Close call!

Boy, did we ever have a close call today.

We've had a tempermental light switch for some time. The girls would have to click the switch several times to get it to light up. Well, today, while they were getting ready for their first ever ballet recital, I walked in their bathroom to a horrific smell. I felt the light switch and noticed it was very hot and it was smoking! Holy crap! I'm so glad Brad was home. I'm so glad we were home with the kids. I'm so glad we had the opportunity to catch this before our lives changed forever. Thank God!!!

We had a new switch on hand, thank goodness, so Brad was able to change it out right away. Next time you have a troublesome switch, listen to it right away and fix it so you never have to go thru the panic that we did. Also teach kids not to throw water on electrical or grease fires. It turns out that our kids didn't know that. Lastly, teach the kids how to turn off the electricity and the main water supply for that matter. Remind them how to use the fire hydrant and where it is located.

I'm so thankful that we had a happy ending to our scary story.

The terrific twos

So we are officially in the terrific twos. This is my happy place that I am going to imagine when things are going less than terrific. He is in his big boy bed, free to escape at a moment's notice. And he does. We are in that training phase of trying to get him to sleep in his bed, all night like normal people, and then wake at 7:00 am, like normal people. Some days are better than others. Last night wasn't too bad. He went to bed at 8ish. Woke up at 9ish and came out all geared up and goofy. I'm not sure what happened there. I put him to bed again and he says. "Good night Mommy, bye." I'm not sure why I think that is so cute. "Bye," I tell him back. This morning he awoke at 6:15 sharp. I should be happier with that, but I'm hanging on to the fairy tale. Dream big, right? He laid in bed next to us for about a half hour, holding his breath and then exhaling in a big burst. Why do kids do that? I remember my girls doing that. There is nothing sweeter than the idea of a warm, snuggly child cuddled up in my cozy, incredibly soft bed. They don't breath like the ocean waves rhythmically coming into and out of shore. It is a quiet inhale, an awkward silent holding phase, and then a noisy outburst of air. So not part of my fairy tale. He sits up and I pray that he is heading for one of his sister's rooms. When I do eventually arise, I make it to my coffee maker that is unfortunately sitting cold and idle. Brandon peeks up from the couch, taking a momentary break from Miss Spider's Sunnypatch Friends, and asks, "Good sleep, Mommy?" "Yes Brandon," I smile, "I did have a good sleep." He seems so satisfied with this interaction that he now is asking everyone if they have had a good sleep.

This is a little reminder that we really create these little ones by how we interact with them, day in and day out, the good and the ugly. Apparently, I haven't ruined this one yet.

It's Christmas in July.

I had a nice day today. I had the annual appointment that we ladies look forward to so much. This time, however, my office offered a complimentary facial immediately following. I was game for that generous offer. It was wonderful, the facial that is. I felt so pampered. I’m not one to have a whole lot done for me. I do my own nails, my pool, my yard, my house cleaning. I’ve even cut my hair for about 13 years. I now actually have someone cut it for me. Don’t get me wrong, my husband helps with the yard and pool, but I’m seriously putting in effort in these areas as well. And when I say I do my house cleaning, I mean I’m not paying anyone else to do it. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we.

Anyway, I was so glad that I had shopped for school supplies before the blessed facial because I truly felt “too good” for back to school supply shopping. I can see how taking care of ourselves can really make us better, I mean nicer, moms. It takes the edge off. You know what else takes the edge off? A breeze accompanied by a 20 degree drop in temperature in an hour or so, in the desert, in July. My husband was able to wax the car, the girls made up a dance routine, and our boy played hockey in the driveway. We also were able to swim in a pool that was 5 degrees warmer than the air. That is always a delightful experience.

I must say today was a memorable gift, filled with pampering, retail therapy, a gorgeous sunset and I currently have possession of the TV remote control for the first time in about two weeks. Somebody pinch me. I’m not sure it gets any better than this.

I’ve got a new helper.

