It was cold and rainy here all weekend. But our house was full of warmth and sunshine.
We took full advantage of being home together for a full weekend. We played, and made music, and colored Halloween cookies.
Yes, that’s a tear on her cheek. She had been very upset about something just before climbing in her seat to color her cookies. Probably that I made her take off her sister’s Snow White dress for the activity…I had shown her how I bit off my ghost’s arms. She laughed and showed me her ghost, “Mama, I bit off his butt!”
We hunkered down for some much needed home time. Lists and agendas went out the window as we spent time just enjoying each other. It. was. awesome.
We did puzzles and played games and watched football. The girls knew the appropriate teams to cheer for (mostly “GO BLUE!” of course, but a little bit of “Yay Hawkeyes!” in there as well so their Daddy wouldn’t feel bad).
We got out paints and went to town. My girls love to paint. I love seeing how they each have their own way of doing it.
Miss decided that finger painting was in order. When I told her I wasn’t going to get out the finger paints (not my fave activity), she improvised. Tricky girl.
So, they made some great handprint art. It was messy. I don’t love messy, but I went with it. It was fun and I survived and they loved it.
It was a lazy jammy weekend. The only reason any of us got dressed all weekend (other than hubby and me when we went on a date Saturday), was that the girls got paint all over their jammies from the finger painting.
Of course we couldn’t get through this weekend family fest without carving our pumpkins. The older girls each had a pumpkin to draw a face on.
Daddy carved them while the girls looked on excitedly.
I forgot to buy one of those little pumpkin carving sets, so he was working hard and having a bit of trouble with my relatively large knives. Then he got smart.
The girls chose to do Mad (Miss’s), Scared (Lass’s), and Sad (Miss’s choice for Sis) faces on their pumpkins. I love how they turned out. It was a fun ending to a wonderful weekend.
My girls have colds. Mostly the younger two. Runny noses, phlegmy throats, snot-shooting sneezes and all. Baby sis has it the worst right now.
I’m constantly running for a tissue to blow the noses of Lass and Sis. Lass informs me constantly, “I need to bwow boogies!” I get so confused going back and forth between the two of them, today I held a tissue up to Sis’s six-month-old nose and said, “Blow!”
We didn’t have anywhere to go, and with the girls feeling a bit yucky, I decided on a jammy day today. The closest anyone came to getting dressed was Lass’s wearing of her sister’s Snow White dress, complete with a red cape, all. day.
It was a good day. This afternoon I finally got to testify in my last case, so now I have no more work stuff hanging over my head. Miss and Lass and I did a “done with work for-evah!” dance after I was finished with my phone testimony.
I was glad to have a chill-out day at home with my girls.
Yesterday was a little more hectic. It was also the first time ever that all of my girls failed to nap in the afternoon. Miss sometimes doesn’t take a nap in the afternoon. That’s nothing new. But Lass and Sis always nap. Yesterday none of them did. None. Of. Them.
Yesterday none of them napped, and we had a photo session scheduled for just after what-should-have-been-nap-time. I planned to have our photographer get some shots of all three girls together, two-year photos of Lass, and six-month photos of Sis. I was also hoping for a family photo if my husband could make it on time after work. All this, and none of them napped!
Of all days.
Amazingly, the photo session was great. The only real evidence that the girls didn’t nap was that Miss was a little bit crazy running around, which she tends to do when she’s overly tired.
That and the fact that Sis fell asleep right before my husband arrived to do our family photo. She slept in his arms the whole time while our photographer snapped a few hasty shots of us all together. She’s skilled with the Photoshop, so we will probably have cut-and-pasted faces patched together to make one decent family photo. It’s all good. We only need one. The fact that we all made it out of there with sanity and limbs intact is nothing short of miraculous, I tell you.
Jammy day was perfect for today.
We’re looking forward to the weekend with Daddy home. Hopefully we’ll get our pumpkins carved and decorate some Halloween cookies. Watch football and chill. I love Daddy-home weekends.
All I can think to write about tonight is how much I love fall. But I’ve already done that so many times. Here. And here (yes, those are two posts, a year apart, with the same title). And here. At least once each year I write a post in which I wax poetic about how much I love fall. I can’t help it. I do love it so. I am trying hard to resist the urge to slip into my fall-loving commentary again. Instead, I’ll let the photos from this weekend show my love, and I’ll try to write about something else.
Okay. I’m trying to think of something else to write about.
Look at the photo below. My hubby is playing Monster chase with the girls. He has pink sidewalk chalk on his butt.
Still trying to think of something.
Oh! I finished reading Atlas Shrugged tonight. Great book. 1168 pages. Yowza. Maybe that’s why my brain feels a bit sluggish right now. I kind of don’t know what to do with myself now that I’m done. Who is John Galt?
