulling his pants down enough to pee. I realize that we’re driving up to the window and the cashier is going to see his naked nethers so I push him onto his naked bum and pull his coat down.

“Don’t move!” I warn him

“Your total is $6.64,” says the cashier. I hand her my credit card, she swipes it and hands it back. I pull up a little.

“I’m gonna peeeeeeeee!”

Crap! What to do? What to do? I’m ready to throw the door open and let him pee out of it when I see the 3/4 full water bottle on the floor. It’s got a rather narrow opening but it will work. I roll the window down and dump the water out.

We’re between the first and second window with one car in front of us when I tell Count Dooku to start peeing. I’m holding the steering wheel with my left hand, and the water bottle with my right. The car in front of us drives away. It’s my turn to pull up but Count Dooku is still peeing.

“Come on, come on!” I say. The lady at the second window is holding our bag out of the window beckoning me to pull forward. I’m looking right at her shrugging my shoulder and trying to clearly mouth, “One second.”
She shakes her head and closes the window. Count Dooku is still peeing. Finally he finishes up, hurriedly pulls his pants up and I drive forward after rolling the tightly sealed water bottle under the seat. The lady opens the window and thrusts the bag into my hands. Count Dooku is climbing into the back seat and buckling his belt.

“I really fot I was gonna pee in da car mom,” he says, the anxiousness in his voice gone.

“I’m so glad you didn’t son,” I say, “next time, remind me to make you pee before we go on a car ride, whether you think you need to or not.”

The Joint National Committee on Prevention, Detection, Evaluation, and Treatment of Mommy Brain announced its latest guidelines just yesterday, stating that “Not all Mommy Brain, is the same.”
This is only the first of hopefully many steps that will be taken to help treat Mommy Brain, which was officially diagnosed last Monday. But mothers have felt the symptoms and their families have experienced the effects of Mommy Brain for centuries.

“I knew something was different right after we came home from the hospital,” said Iam Spacey of the moment in which she put a soiled diaper in the laundry basket and the babies onesie in the trash.

“I knew something was wrong when I opened my lunch at work one day and found fruit roll ups and Lunchables inside,” said one tearful husband. “I mean, if you think I was devastated, consider our poor son who opened up his lunch at school to find a Turkey wrap and tomato juice. Our son doesn’t eat that kind of stuff. The poor kid came home starving!”

Others have reported similar experiences ranging from simple things like finding the milk in the cupboard and the cereal in the fridge to more serious events like the one that happened to Anita Nadvil of Orem Utah.

“All I wanted to do was be a good mom!” wailed Anita as she recounted the scary experience. “I was just trying to sanitize the binkies! I never would have forgotten about them if I didn’t have Mommy Brain!”
But Anita Nadvil did forget about the boiling binkies. When she emerged from the babies bedroom after a diaper change, the house was filled with haze and smelled of melting plastic. Luckily, quick thinking prevented disaster. She turned off the burner, then escorted her two children out of the house until the toxic fumes cleared out.

Yes Mommy Brain seems to be running rampant these days. For those who have already had children, there is no prevention. Some form of Mommy brain exists in all Mommy’s. Some women have decided not to have children in hopes of avoiding the condition, though this won’t guarantee against similar conditions arising. Even the most healthy of non-child bearing women come down with cases of absent mindedness or worse.

For victims of Mommy Brain there is no cure, but a good support network and a strong resolve can make a world of difference.

“I write notes to myself all the time,” says Anita Postit of Portland Oregon. “Like if I have to pay rent by a certain date, I stick a note saying so on my desk. Otherwise I forget.”

For some women, even that is not enough. One mother, wishing to stay anonymous because of the severity of her condition reports that she has to tape her rent or video rentals to the door in order to remember them before she goes out.

In spite of the differences in progression of Mommy Brain in all of the women mentioned in this article, they share one common thread – A good support system. Husbands who tease them and help them laugh at their Mommy Brain moments. Mother’s who sympathize and offer suggestions. Children who love them no matter what Mommy Brain moment they have next.

Of course not all victims of Mommy Brain have a good support system in their home and community, but more and more of them are finding support in an online community of mommy bloggers. These mommy bloggers are mother’s who are willing to share their Mommy Brain moments in order to help others going through the same thing to feel they are not alone. It has become a lifeline to some with severe cases.
“Reading stories from other Mommy Brain victims on the blogs is so great!” says Imjus Truthful. “It’s therapeutic to be able to laugh at the stories of mom’s who have it worse than you do.”

If you would like to donate to research for treatments and a cure for Mommy Brain call:
1-800-BRAINLS
Together, we can make great strides in helping victims of Mommy Brain around the world.

Yesterday, my baby Angel learned how to give kisses.

As I held her in front of me, I puckered my lips, made an “Mmmmmm” sound and gave her a little kiss on her open mouth. After doing this a couple of times I repeated the process except that I waited to see if she would give me the kiss. And she did!

As she saw my puckered lips and heard my “Mmmm” sound she pressed her open little mouth onto mine. And then she did it again and again, each time I tried it. And when daddy tried it, she gave him little open mouth kisses too.

This morning, the first thing I did was see if she remembered what she had learned yesterday. She did, and I was greeted with two little teeth pressed against my puckered lips.
I think baby kisses are the sweetest kind.

Sometimes, you just have one of those days.

You wake up aching from head to foot, sniffling and coughing. The throbbing in your head compounded by shouting little voices.

The husband is sick too and is leaving for work late and before noon has even arrived you’ve snapped at your him and your kids a few times. Then you have a miscommunication about who is supervising the kids during finger painting and both of you are astonished to emerge from where you had been, to see bright red foot prints on the carpet leading to the bathroom door.

Then there is more snapping about the poor communication and frustration as the husband has to leave for work and can’t help your aching self clean up the mess. The mess that is smeared over the entire table, two chairs and a good size section of carpet. The bright red mess that is now a rather visible pink reminder on the floor. Before scrubbing you put the children, who are also mostly red, into the shower.

You get things cleaned up just in time to hear moans of “I’m hungry!” and now it’s time to fix lunch. And when you open the fridge something catches the door. Knowing you probably shouldn’t, but impatient and already incredulous about things, you yank on the door to get the fridge open and the worcestershire sauce falls out, lid flies off and part of your kitchen floor is covered in brown liquid.

You shake your head and chuckle maniacally to yourself while sopping up the mess. “Of course!” you say, trying to laugh to keep the tears away.

Add to this that the baby won’t nap and has been screaming in her crib for the last half hour of cleaning and showering and cleaning again, and even laughing can’t keep the tears away.
After things have calmed down a bit, you get on the blog to write about it. Not for pity, but just to have other moms tell you that you’re not the only mother who has days where everything seems to combine against every ounce of patience you have. Right?