Christmas Has Left Me in Pieces

I love Christmas.  Christmas decorations, Christmas songs, Christmas trees, Christmas morning.  Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.  I love it all.

But this year, Christmas has left me in pieces.

Hundreds of them.  Thousands of them.  Millions of them.

They are everywhere.

Playmobil pieces, Lego bricks, magnet dress up sets, craft kits...you name it, it's spread from one end of our house to the other.

To make matters worse, it appears as though the more pieces a toy has, the more my children love to play with it.  Everywhere.  In every room of the house.  Which of course means that of that 384-piece toy my kids love, those 384 pieces will never again all be in the same room, let alone bucket, basket or handy storage container that came with said toy again.  Ever.  

I enter the following photographs into evidence.  I take full responsibility, as many of these gifts were supplied by my very own hands.  Please note, none of these photos have been staged or altered in anyway.  This is just my real, live, post-Christmas house.  Don't judge.

Exhibit A: Angry Birds Pirate Ship

This game works just like the app.  You're supposed to build a pirate ship, complete with pigs nestled in random nooks and crannies, then send the Angry Bird (on overturned car picture above) up the ramp to knock it down.  Here is the problem.  It's supposed to break down easily, which means it pretty much breaks every time we try to set it up.  Hence the pile of pieces on the living room floor.  Thanks, Santa.

Exhibit B:  Art Kit

This picture does not do this art kit justice.  It came with stamps, stickers, paint, more stickers, crayons, markers, foam pieces, and more stickers.  Pieces.

Please note the handy dandy storage container next to the crayons and markers.  Quite effective, isn't it?  Yes, Santa, thanks again.

Exhibit C: Calico Critters Schoolhouse

Just imagine every single, little piece a mouse would need for school.  Books, pencils, desks, even a graduation cap and gown.  Yup, it's all there.  All of it.  

Exhibit D: Fire Truck Play Set

Apparently, this toy company was not satisfied with merely a fire truck.  Absolutely not.  It needed to add some more pieces...like 42 street signs, some random cans and portions of the truck that can be removed.  It's almost like the fire already happened, and just left a path of destruction behind.  

Exhibit E: Legos

This is only the tip of the iceberg.  It represents about 1/100 of the Lego pieces we now have in our house, after all the Legos my kids received for Christmas this year have now combined with the Legos that were already in our house.  I think they've been somehow secretly reproducing at night.  

(Honestly, what I love most about this picture is that the Legos are in my daughter's room, on her night stand.  Like it was the very last thing she did before dozing off to sleep.)

Exhibit F: Nativity Set

Baby Jesus, I love you.  I really, really love you.  And I love your birthday.  But even your set up comes with pieces, pieces and more pieces!

Exhibit G: Reindeer Bead Kit

This one takes the cake.  Right there on the package, it boasts '225 beads,' like it's a good thing.  225 beads.  225 pieces.  All over my kitchen floor, about 14 different times over Christmas vacation, as my kids loved to start this project and still have yet to complete it.  

And just for good measure...

Some rogue Playmobil Knights, planning their next attack from under my son's bed.

Learning to Love the Little Pieces

Even though this Christmas has left me in pieces, there is a little part of me that actually loves it, just a little bit.  

(That part would not be my feet.  They hate it.  They have stepped on just about every type of teeny tiny toy possible in the last 10 days.)  

The part of me that loves it, loves it because all those millions of pieces all over my house actually mean some pretty great things.  

It means that my kids are playing.  Even better, they are playing with each other.

It means that they are using their imaginations.

It means that in order to leave those piles of pieces behind, they had to not be parked in front of a TV screen, a computer screen or an iPad screen.

It means that there are lots and lots of people in my kids' lives that love them, and give them lots of things with lots of little pieces.

It means that my kids are still kids, and they still love to play with toys.

It means that these memories of millions of little tiny pieces all over the place are mine.  All mine.  They can never be taken away.  Even when my kids have outgrown toys for electronic devices; even when they're out with their friends more than home with me; even when they're off at college and not living here at home with me.  I will think back to these memories of millions of pieces. 

And that, without a doubt, will leave me in pieces.  

No matter how many pieces are strewn throughout your house at any given moment, You Are a Good Mom.

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A Messy, Fun Fourth

How was my 4th of July, you ask?  This photograph, ladies and gentlemen, will answer that question:  

Filled with messes, and therefore, filled with fun!

If you read my 4th of July post, you recognize this shirt, only then it was in a much cleaner state.  I took the picture above earlier today just before throwing my daughter's shirt in the washing machine.  