More photos.
I give up. We’re having fun with fall. We’re getting pumpkins tomorrow. Carving photos to come soon. And perhaps some intelligent words as well.
Most days, I juggle spending time playing with my girls with all sorts of other daily stuff-I-have-to-do, like folding laundry, cooking dinner, grocery shopping, showering, and so on. It’s just the nature of being a mom. I’d like to spend tons and tons of time just playing with my kids. But I have to get other stuff done. So I alternate playing and doing something on my never ending mental to-do list. They play on their own. They’re pretty good at it. I think it’s a good thing.
But even though they’re good at entertaining each other and themselves, I do love to get down on the floor and just play with them without distractions. I do this at least for a little while every day. Today I made a point of skipping the laundry and other stuff and just being with them. We played dress up and sang songs. I was alternately assigned the roles of Beast, Evil Queen, Happy (dwarf), a giant, Snow White’s mother (?), Prince Charming, and Gaston.
And just when I thought I was being Super Awesome Mom and we were having the best. time. ever., Miss asked, “Is anyone coming over to play with us?” She was referring to a babysitter. I told her that no one was, that I was staying and playing with them.
“But I want someone to come play with us.”
Huh? I’m your Mom and I’m here, laughing and tickling and being silly and wearing crazy hats and playing all these stupid characters and you want a babysitter?
Yeah. Okay. I love that my girls like their babysitters. That’s a good thing. But when it comes to this sort of stuff, being compared with babysitters, Mom kind of gets a raw deal. I mean, let’s face it, I just can’t compete with someone who gets paid to do nothing but lavish all her attention and energy on my kids for the entire time she’s with them. She doesn’t have to do laundry, make beds, vacuum floors, make grocery lists, and on and on while trying to attend to my three kids. And while I’m pouting about this, I can’t compete with my husband on this stuff either. But that’s mostly just because he is totally willing to play monster and chase and hide and seek all. evening. long. with my two older girls. And truth? I really don’t like playing chase and hide and seek, so I’m giving that one up to him. But still …
Watching the game!
I know. There are lots of times when my kids want only me. When they’re sick, or hurt, or scared, or tired. Or nervous, or excited, or proud. If I’m on the phone or trying to have a discussion with another mom at a play date. They want me when there’s a book to be read or a song to be sung. No one can tuck them in quite like me (though Miss chose to have my mom tuck her in every night when my parents visited recently).
I had to take the girls to the doctor today, because Miss had an ear infection. Third trip to the doctor in four days.
Sometimes other people, like Daddy, grandparents, and babysitters, are popular with my kids because they can provide them with undivided attention for extended periods of time. I do it sometimes too of course, though not as much as I’d like. Even when I make a point to just play, things don’t always work out the way I plan (today was a day for just playing, but then Miss complained of ear pain so we had to go to the doctor and then to Target for a prescription).
As Mom, I often have to divide my attention between my three girls or between my girls and the myriad other things I have to do each day. They are often excited to have a babysitter to play with them. They’re always excited for grandparents and their Dad.
It never bothers me that they love being with other people. I think it’s great. And it truly doesn’t bother me that they sometimes choose other people over me (though I was kind of shocked today to be dissed while I was doing what I thought was some super awesome playing with them).
Thing is, it’s not a competition. No one else can be their Mom. No one else will ever fill that role for them but me. And if they’re secure in that, then they’ll be happy to have great relationships with the other special people in their lives. They have awesome relationships with their Daddy and grandparents and aunts and uncles. And yes, clearly they enjoy their babysitters. Each of these relationships is special and important for each of my girls.
I don’t give my girls undivided attention all day long. I don’t think any mom does. It would be weird and helicopter-ish if I did. Instead, I spend some time giving them focused attention and the rest of the time they have me here, nearby, all day every day as their sounding board. Their touchstone. When they run to me or call to me countless times each day, I’m always here to answer, to listen, to watch.
They know that I’m always here, and that I always will be. Even when they choose the babysitter (or Grandma or Daddy) over me.
She always knows how to keep me on my toes. She challenges me, this one does. She likes to think and figure things out. She asks lots of questions.
Today her questions were about death. Gulp.
We’ve had some discussion about death before. One of our dogs died last June and we talked about it then. My husband’s grandmother passed away this past June, and we talked about it more.
Today for some reason she got really curious about death and asked some very difficult questions for a mother of a three year old to answer.
Questions like, “Mama, are you gonna die some day?”
My heart broke a little bit as I made a split second decision to be honest instead of glossing over or not really answering her question (she doesn’t fall for it when I do that anyway). So I answered her calmly (as my heart was pounding and my brain was silently screaming at me, “Don’t screw this up!”), “Yes, Honey, someday. Everyone dies someday, and that’s okay. It’s just part of life.”
