All I Needed

Just when I am at the end of my rope, I am shown the miracles I have in my three daughters. Just when I think I can take not one more fit, not one more mess, I am shown how truly blessed I am.

The last two weeks or so of school are always really busy and stressful. Add on top of that my husband's work schedule changing and having in laws here to help with childcare and Mrs. Eyebrows gets a little bit cranky. Okay, a lot cranky. Words come out of my mouth that my children will probably write on their homework assignments next year. Toys meet their untimely demise when they aren't picked up quickly enough. Windows are shut so neighbors can't hear mommy's nice words. I really think that the electric company and schools are in cahoots to get more money out of people who are parents. You see, we are forced to run our air conditioner much earlier than we should have to since we can't keep the windows open without being the crazy next door neighbors people talk about at block parties. Oh, and for the record, it isn't specifically having in laws here that makes me cranky. It's the change that causes the children to act up that makes me cranky. Please be clear here-I am eternally grateful for the help when we need it.

Busy schedules, all the volunteer stuff I sign up for at the beginning of the year when my attitude is one of positivity and excitement, field trips, sack lunches, and the sun's refusal to go down before 8:30 all amass in one great big stress ball that I throw at people as if in gym class.

After only two days of my children being out of school I was ready to sell them. I mean, like seriously put signs up with pictures of them while they're sleeping (this is when they look the most angelic) "Make an Offer". Then it happened. My 11 year old came home with a report card containing STRAIGHT A's. The foul mouthed kindergardener had a report card with the same equivalent. After months of what I thought to be unheard, unlearned teaching, my four year old writes a perfect capital "R" with sharpie marker on the back of one of our kitchen chairs.

Okay, so she wrote it on the back of a chair in sharpie marker. Not exactly where I would prefer, but that's what magic erasers are for. I am pleased to find she is able to write several other letters quite skillfully on paper too. Then she said, much to my humor, "I'm home schooled, isn't I?" Yes, yes you are. Our next lesson will be grammar. Right after I get this green marker off my oak chair...

The soon to be first grader hauled out some math flash cards and shows me that she can do ADDITION IN HER HEAD. I about fell off the couch. This was the moment when I realized what was happening. God was showing me the miracles He has given me in my children and how truly amazing they are. Just when I think I'm a bad mom for feeling like running away, He gives me the strength to go on. He shows me how important I am and how great they really are because of the work we, as parents, have done. And He also shows me that I can't do it without Him. You see, I had prayed for help during the weeks I was feeling so stressed out. I know our prayers are ALWAYS answered but I forget that at times. It might not be the way we think it will be or the way we want it to be, but they will be answered. All the amazing things about my kids sort of happened all at once. It was weird. But it took away my anger at them, my stress and my feelings of resentment were gone the second I realized what He was showing me. That's what I needed. It was all I needed.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. -2 Corinthians 12:9

Never leave a paper trail.

My kindergartner had her first note sent home from school this weekend. I had to compose myself in my bedroom before talking to her about it. It read as follows:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Eyebrows,

At the end of the day today as I was passing out papers, I noticed that Piper had written the word "butt" on two of her papers from Computer class and intended to give them to two of her friends. When I asked her why she wrote this on her papers, she said she learned that word from the movie "Despicable Me." We talked about how that is not an appropriate word to use in school. She visited with Mrs. Principal and Mr. Computer. Thank you for visiting with her for me at home.

Since this did not occur in the classroom, if you have any questions or need further explanation, please contact Mr. Computer.

Thank you!

Mrs. Kindergarten

Ok, obviously I've renamed some people. Included with this letter were two pictures she had made and, in fact, written the word "butt" on in crayon. One picture did look like minion butt cheeks from the movie where the minions are making photo copies of their butts. I'm willing to argue however that my child did not, in fact, learn the word "butt" from "Despicable Me".

When I found the letter, Piper saw that I had found it and ran to her room crying, "I didn't mean to!" After taking the time to compose my own laughter, my husband and I went to talk to her. She was under her covers crying. She definitely will not be writing the word "butt" on any school papers again, poor thing. We talked about how it's not appropriate and then told her about her older sister's notes that were sent home from school in the past. Her older sister was there to confirm our story and she helped us to make Piper feel better. Seriously, if writing "butt" on a couple papers is the worst thing she ever does, I'm a proud mom.