The picture doesn't quite do the real thing justice.  

It was completely covered in who-knows-what from top to bottom.  I tried to figure out what a couple of the stains were but gave up after retracing her steps from the day.

Some of the places she may have acquired her 4th of July stains included...

• A breakfast of drippy yogurt and juicy blueberries and raspberries
• Half-frozen Popsicles and endless sticky candy that she gathered at the parade
• Sunscreen we slathered on her as she watched her cousins play in a 3-on-3 tournament
• BBQ meatballs or chip dip she snacked on before jumping in her aunt and uncle's pool
• Baked beans she scarfed down or the ketchup and mustard she licked off her hot dog at dinner
• Any of the 4 brownies she ate for dessert
• The Capri Sun she sipped on doing sparklers and watching fireworks before she finally collapsed in bed around 11:00pm

A day filled with food, family and fun...and lots of reasons to be messy!  

When "Clean" Isn't All It's Cracked Up to Be

I remember a time when I was a relatively new mom and I tried to keep my son "clean."  His clothes.  His hands.  His car seat.  And then I realized that I could spend every waking minute of every day trying to keep him clean, and I would be doing just that: trying.  Getting him clean was one thing.  Keeping him clean for more than 7 minutes was an entirely different thing.  

It would never ever happen.  Ever.  

It was then I figured out that I could spend my time trying to achieve the impossible, and drive myself completely crazy and miss out on enjoying all the fun moments that come with the mess, all the while preventing my son from actually having any real kid fun or just simply being a kid.  Or I could not worry so much about the mess and instead focus on the fun that usually came during the creation of the mess.

This has become the mantra around our house:  "If you're messy, it means you're having fun."  

This is for me as much as it is for my kids.  It always makes them laugh when we say it, and when I hear their giggles, it helps put the mess in perspective for me.  So far, every mess we've encountered has been able to be cleaned up.  Sometimes it takes a little elbow grease or a few more cycles through the washing machine, but in the long run, the fun had making the mess was well worth it.

This shirt and our 4th of July fun yesterday were no exception.  

I know there will come a day when my daughter has a fun-filled 4th of July, and the only way I'll have any proof of it will be through the stories she tells me and the memories I have of the day.  There will be no messes left behind on her 4th of July shirt.  

I fear that day will come all too soon, so for now, I'll take a shirt covered with food, sunscreen and whatever else she got into, and treasure it for just a few extra minutes before I throw it in the washing machine.  For the second time.

Don't worry.  Messy kids are usually happy kids, and that means You Are a Good Mom.  

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"Parent"dox: If You Clean It, They Will Dirty It

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #15:  If You Clean It, They Will Dirty It

This "parent"dox is not incredibly clever or witty or insightful.  (Just setting the bar low and giving you an easy out if you're not up for reading this entire post.)

It is this simple truth:  If you clean it, they will dirty it.

To elaborate upon it a bit further:

If you have cleaned it, it will get dirty.  Soon.

If it is already dirty, it will not get any dirtier.  It will remain at that level of dirtiness from now until the end of time.  That is, of course, until you actually clean it.  (When it has been cleaned, please see the above statement.)

Two recent incidents in my house have made this amply clear.  

Warning: They both involve bodily fluids.  Fear not.  You're a Mom.  I know you can handle it.

Sheets, Sheets and More Sheets
Washing sheets always seems like such a big job to me for some reason.  

First, there is the taking off of the sheets.  In my house, that means one bed that has bed rails on both sides and one bed that is part of bunk beds.  Neither of these are extremely easy tasks.  Next, there is the washing of the sheets, and the remembering to move the sheets from the washer to the dryer.  Then comes my least favorite step in this whole process, which is putting the sheets back on the bed.  Remember the bed rails and bunk bed thing from step one?  Doubly un-fun when it comes to putting the sheets back on those beds.  

Here's where it gets complicated, though.  I need to complete all 3 of these steps within a reasonable amount of time, meaning after my children wake up in the morning and before they have rest time in the afternoon OR after rest time and before bed time.  This puts a bit of a time crunch on things and does not leave much wiggle room for distraction or forgetfulness on my part.  

You should know, both of these things run rampant in my world.  

I know what you're thinking.  Take one set of sheets off, wash them, and while set one is washing, put a second, different set of sheets on the bed.  I know, I know.  But here's the thing.  Then I'm actually going to have to unfold a perfectly (well, not perfectly, but you get the picture) set of folded sheets, and even worse, I'm going to have to now fold the sheets that come out of the dryer.  This is creating an entirely new step of work that can avoided with just putting the sheets from the dryer right on the bed.  