I’ve raised my kids to be pretty self-sufficient around the kitchen, well sort of. It usually works out well. The girls have been making their own breakfasts for years. Our kid friendly dishes are stored in a low cabinet for them to access with ease. Like many families, we work our dishwasher hard. At least once a day, we run it. I’ve gotten to the point that I loathe loading and unloading it. It is just too much sometimes. I want to hide in the corner and rock. Or, I can have my kids unload it, and then I can carry about my day like a normal person. That its until my third child has begun helping. I didn’t mind thinking of him unloading his cups and bowls. How cute, I thought. He is going to grow up to be a real catch.

Well, I just witnessed him helping. And I feel like I could use an adult beverage. It is 5:00 somewhere, right? He was super motivated and loving his new role as a kitchen crew member. He was pulling my china dinner plates out of the dishwasher rack and heading toward the granite counter top with them in tow. The girls didn’t seem very surprised at this sight. Well, I’ve now explained the rules on “to what degree” a toddler can help and I think I may have to stick around just to make sure my guidelines are followed. Maybe I should just unload it myself. I don’t like where this is going.

Back up.

I’ve often wondered why we waited so long to have our third child. There is quite a gap there. I figured it was because we got a puppy when my second child was 2 ½. The puppy likely served as our third. Occasionally we would have discussions of more kids, but I was always able to convince my husband that the cons outweighed the pros.

Rewind back to January 2008. Unfortunately, my husband’s grandma had been ill and made her passing. My husband made the trek back to Indiana on his own. He spent the few days with a huge extended family. Parents, aunts, uncles, cousins galore, in fact I believe the count was 22 grandchildren and 44 great grandchildren! He made his way back to us, only to jump in the car and drive to Disneyland the next day. We had a family vacation planned before Grandma’s passing.

As we were packing the car up that same night. He said very matter-of-factly, “I think I made my decision.” I stopped loading. Hair stood up on my neck. I have the uncanny ability to know what my husband is going to say by the tone of his voice, after the first two words have been spoken. I have to fight an intense urge not to finish all of his sentences. Trust me on that.

Our girls were then 7 and 5. I felt like I was home free. No diapers, soon to be no car seats. I had kids that listened. My world was rocking, big time. I sat in silence for part of the trip. I felt as an attorney may feel, planning the closing arguments. Let's just say, the con list overfloweth. I subscribe to a monthly publication called Daily Word. It has uplifting words for living. I opened the booklet to January 19th, and read. “I am healthy and wise, at peace, and open to my good. Let go, let God.” It continued and spoke directly to my soul. I was 35, and I had previously considered myself to be past that season. Short story is that I was willing to let go and let God, for one month, after my first mammogram.

I’d like to bring us back to last night, July 4th! We were at a restaurant with the kids prior to watching the fireworks. My boy was running around on the dance floor of the cowboy-themed restaurant, complete with peanut shells discarded on the floor. The girls had already eaten their meals, he had already refused his. It was our turn to enjoy our entrees. It came to me. The reason we waited so long, was that we needed back up. The girls are 10 and 7 and are always on call as back up for our little fire ball. God bless them.

Time out.

So, this is seriously funny. Don’t hate me. Let me have this moment of glory. I know it won’t last.

My little guy is just dipping his feet into the time-out phase of his life. Time-outs are our first line of defense regarding discipline. Okay, they are the third. First we ignore, then we think “Hey, this kid is getting out of hand,” then we remember the blessed time-out.

As you know, if you’ve been reading here, our little guy is a climber. He looks proudly at us from each challenge he conquers. He acts like he has no clue that we mean business. We’ve gently introduced him to his time-out spot. No counting 1,2, 3 for him. When we come to an impasse (he climbs something and won’t get down after we ask 5 times or so), we say, “Okay I think you need a time-out.” He eagerly climbs down and sits in his designated time-out spot. We set the timer for a minute. He quietly looks up at us with the sweetest little face and waits. The timer goes off. We tell him to get up. He comes to us with kisses and hugs. Here is the best part, he forgets what he was doing to get into the time-out in the first place.

My girls think he is the most adorable thing ever as he serves his time. We are all careful not to let him know our feelings, until after the timer rings. We all wait patiently for our kisses. I think it is our favorite time of the day.