I'm keeping the letter and the pictures to someday show to her future husband or display with her graduation pictures.

We were watching a nature show about monkeys a day later and somehow it came about that monkeys are known for throwing poop.

"I would like a pet monkey mom, but since they throw poop, I can't have one, right?" She asked me later that night.

"Right. Please don't share your monkey knowledge at school though, okay Piper?"

"Okay mommy." She smiled at me knowingly.

There are 21 school days left. I hope we can make it.

And the Award Goes To...

Before I give my acceptance speech, I feel the need to explain myself. I didn't even think about the fact that it was Monday today because the weekend was so full of craziness, I just went with the flow. And really, it started off okay in the beginning, it really did. I faced my weekly grocery shopping trip with bravery and gusto and I wasn't even ashamed to be seen in public with my youngest child and her fashion sense(less). The two of us set off in search of household sundries and grocery items with hope in our hearts and reusable bags in our hands. Then it hit me. Somewhere between my house and Target it dawned on me that I had forgotten to send 12 plastic eggs and 3 dimes to school with my kindergartner.

"Mommy, we can't forget to get my eggs and my dimes for school for our project. Jesus was sold for 30 pieces of silver's why we have to bring 3 dimes and I don't know what the eggs are for but we have to put the dimes into one of them." She had reminded me on Saturday morning as we headed out of town for the weekend. I promised her we would stop and get the eggs on the way back into town. I forgot.

I started bawling upon realizing my neglect and suddenly it occurred to me that I AM THE WORST MOMMY EVER. I have never been up for such a big award! This would have to put me into the front running! I pictured my springy haired 5 year old at school, having a melt down of epic proportions and her teacher, shaking her head and tsking, marking my name off on her voting ballot.

My mood went from slightly positive to ginormously negative in 0.2 seconds. But by some miracle the tiny 'raptor and I managed to get the shopping done without any major breakdowns or blowups and we went to get the other minions from school.

My kindergartner came running out and greeted me with a giant hug. I could feel the tears welling up again. I fought them back and profusely apologized for my forgetfulness. I was forgiven and kissed and we stood in wait for the eldest raptor. And we waited. And waited. My stomach began to knot up and I could feel the tickling in my sinuses that usually precedes a tearful explosion. The 5th graders had gone to another school for band practice...was I supposed to have picked her up at that school? OH I HAVE THIS AWARD IN THE BAG NOW!!! Another mother came up beside me and asked how I was. Well...since you asked....But she was my saving grace! She knew the 5th graders had come back already. Turned out my 5th grader has classroom duty this week. Phew. Crisis averted, children gathered and off to the van we went.

We were blessed this year with the purchase of a new used Toyota Sienna minivan with automatic sliding doors. The children delight in "pushing the button" to close their doors when they get in or out. Yay for all things mechanical! In my haste to get the kids buckled in and groceries home, I failed to notice that the youngest raptor had pushed her button and suddenly I was being shoved over by an automatic sliding door, slowly squeezed to certain flatness. I flailed around and pressed the button again, releasing the door's hold on my midsection. This is where I cinched up my title as "Worst Mommy Ever". I unleashed a tirade on the poor four year old, chewing her out for nearly crushing me. She, in turn, let loose a scream that only dogs could hear. Well, dogs and apparently the two teachers getting into their vehicle next to ours. I saw them get out their ballots and cast their votes just as I was pulling out of the parking lot.

So, without further ado, I would like to thank The Academy, without which this award would not be possible. I would like to thank the 'raptors, for without them I would not be a mommy and lastly I would like to thank my failing brain and apparent PMS for allowing the final breakdown that put this award in my hands. Thank you! Thank you all!

Worthy of Stephen King

After an excruciating trip to the grocery store with three Velociraptors disguised as my children, I made the impostors earn their keep by cleaning the house.

My eldest daughter's cleaning territory was her bathroom. She scrubbed the toilet, the sink, the counter and the mirror, hopefully not in that order. Soon after she finished her task, she decided the loose tooth that had been plaguing her had to come out. She yanked out a loose canine last night, and informed me that it's soon time for braces.

Tonight, it was a molar. Two teeth in one weekend is a new record for our family and I have decided that I need to go out and check the back field for glowing alien space craft. The Tommyknockers are coming. I don't care if my kid IS taken over by alien entities. I don't like dirty sinks and the Crocodile Dentist had to redo her scrub job, much to her dismay.