I'm all about efficiency.  Or laziness.  It's your call.

(Those of you with more than 3 sets of bedding to regularly wash or actual top bunk beds you have to change bedding on, God Bless You.  I mean that from the bottom of my heart.  God.  Bless.  You.)

I remember watching an episode of Oprah a few years back and she made a comment about how she liked to have new sheets every other day, because the first day they felt clean and the second day they felt OK, but by the third day they felt used and like they needed to be changed.

I love Oprah.  I really do. 

But every other day?  

I would absolutely love to hang out with Oprah and having her spend the night at my house would be beyond amazing.  But after watching that episode, I learned I'd have to ask her to leave after the second night because the sheets at my house will never be changed every other day.  Never.  As in ever.  As in even for Oprah.

In theory, I wash the sheets once a week.  In reality, I get to it every other week.  In times of desperation, it's more than two weeks and I am not going on record as admitting how long that can be.  Please don't judge.

(This has turned into a super long back story on the deep, underlying issues I apparently have with washing bedding.  There is a point to all this rambling.  Somewhere.)

It had been one of those "times of desperation" in our house as far as washing bedding goes.  During that entire undisclosed amount of time, all was good with all things bedding related, including any type of night time bodily fluid incidents from either of my children.  

I finally got around to washing all 3 sets of bedding and got them back on all 3 beds just before bedtime.  I was actually feeling pretty accomplished and glad to have that unfavorable task completed.  

Unfortunately, you already know where this is going.

In the wee hours of the morning (emphasis on wee), I heard the all-too-familiar cry from my son's bedroom that I knew instantly as the "I had a accident because I was sleeping so soundly" cry of shock, fear, embarrassment and uncomfortable-ness all rolled into one. 

So yeah, those sheets were clean for a good 6 hours before I was washing them again.  

Days and days and days and days and days of being dirty?  Nothing.  One night of being clean?  I should have known that would be an accident-filled night.

Cute Monkey Bath Mat
You now know about how much I despise the whole process that is washing sheets.  You'll be relieved to know I do not have such a relationship with bath mats and bathroom rugs.  I actually don't mind that task, because it's fairly easy and straightforward.  However, you should know, I get to washing those mats and rugs even less frequently than I wash sheets.

The other day, my kids got paint on the cute monkey bath mat in their bathroom.  (Don't even ask...that is another story for another day.  Remind me at some point and I'll tell you.)  Not a big deal.  As I put both of my paint-covered children in the bathtub, I tossed the cute monkey bath mat right into the washing machine.  

After air drying for the rest of the day, I put it back in their bathroom just after my kids had finished their bedtime routine of brushing teeth and going to the bathroom.  It was actually not even totally dry, but it was close enough and I wanted to put the drying rack away before bed and check that off my list, so there you go.

I went downstairs, and before long, I could hear the pitter patter of little feet and a "Mommy!"  I went upstairs to find my 3-year-old standing on the cute, clean, not-even-dry-from-the-washing-machine-yet monkey rug.  She looked up at me with her big blue eyes and said "I didn't make it!"

So close.  So very close.  She tried to get from her bed to the potty, but as she said, she didn't make it.  Needless to say, the damp bath mat was just a little bit more damp at this point from her contribution.  

It had been clean.  For one entire hour.  And back into the washing machine it goes.

Such is life when you're living in a "parent"dox.  But you know what?  I wouldn't change that for anything.

You Are a Good Mom because you keep on washing stuff, even though you know it's just going to get dirty before the day ends anyway.  Keep at it, Mom, keep at it.

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If you Give a Mom a Vacuum

If you're a Mom, chances are good you've read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Numeroff to your kids once or twice or 127 times.  

It dawned on me the other day that I live out the plot of this book each and every time I try to vacuum my house.  Here is my attempt at how I think the Mom's version of this book would go.

If You Give a Mom a Vacuum

If you give a Mom a vacuum, she's going to take it to her son's room to get started on the seemingly simply task of vacuuming the house.  She'll see Legos, books, toy planes, pajamas and every size and shape of stuffed animal covering the floor.  

Before she can vacuum, she'll have to dig down through the layers of debris to see if there really still is carpet underneath it all.  She'll start by picking up the Legos, and she'll have to walk into the living room to put them away.  