And then her little lip started to quiver. Tears formed in her eyes. I started to feel panicky. How could I answer her questions so she wouldn’t be fearful? How could I be honest and yet let her know that she didn’t have to worry about death? How did I get into this conversation?
Her next question was like a sledgehammer to my chest. With shaky voice, “But Mama, if you die, who will be my mommy?”
I tried to explain very calmly that I would always be her mommy and that hopefully I would not die for a very, very long time, and that she didn’t need to worry about me dying.
She was still worried. The next question?
“Mama, am I gonna die some day?”
Oh no. Well, I was going for honesty. So I told her that yes she would, someday. But not for a long, long time. She was upset and said that if she died she would be sad to not be able to play with her toys. I don’t know how I managed to keep from dissolving into tears at this point, but I didn’t.
Through all of this, I was so worried that I was screwing it all up and that she was going to have nightmares and be fearful from now on that everyone around her was going to die any moment. She asked me if her Grandma would die, and our remaining dog (who is quite ill), and my Grandpa (who is 94 and on her mind because we just sent him a care package).
I think she was trying to figure out people’s level of oldness with all these questions. See, to this point we have discussed death as something that happens when people or pets get very old. When our dog died, she was very old but she also had cancer. I didn’t want Miss to be worried every time she got sick, so I explained that our dog died because she was old. Same for my husband’s grandmother, who was 92 when she passed away. I’m not ready to get into the subjects of sicknesses and accidents that can cause death before old age. I don’t think she’s ready for that either. So today I stuck with death happens when you’re old.
Not completely honest, but enough for a three year old on a topic like this.
Honestly, I don’t know if I handled this conversation correctly. I tried to answer her matter-of-factly and give lots of hugs and tell her she does not need to worry about dying right now. During the entire conversation I was trying to change the diaper of a squirmy baby and navigate errant dance moves and ninja kicks from Lass, so I might not have been as focused and eloquent as I would have liked to be for a conversation of this magnitude.
But I think it turned out okay. After asking lots of questions, my precious, spunky, oldest daughter abruptly picked up on something her sister was pretending regarding being Rapunzel and did an about-face to start pretending to be Mother Gothel (I was Flynn Rider). I was a bit shocked and had a brief urge to ask, “Is that it? Are we done with all that death talk for now? You’re not scarred for life or anything, right?”
Instead I jumped into character and began playing Flynn Rider with gusto. My girl seems fine. Phew.
This is my favorite time of year. When the air cools and becomes crisp and smells amazing. When everything changes so quickly. And beautifully. When I think, at least once per day, that I wish I had my camera so I could pull my car over and take a photo of that gorgeous farmstead, that harvested field, that amazing tree. …
I didn’t pull over to take this photo. This is just the tree in our front yard.
Often, I don’t have my camera. But even when I do, I never pull over to take photos of what I see as I drive along. I’m always worried about finding a safe place to stop. Or about getting home quickly because my kids are hungry, or tired, or need to go to the bathroom. Maybe I should make a point of keeping my camera with me. Maybe I should stop once in a while. Seize the moment and all that. Maybe someday I will. But for now, who needs photos of farms and trees, when you have this?
Leaves on a trampoline –
A nice front porch for hanging out –
And drawing –
Lots of leaves for gathering and raking and throwing and jumping –
This time of year is when I get the urge to do more spontaneous things. Simple things to soak in the beauty of my favorite season. Like pulling my car over on a country road simply to take a beautiful photo. Or stopping at the roadside pumpkin stand.
And then I remember I need to make lunches and feed a hungry baby and get girls down for naps, or get to school/swimming/gymnastics on time, or get home to start cooking dinner.
Oh well. I do try to do other simple things that make the most of the perfect fall days we’ve been having, like impromptu lunch picnics and walks and jumping in leaf piles. We are planning Halloween costumes and will be getting pumpkins for carving soon. We watch football and buy apples at the farmer’s market. I get lots of gorgeous photos of my girls enjoying the season. We’ve got leaves in hair, crazy outfits, precarious wielding of very large yard tools. … Soon we’ll have pumpkins, bigger leaf piles, and two little girls trick or treating as ballerinas (again). Who needs photos of barns and cows and fields?
I know this makes two posts in two days with a video of my middle child. But this video just cracked. me. up. I have been trying to explain to people how she does this little rock star jam on her fake guitar, but it really defies explanation. At two, this girl rocks the guitar like it’s her job.
She takes after her Daddy, I think.
Also, I apologize for the video from yesterday. I didn’t realize that it wouldn’t play for anyone but me, because I had uploaded it as “private.” I have fixed it now, so both videos can be viewed.