Time flies.

Recently, my 10 year old was going through her big box of artwork and memorabilia that is stored under her bed. She was tearful about how cute she used to be and how old she was now. I asked her to imagine how old I felt, having a 10 year old. I told her about how I can remember back when I was in kindergarten. She seemed impressed. I guess it is similar to when my mom said to me, “Talk to me when your baby turns 40!.” Of course, she wasn’t referring to me. It is official, when looking back, no matter your age, time really does fly.

Having a little boy is quite different than how I remember things being when the girls were little. He wakes up, yelling and pointing with amazement “Ball! Vroom, vroom! Hockey!” He goes to bed, yelling “Moon! Dog! Ball!” Did I mention the climbing? We were watching a very girlie movie tonight. A field of flowers, where fairies live, is about to be destroyed by a bunch of big tractors and trucks. My boy’s eyes opened wide at the sight of the construction vehicles. “Wow,” he said in awe. The movie just became worth watching! Let’s just say that he has a passion for life. He is on the go and he loves life! We need to remember our passions that really light our fire, and not let the daily grind snuff out all sparks. You know, the endless laundry loads, the dishwasher full of clean dishes while the sink is full of dirty dishes, the dust bunny reunion in the back hall, please tell me I don’t need to continue.

Looking back 10, 20, 50 years down the road, hopefully we will look back and have so many unique experiences and memories. I hope that dishes and laundry do not make the cut into the Top 100 Exciting Moments of My Life. This blog is sure to remind me that there is life outside of chores and duties. I am blessed to have the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of those around me. I better get cracking, time is ticking.

Muscle memory.

Last night was like any other night. I read bedtime stories to my little boy. He mooched a few more out of me. Then, I finally put my foot down. “Good night Boo Boo, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite you,” I say quietly. I put him in his crib, gave him his “two dogs” that he requests, and then turned on his music. I slipped out the door and breathed a sigh of relief. I get some me time at the computer. Goodie, goodie. A few minutes later, my boy comes running out of his room with a wild look on his face. It happened. He just climbed out of his crib for the first time in his life.

Stunned, I tell my husband the news. “Good job, buddy! He’s a boy,” he proudly informs me. That was not my first response. He is 20 months old. I have no place to put him anymore where I know he will be safe. I’m in shock. I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with this. After the shock wears off, I attempt to put him back to bed. He willingly goes with me and cuddles up to his fuzzy blanket and dogs, as usual. As soon as I leave the room, he stands up and effortlessly scales the crib, dismounting with ease. He appears in front of me with the same wild expression.

In yoga class, the teacher explained to me that we are building muscle memory when we stay in difficult poses for long periods of time. Next time, the same pose will take a little less effort. Apparently, in male toddlers, the rate at which muscle remembers is accelerated. My boy is a prodigy, hence his father’s pride.

It took about 4 attempts of putting him back to bed, and a firm order to lay down, for it to finally stick. I’m not willing to give up on the 4-sided enclosure yet. Morning, thank you God, went fine. He was awake at 6:00 am and contentedly babbling until 7:00. Phew! I was worried.

It could be worse.

This is borderline positive-thinking for parents. It doesn’t sound positive, but sometimes it is all I can muster. Here are a few examples from this past Saturday.

I get the unexpected 8 am call from the neighbors. “Did you know your garage door is open?” I run out and realize that all is well and accounted for. Phew.

After my husband, I didn’t do it this time, left the garage door open, I gave a big lecture to the girls that we must always close the door when we are the last one to go inside. Fast forward two hours, and we are returning home from the grocery store and in the middle of unloading our merchandise. Our 10 year old remembers my lecture well. She promptly closes the garage door, beaming with pride that she is contributing to team family. “I closed the garage door,” she announces. My husband and I look at each other. After 22 combined years of dating and marriage, we both arrive at the same conclusion. Unfortunately, since we are in the middle of unloading, the tailgate of our SUV is still open. I run out and see the tailgate door mostly closed, in an awkward position. Upon inspection, the tailgate is deeply scratched, but functioning. The garage door is no worse for wear. This has not always been the case, but that is a different story, and I didn’t do it this time. We got lucky.