When she walks into the living room to put them away, she spot a half-empty sippy cup.  She'll walk over to the sippy cup and smell it to see if anything has grown or fermented inside of it.  When she doesn't pass out from sniffing it because it only contained water, she'll decide to take the sippy cup into the kitchen to put it in the dishwasher.

As she opens the dishwasher, she'll notice it is full of clean dishes.  So she'll begin to empty the clean dishes out of the dishwasher.  She'll want to put the still-wet Tupperware containers on a kitchen towel to air dry, so she'll bend down to open the kitchen towel drawer.  When she opens the drawer, she'll notice that the drawer is completely empty.

This will remind her she needs to wash the load of dirty towels sitting in the hamper.  She'll walk into the closet to grab the basket of towels to throw in the washing machine.  Before she starts the load, she'll want to gather the remaining dirty towels  and washcloths out of the bathrooms.  

When she goes into the bathroom to grab the towels, she'll notice all the stuff sitting out on the counter.  She'll put all the bottles and tubes and jars and toothbrushes away.  As she turns to leave, she'll notice an empty cardboard tube where a full roll of toilet paper once used to be.  She'll reach under the sink to grab a new roll of toilet paper, but there won't be any there, either.

Next, she'll walk out to the closet to grab a few more rolls of toilet paper to put in all the bathrooms.  She'll spot the paper towel in the back of the closet, and this will remind her to put more paper towel in the kitchen, too.  

Once she walks into the kitchen to put the paper towel on the counter, she'll see 47 pairs of shoes by the kitchen door that leads to the garage.  She'll grab the shoes, and head back to her kids' bedrooms to put them away in their closets.

When she gets to her son's closet, she'll see the vacuum in the middle of his bedroom.  She'll see that it has yet to be plugged in, and that will probably remind her she was going to vacuum his room...if she can ever find the carpet in there.

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Call it productive procrastination.  Call it "Give a Mouse a Cookie Syndrome."  Call it attempting to clean while there are real live children living in the space you are attempting to clean.  

No matter what you call it, this little parody pretty much sums up why I rarely see any task all the way through to completion at my house.  It seems like everything is always started, but nothing is ever finished.  I have a hunch Laura Numeroff was simply trying to vacuum her kid's room when this whole "Give a Mouse a Cookie" idea came to her.  

Even when your attempts to complete any task get de-railed by the millions of other tasks and distractions awaiting you, You Are a Good Mom.

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Who Says a Washing Machine is Just for Clothes?

Things I Have Pulled Out of my Washing Machine or Dryer Since Becoming a Mom

1. broccoli
2. a wide variety of combinations of change  (The upside of this is unanticipated pennies for pony rides at Meijer for my kids and quarters for my husband to feed the parking meter when he goes to his grad classes.)
3. a Lego
4. guitar picks
5. mailing labels that my daughter had been playing with and stuck all over her pajamas while wearing them  (Those labels are now pretty much permanently glued to those pajamas.)
6. ear buds 
7. a clean pull up (which now happens to be a very clean pull up...)

#7 was most definitely the worst.  And the most recent.  As in it happened two days ago.  

Please hear me loud and clear on this one:  Do NOT try this at home.  

I opened my washing machine to find lots of little gel "crystals" on everything.  EVERYTHING.  As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was and I knew it was not good.  I immediately pictured my daughter putting her own clothes in her hamper.  While it is exciting to watch my children grow up and  become more independent and self-sufficient, it is not exciting when it results in a complete and total mess.  

(All you parents out there know that for independence to be achieved, a complete and total mess is pretty much necessary.  Case in point: learning to pour juice.  I rest my case.) 

Unfortunately, this time around, being independent also involved a clean pull up being tucked inside her jeans as she tossed them in her hamper.  I mistakenly dumped the entire hamper into the washing machine without paying too much attention to the contents.  Guess who will be checking every single pair of pants that goes from her hamper into my washing machine from here on out?  Add that to my "Weird Stuff I Do Now That I'm a Mom" list.  

Just in case you ever find yourself in this same unfortunate position, here was my plan of attack that proved to be fairly successful.

1. Throw your gelified clothes from your washer into your dryer.  
2. Run the "clean washer" cycle in your washing machine using one of those over-sized Alka Seltzer cleaning tablet things.  
3. Dry your gel-covered clothes.  
4. The gel will all clump together and form a strange science experiment which could win you a science fair blue ribbon, as you've just discovered a new state of matter.  
5. Washer is clean.  Clothes are gel-free.  All is right with the world again.  