My mom is a children’s librarian. When she comes to visit, she usually brings cool books or book-related activities for the girls to do. This is great, because I’m not always so great at coming up with stuff like this for them (says the mom who is planning to homeschool her kids when they begin kindergarten … yikes). During my parents’ recent visit she brought a fun project to go with the new book “The Artist Who Painted a Blue Horse” by Eric Carle.
We love Eric Carle books. We have a ton of them. With this new book the publisher is doing some sort of marketing thing where they encourage kids to “paint” their own horse picture, using the printable you can find here, and mail it to Mr. Carle. So, we did.
Love.
We mailed them off the other day. Miss was excited about sending them to Mr. Carle, though she didn’t really understand what he would do with them (nor do I). As a nice side note, the activity prompted lots of discussion about authors and artists and the mail and addresses and how all that works.
After reading this book and talking about how books get made, Miss asked to make a book to give to my husband when he came home from his trip. She titled it “Wee Willy Winky” and had me write that on each page that she illustrated with her art work. I’m thinking I might print out some other pics like this horse and let the girls color and put together their own books.
They are quite into being “artists” after reading this. Awesome.
My husband has been gone for the past 10 days elk hunting in Colorado. My parents left this morning after visiting with the girls and me for a week to help out while he’s been gone. Their visit was all part of the plan for my husband’s trip, and I am so glad they were able to come. Of course I would have been able to manage if they hadn’t (I’m obviously not the first woman to have to care for children by myself for a while), but it sure did help that they were here. Especially since I was so out of sorts last weekend. Last week I was having a rough time getting in my groove. My parents’ arrival was like hitting the “reset” button.
I think we all sometimes just need to hit reset.
When you’re a mom, sometimes the stuff just kind of piles on, and no matter how much or how fast you dig, you end up feeling a bit buried. Last week, I was feeling it up to my neck. And it wasn’t just because my husband had been working nights and then left town. That was only part of it. When you’re home with small children all day every day, stuff just gets to you some days.
Fact is, being a stay-at-home mom is sometimes a lonely job. I love it, but it just is. That’s why I talk to my husband or chat with friends. Have play dates or go to Target. I love my girls fiercely, but naturally, interactions with them happen on their level. They do talk a lot. I mean, a lot. And I love talking to them. I love hearing how their little minds work and the questions they come up with. But good lord, the questions! Sometimes they can overwhelm. A good friend described it well when she said that a mother of several small children hardly ever gets a chance for her mind to be quiet. Which is all fine, except sometimes I like to have time for my mind to be quiet. I like to have time to think and reflect and also to talk with other valued grown ups. Failing that, I’ll make a run to Target, where at least I can see a few random grown ups, and have a short interaction with the check out girl, and hopefully the change of scenery keeps my girls occupied enough to keep them from grabbing and scratching and pinching each other for 15 minutes. …
My point is, in all the noise, it’s okay to lose it sometimes. Hit reset. Move on.
This week, I’m good. I’m back to me. As in Mom-who-has-her-shit-mostly-in-a-pile-instead-of-raining-down-on-her me.
In spite of my sometimes insanity, I love being a stay at home mom. I don’t want my life to be any other way. My life’s work is right here, in progress.
She was fantastic throughout the 3-day process. Today she didn’t have even one accident. She totally rocked it. The biggest difficulty she’s had these past few days has been with false alarms. I’m not sure if she was just worried about having an accident or still a little confused about her signals for “time to go!” It was probably a little of both. An example: Tonight she was sitting on my lap while watching a movie. She let out a big toot, stood up, looked at me, and said with a big smile, “I just poop on you Mama!” I tried not to laugh. For about a tenth of a second. She just smiled bigger as my mom and I cracked up and I tried to catch my breath to explain to her that she had not, in fact, pooped on me.
Whatever. She had fewer false alarms today than yesterday. She gets it.
It was seriously awesome to do the potty training thing with my parents here. My dad cooked dinners, making it possible for me to hover around Lass at all times, saying repeatedly, “Make sure you tell Mommy if you have to go potty, okay?” and for us to still eat good food. My mom totally covered things with the other two.
This little one got handed off to Grandma many times while I ran with her sister to the bathroom. She took it in stride.
Hopefully, the great results will continue. The 3-day program I use is tiring, but if you’ve been reading here for a while, you might remember that my real trouble with potty training Miss occurred during the week after the initial training was done. In fact, in writing about an especially difficult day that week, I referenced what I had learned about handling a riot while working in a federal prison. You know things are tough when you’re comparing dealing with your toddler with handling a prison riot.
Let’s just say I am fervently hoping I do not have any type of repeat of that experience this week.
In other news, my husband is coming home tomorrow night. He will probably be very dirty and possibly quite smelly after more than a week out in the woods. I don’t care. I. Can’t. Wait.