I look up from my task and realize, my toddler is not underfoot. The girls and I begin searching for him. Everywhere, twice. Okay, seriously, where is he??? Then, I find him, safe. Naughty, but safe. He has found the open jelly bean machine in a remote corner of my daughter's room, hidden from view between her queen bed and the wall, and is piling fistfuls of jelly belly beans in his 8-toothed mouth. “Ummmy,” he says. I know my son considered himself lucky.

I’m washing a sink full of dishes. It is bottomless. My wet, but clean, dishes are piling dangerously high on the nearby counter. I’m having a pity party for one. Then, CRASH! A china bowl, from the clean heap, plunges overboard and smashes e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e! Crap! Then, I think, please let that be the bowl with the chip in it that I should have thrown away years ago. P-l-e-a-s-e! Upon review of the surviving bowls...YESSSS!

Do you see where I am going with this? Say it with me, “It could be worse.”

Is that fun and easy?

Ahh, to be 7 again. As we grow older, it seems that we forget to be lighthearted. While assembling a new electronic gift and reviewing the instruction manual, my 7 year old was edging her head in to get a glimpse of what was being accomplished. She asked, “Is that fun and easy, Mom?” I had to pause. How would you answer that question? I hardly had the heart to tell her the truth, so I lied. “It is fun and easy,” I said back to her, smiling. I had to laugh out loud. She seemed so satisfied with that answer.

Now, I try to remember how she lifted the mood in the room with that simple question. Things really do not need to be as mundane and even painful as we make them appear. My husband and I tend to engage in a few do-it-yourself projects that don’t always go over gracefully. Don’t get me wrong, the job gets done and the project works, but graceful, not so much. My role, in these projects, is to be ready for anything, and (this is key) to be ready quick. I need to be well versed in tool talk. When he asks for a phillips screwdriver, I clarify if that is that the flat one or the cross one. Okay, so I need to brush up on the tool lingo, but if attitude is everything, then I'm seriously a team player here. When he was on his back, under the sink, balancing on his upper back and feet only, sweating while trying to connect the new water line to the new faucet, and water is dripping like clockwork onto his forehead, I squeezed my my head in there and asked, “Is that fun and easy?” It is a mood lifter. You should try it.

Am I doing this right?

Today, the kids and I, went to Target. Again. Well, we had been there the night before to return something. The 10 and 7 year old girls wanted to shop for toys. I knew our time was limited, so I had the girls think over their considerations for purchase overnight. We are very practical. We spent time online price comparing. The need for these toys became apparent. Absence made the heart grow fonder. So away we went, back to Target this morning. Thanks to all the online searching, decisions were made easily. The girls were buying these toys with their own hard earned money. They checked prices with the handy scanner kiosks and were very aware of the dollar totals they were each spending, even a second-grader can add in her head. They are both shocked and somewhat appalled at the idea of taxes on their items.

Meanwhile, in the same shopping trip, I have a 20 month old boy, belted up in the cart. He is supplied with goldfish, milk laced with chocolate Ovaltine, and a random m&m to entice compliance with our shopping program. It is not going as well as planned. He loses interest in each item we show him quicker than the next. He easily eels his way out of the restraints and somehow ends up in my arms. He then morphs into a semi-liquid state and finds himself free, running to the 20 inch bouncing ball display, the mother ship. I see the eyes of the Target employees wondering if we are leaving soon. I also see the understanding eyes of the btdt, been there done that moms and grandparents. I think they may think he's as cute as I think he is. Or, maybe they feel sorry for me. Either way, the only way out of the store, due to his eel-like, semi-liquid qualities, is to chase a big ball to the registers.

All is quiet on the southwestern front. The girls are playing, amazingly well, with their new dolls and accessories . The boy has been fed and is sleeping in his crib. I am here reflecting on how different parenting is in all its stages. The difference in boys, girls, their ages, my age, etc., I only hope I am doing this right.