I'm sure you can find that entire process out there on Pinterest somewhere...complete with pictures and a recipe for homemade over-sized Alka Seltzer cleaning tablet things.

Please do not ask what I've found in my dishwasher.  Yesterday I opened it up to find a Dora the Explorer Band-Aid.  Really?  A Band-Aid?  How on earth did a Band-Aid make it into my dishwasher?  I cannot make this stuff up, people.  I wish I was, but alas, this is just the craziness that is my life.  

When emptying the contents of your washer or dryer (or dishwasher around here...) is an adventure, You Are a Good Mom. 

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Until I Became a Mom

There were a lot of things I thought I knew about being a Mom before I became a Mom.  But come to find out, there were actually a lot of things I didn't know -- things no one could have just "told" me; things I had to experience for myself -- until I became a Mom.

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...I'd run a full dishwasher on a daily basis.

...it would become commonplace to remove boogers from someone's nose other than my own.

...so many of my conversations would be about poop or pee...when, how much, what color...

..."nap time" would be the two sweetest words my tired ears could hope to hear.

...I'd keep my 2-year-old company by sitting on the bathroom floor and reading her books as she sat on the potty, and I'd actually be excited that day had arrived.  

...my decisions would carry such weight; not just for me, but for my children and my family, too.

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...the theme song from "Wonder Pets" and "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" would be sung nearly 'round the clock in my house...frequently, by me.

...just how difficult, yet important, carving out time for myself; time with my husband; time with my girlfriends would be in maintaining my own sanity.

...I'd hear my mother's words coming out of my own mouth.

...I would spend the night in a steam-filled bathroom with my croupy 4-year-old to make sure he could breathe, and I'd be full of worry and compassion, not frustration and impatience.

...there would permanently be Cheerios or graham cracker crumbs in some part of my house or car at any given time.

...I would want so badly to  be able to take someone else's pain away and make it my own.

...the laundry would never, ever be "done" again.

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...I would purposefully take the "long way" home, based on the sliver of hope that the extra time in the car would get my infant to fall asleep.

...I'd be able to have my heart nearly burst with love and adoration, just watching someone sleep.

...I could be out-negotiated and out-stubborned by a toddler.

...reading the words "I love you, Mom" in preschooler script could completely melt my heart.

...that 7:00am would now be considered "sleeping in."

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...sometimes just taking a shower would be a victory for the day.

...I would laugh out loud everyday, just from the things my kids would say and do.

...I'd be wearing maternity clothes long after that baby was here and in my arms.   

...that Popsicles and Band-Aids can fix just about anything.

...how hard it would be, how rewarding it would be, how exhausting it would be, how amazing it would be and how nothing else on earth could truly prepare me for all that it meant to answer to the title of "Mom."

Until I became a Mom, I didn't know...

...a piece of my heart would now forever live outside of me.

Until I became a Mom, I had no idea just how precious those words -- You Are a Good Mom -- would be, and how I would carry them with me long after hearing them.  I didn't know how much I'd need to hear them, to remind myself of them, especially in the moments when I least felt like I was living up to them.  

Whether you are desperately in of need them today, or they are just a happy reminder, from the very bottom of my heart to yours, please know You Are a Good Mom.

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What things did you not know until you became a Mom (or Dad)?  Write in the "post a comment" box below, or click on "# comments" and a comment box to write in will open so you can add yours to the list.  Thanks so much for taking the time to share! (Feel free to share any other thoughts, feelings or reactions to this post, too!)

"Parent"dox: Clean Shirts Mean Messy Days

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #4: Clean Shirts Mean Messy Days

I've told my kids time and time again, "If you're messy, it means you're having fun!"  So much so that they now repeat this phrase back to me.  

And boy do my kids know how to have fun...

But why is it that whenever I put my kids in old, already stained clothes, they are able to have an entirely spotless day?  It is truly some sort of unexplained miracle that they can go a day without encountering some form of food splatter, paint splatter or mud splatter, but the "old clothes" days are without fail the days when they can pull it off.  The second, however, I put them in anything new or anything white, stains and messes are literally drawn to them like moths to the flame.

I should no longer be surprised by this.  You would think I would learn, but alas, I have not.

White shirt for my son?  Guaranteed he will be finger painting at preschool that day.

New shirt for my daughter?  She will be inevitably wearing spaghetti sauce by the end of the night.  And we won't even have had spaghetti that day... 

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you the photographic evidence below.  The other night I looked at both my kids shirts after they whipped them off to get their PJs on, and stumbled into this "parent"dox.  I snapped a quick pic before spraying them down with half a bottle of OxiClean and tossing them in the washing machine.  (The clothes...not the kids...)