I also very much dislike pulling loose teeth, and am appreciative of the aliens and the work they do.

Pasta anyone?

I fear that I am unable to make one of the families favorite dinners anymore. We all love baked ravioli and there is never much left over when I fix it. Big bag of frozen ravioli. Check. Big jar of marinara sauce. Check. Big bag of shredded mozzarella cheese. Check. Bake it and eat it. Check. Can't get any simpler than that. Right? Well, if I take into consideration the clean up involved after a four year old projectile vomits pasta chunks all over, I'm going to have to take this one off the "easy" list.

I knew it was coming, there is a groaning and whining sound that precedes the vomit. I had her on the couch, which I had protected with towels, and a bucket at the ready. I still wasn't ready for it when it happened, and she managed to coat her jammies, her hair and most of the towel I had laid down. But let me tell you about talent. The kind of talent only a mother of three has. I can hold a puke bucket and call my husband at the same time.

Why would I call my poor husband, while he's on duty, to come home and help with a tiny Linda Blair?

"Hey, we are at threat level Exorcist here, can you come home an help me please? Since you JINXED ME?" I didn't even give him a chance to answer before I tossed my phone out of firing range.

You see, earlier in the evening during supper, he had been talking to our oldest about her morning tirade. Her complaint was that she was SO TIRED from her younger sister keeping her up with her crying the night before. He pointed out to her that there would probably be other nights she wouldn't get ideal sleep. What if she had an activity that kept her up late or WHAT IF ONE OF HER SISTERS WAS UP ALL NIGHT THROWING UP?

As soon as the tiny one started groaning and complaining that her belly hurt, I knew I had been jinxed. It's always me. I am always the one being puked on, cleaning up puke, or holding the puke bucket. When the Universe handed out jobs, I got "puke monger". Some people are destined to be pooped on by every bird that flies over them. Some people are destined to step in every animal land mine they walk near. Me, I'm a puke magnet.

So, I guess I need to come to terms with my lot in life. Not a lot I can do about it except for maybe get a young priest and an old priest and hope for the best.

SOMEBODY has a case of the Mondays!

What do you do when your computer takes a big, fat crap? You cry like a bit, fat baby, that's what. By some stroke of luck my husband decided to back up our photos, all 8,000 + of them, on a SD card. This was about three weeks ago. Had I realized it was a foreshadowing of events, I would have had him back up my thousands of iTunes songs. This makes me sad and snivelly and I can't even listen to depressing music to match my mood.

This brings us down to a seven year old iBook. The keyboard smells like B.O. and feet and most of the websites I frequent don't work with it. I am so excited to have some new followers and comments on my blog and I can't even comment back because the smelly dinosaur laptop hates me and wants to ruin my life. Which brings me to my morning.

I was informed this morning, without prejudice, that I am the most hated and worst mother ever. Oh, and death was wished upon my person. All before 7:30am. Now I am mad and I can't even listen to death metal music to match my mood.

Now the angst-ridden tween is grounded, without prejudice, the computer is apart and my world is devoid of music. And it's only Monday!

Just one more minute...

I did not set my alarm clock this morning. Two days a week I take pleasure in NOT having to get up for anything in particular. Eight o'clock is my "sleep in" goal, since I live with three children who think sleep is merely an inconvenient thing I make them do. Their motto is the equivalent of "Are we there yet?" when it comes to sleep. They pop out of bed, "Can we be awake now?", at the most God-awful of hours. ONLY ON THE WEEKEND mind you. During the week, when I am up at the crack o' dawn, and they need to be up shortly thereafter, they are out cold, like they're sleeping off a Nyquil induced coma. It's actually crossed my mind to lie to them about what day it is to keep them in bed. Either that or actually GIVE them NyQuil....

BANG BANG BANG BANG was my alarm this morning at 7:15. My husband pulled off his Darth Vadar breathing mask and went to the door, unlocking it. (We lock our doors to keep the human octopus that is our four year old out of our bed.) Our soon-to-be six year old was at the door, frantic. "I CAN'T SMELL ANYTHING WITH MY NOSE!!" As opposed to your ears? She wanted nothing more than to inform us of her mucous-ridden nasal passages.

We got another 30 minutes of sleep before demands for sustenance were being made by the octopus. Seriously kid, bears don't eat all winter. Wanna know why? CUZ THEY'RE STILL SLEEPING.