Exhibit A: My 4-year-old son's shirt.  Please note that the ONLY part of the shirt that is at all dirty are the white sleeves.  

Exhibit B:  My 2-year-old daughter's shirt.  It is both white and new.  Double whammy.  It is covered in God knows what.  

Yes, Aunt Kaite, I know these are both Christmas gifts from you and Uncle Brian...which is part of the "parent"dox.  I will do my very best to OxiClean them to death and bring them back to (or close to) their original grandeur.  The silver lining?  If I can't get the stains out, it simply means they will never spill on them again.  Ever.  

The second they are stained beyond repair, they will somehow grow a kind of "Already Stained Scotchguard" layer.  Jelly will never dribble out of a PB & J sandwich smack dab in the middle of the shirt.  In some crazy shift of gravity for 2.3 seconds, it will undoubtedly actually fall to the plate below.  An art project at school will never happen while wearing said shirt.  Even if it was planned, the teacher will run out of time that day, and have to do it another day...when a new and/or white shirt is being worn.

Dreft, OxiClean, Tide, All, Clorox, Shout, Spray 'n Wash...you are well-versed in them all, and You Are a Good Mom.  

My Own Personal Lost and Found

I admit it.  I tend to lose things.

My keys.  My wallet.  My patience.  One shoe at a Jimmy Buffet concert.  My passwords for just about everything.  My dry cleaning claim slip for my son's comforter.  My perspective.

That last one is probably the one I struggle with most.  I, admittedly, am also a "sweat-er of the small stuff."  I don't mean to be, and I try really hard not to be, but it seems to be one of those things that continually pops up in my life.  One of those life lessons that keeps presenting itself over and over, most likely because I haven't learned it yet.  Whether it's a pop quiz or a full blown exam, I generally fail.  Miserably.  

I worry about the mess.  I get frustrated with being late.  I see the short-term loss instead of the long-term gain.

Photo Opp...
In an attempt to document the "small stuff" I tend to sweat, and provide a visual reminder for myself to stop and find perspective, I decided to take some pictures.  Over the last week or so, whenever I found myself getting upset or frustrated about "small stuff" at home, I tried to remember to grab my camera and snap a quick picture.  

So, feast your eyes and enjoy the mess that is my house in the pictures below.  I've added my own little "perspective caption" for myself, too.  Hopefully I can use this as a cheat sheet on my next test...

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I will be thankful for the lotiony fingerprints on the mirror, because it means I had a 2-year-old beauty "helping" me get ready for the day.

I will smile at the piles of books, because it means I have kiddos who are hopefully beginning to fall in love with the written word and will return to books again and again throughout their lives.

I will take joy in the dinosaur I stepped on as I put my shoe on, because it means my 4-year-old son took a creative journey back to the prehistoric ages.  I'm guessing my stinky shoe got to a be a tar pit of some sort...

I will be glad for the string of puzzles that found there way into my bed, because it means I have a daughter who still wants to play with her mom.

I will ignore the muddy footprints in my kitchen, because it means family and friends have filled our home.

I will smile at the scrambled eggs on the floor, because it means we had food to eat, and kids who are independent enough to feed themselves...well, sort of...

I will take a deep breath and not freak out about my kids bringing everything (this is just a small sampling) out of their bedrooms into the living room, because it means my son and my daughter are playing with each other.

I will try really hard not to step on any of these Legos, and be thankful for my budding little engineers and their boundless creativity.

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This ended up having a couple of unforeseen benefits:

1. It gave me permission ignore the mess for awhile, and acknowledge that no one got sucked into a black hole and the space/time continuum did not tear. 
2. It forced me to stop and be thankful for the causes of this "small stuff," and appreciate that these little messes and mishaps are to be cherished and treasured now, because one day, the ones who cause them won't be living under this roof. 
3. And even an added benefit for you, dear reader...  Don't you now feel like your house is incredibly clean, and you didn't even have to pick up, wash or dust anything!

Put It Somewhere Safe
I wish I could hang on to this perspective; to put it in a safe place where I won't lose it.  (Along with my keys and my wallet...)  Unfortunately, I fear that in the hustle and bustle that is life, this new-found perspective will inevitably get lost again, along with a stack of mail and a wayward toddler sock.  I can only hope for more deep breaths, more photo opportunities and more reminders to focus on what is truly important in this life.  

My faith.  My family.  My friends.  

That is beyond enough.  I am truly blessed.  

When the messes are piling up, You Are A Good Mom.  

When you are busy raising children, You Are a Good Mom.  

When you lose perspective, but find it again, You Are a Good Mom.

"Parent"dox

par·a·dox \ˈper-ə-ˌdäks, ˈpa-rə-\

          
          a statement that is seemingly contradictory or opposed to common 
          sense and yet is perhaps true

1.  It is a paradox that computers need maintenance so often, since they are meant to save people time.

(merriam-webster.com)

par·ent·dox  \I need one of my genius speech path friends to do 
                            this part\                                 
                            \Kelli & Gretchen are laughing right now\

the daily experience that is parenthood; seemingly living life in contradiction

1.  It is a "parent"dox that I am exhausted pretty much all day, but the second my head hits the pillow, my mind starts remembering all of the random things I need to do and I am instantly wide awake.

2.  While cooking, I find is "parent"doxical that the more time it takes to prepare a meal, the less of it my children will eat.  For example, a hot dog takes 25 seconds in the microwave, and my kids will eat the entire thing and ask for seconds.  Wild rice and chicken casserole, which requires 35 minutes of prep work and is made entirely of things they love to eat, will elicit only the one required "taste bite" and my children will carry on as though I have asked them to cut off an appendage.  

3.  Why does my 7 pound newborn baby require that I take 200 pounds of stuff with us in order to leave the house?  Hmmm...such a "parent"dox.

4.  It seemed as though my heart was completely and entirely full and could not contain another ounce of love or joy when my son was born.  What a "parent"dox that my love and joy was multiplied exponentially the moment my daughter was born.  My family and my capacity for love both grew that day.

(youreagoodmom.blogspot.com)

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I have come to realize that from the moment you sign on to become a parent, you also sign on to live the remainder of your life in a "parent"dox.  You are filled with excitement, trepidation, joy, and worry beyond words.  From there on out, at any given moment, on any given day, you will most likely experience some sort of "parent"dox.  It's not good, it's not bad...it just is.  Here are a few I've experienced in my very short tenure as a parent...

CLEANING
Trying to clean the house while there are real, live, actual children living in it is an ongoing "parent"dox I face each and everyday.  I attempt to _____ (fill in the blank here...fold laundry, do dishes, clean the bathroom, pick up the living room...) and as soon as said chore is complete (or even partially complete for that matter) I have an equally large (or larger) mess waiting for me.  

Laundry is folded?  Great!  Every book pulled off the bookshelf...not so great.  Bathroom cleaned?  Super! All shoes pulled out and strewn throughout the house...un-super.  Dinner made?  Awesome!  All sorted and organized toy boxes (that job in and of itself had  been traded in for another mess, no doubt...) dumped out and mixed together in the living room...less than awesome.  

The other thing I love about cleaning with kids is the illusion of ever actually finishing a chore.  The floor is mopped.  For a total of 5 seconds.  Because before the mop is actually put away, graham cracker crumbs have already been scattered across the formerly clean floor.  I am also totally convinced that dirty laundry somehow multiplies while it is in the basket.  I throw a pair of socks into an empty basket (wait...who am I kidding...the basket is never empty...but stick with me on this one...), come back 8 minutes later, and the basket is overflowing.  I get that whole "matter can neither be created nor destroyed" bit, but I think dirty laundry supersedes this law of physics.  

The e-card below makes me laugh every time I see it, and totally sums up this "parent"dox.


BEDTIME
Bedtime is one of the most well-known "parent"dox moments around our house.  Doing the dance that is bathing, pajama-ing, and teeth brushing a preschooler and a toddler is not without frustration, distraction, negotiation, and flat out HARD WORK!  But the immediate follow up to that is cuddling in bed with both of them while we read stories, talk about the day, pray, and just spend some all-around quality time together.  It is both my most dreaded and most anticipated time of the day.  

That is not even the most "parent"doxical part to me, though.  The part that never ceases to amaze me is after a day filled with longing for the time when I will have a few minutes to myself, I find myself missing them once they are finally asleep.  What is that?  All day long they whine, argue, demand, make messes (I suppose there is some good stuff sprinkled in there, too...) and then when it is finally calm and quiet, I miss the heck out of them?  Why is it I just want to hear their little voices and giggles? Without fail, I will be seeing them soon, when they will be up much earlier than I am ready for the next morning...or in the middle of the night...but for whatever reason, I do find myself missing them at some point during that sacred window of time I spent the majority of the day looking forward to.

TIME
We are so very excited for our kiddos to grow and learn and reach milestones.  They are such celebrations and special family memories! From crawling to walking to teething to talking,  we wait in eager anticipation of these events.  At times is seems as though our kiddos are just on the verge of being able to do something, and then they make us wait just a little bit longer.  Sometimes it can be the anticipation of a skill that will seemingly make life just that much easier.  "When she just starts sleeping through the night..." or "When he can finally feed himself..."  All too soon, though, we find ourselves realizing they are growing up much too fast.  We want to freeze time, to keep them little just the tiniest bit longer.  The "parent"dox of eagerly anticipating the passing of time, yet wanting time to freeze, is such a bittersweet one.  

This quote rings with so much truth for me when it comes to this "parent"dox...

"The days are long, but the years are short."  ~Unknown

PERHAPS THE TOUGHEST, YET MOST AMAZING OF ALL...
I experienced a different kind of "parent"dox for the first time just last week.  My son had completely fallen apart and was having an all out fit after he had been sent to "time out" for knocking down his sister's Lego tower for the second time. When one of these fits strikes, he is nearly inconsolable. Crying. Screaming. Completely irrational.  I have learned that one of the only things that can help pull him out of it is to just leave him by himself for awhile.  On the up side, he knows this, too.  He stormed right past the "time out" spot in front of the coat closet and into his bedroom.  After a few minutes, I went in to see how he was doing and attempt to process the situation at hand.  

He let me have it.  He was mad at me.  He was frustrated with me.  He didn't like me.  I was the trigger of this particular explosion, and even though I knew I would still follow through in the same way again, it still hurt and was still hard to see and hear him be so clearly upset with me. I wanted to him to know he couldn't destroy something his sister had worked so hard on, but had I somehow hurt him in a way I didn't mean to?  Had I reacted too quickly?  Spoken too harshly?  Missed something?  (Weird that he is so sensitive, right?  I mean, I wonder where on earth he could get that from?...)  Eventually, he was able to calm down and talk through the issue with me, take responsibility for his actions {with some prodding}, apologize to his sister and get back to his serious work of playing Legos, helping his sister rebuild her construction and flying Lego cars around the living room.  

Here was the flipside of that "parent"dox.  That night, in the midst of praying for our food and our family at dinner, he threw in "...and thank you for moms who help us when we're crying..."  My husband and I looked at each other.  I could hardly believe it.  A situation that hours earlier had been frustrating, exhausting, and also had me beating myself up pretty good, had amazingly turned into a sweet moment I will never forget.  Where earlier he had been so upset, so mad, so emotionally out of control, here he was now verbalizing tenderness, kindness and thankfulness.

I know we will encounter many more situations much bigger, much deeper, much more complicated than this one.  I know 99.9% of the time I will never hear a "thank you" of any kind after being the bearer of bad news or the enforcer of consequences.  So this is the "parent"dox I will tuck away, I will hold on to, I will try to remember, when I find myself in the midst of the next one. 

When you are feeling the worst; when it hurts the most; in that moment, THAT is when You are a Good Mom.  

When you are agonizing about how hurt he is because you followed through on a consequence, that is when You are a Good Mom.

When you stick to your decision, and she "hates" you because "Everyone else is!", that is when You are a Good Mom.

When your daughter has hurled a string of insults at you, and topped it all off with "And you're ugly, too!" as you are helping her to learn the life skill of not saving a big project until the night before it is due, that is when You are a Good Mom.  (Yes, the eerie accuracy and detail of that last one does indeed mean it took place in my childhood home...)  

And ultimately here is perhaps the biggest "parent"dox of them all...they are worth it.  All these crazy, goofy, bittersweet "parent"doxes are worth it. Ask any parent, and they will tell you, without a doubt, that being a parent is worth it.  When it comes down to it at the end of the day, I am grateful that I get to experience these "parent"doxes.  I am blessed that I have these tiny little clothes to wash, trucks and Legos to step over when I walk into my bathroom to brush my teeth at night, kids to wrestle with at bedtime, milestone memories to treasure and remember, and glimpses of seeing my kids learn lessons as they go through life.  

The good stuff far outweighs the bad stuff.  Delighting in the amazing stuff far outweighs enduring the tough stuff.  We bear the burden of heartbreaks, frustrations, sorrows and disappointments, but we are given joys, celebrations, happiness and pride beyond our wildest dreams.  

Weathering the hard times, celebrating the good times...that is when You Are A Good Mom.