Wednesdays with Lass

Posted on by Amy
At least once per week, on Tuesday or Wednesday or both, I have a special morning with Lass while Miss is at school.  Sometimes we run errands or just go home and play.  Often we go to a local cafe where they have a big play area for little ones.  Sis comes along of course, but mostly she just sleeps or chills in her car seat or wrap, so it is special time for Lass and me to hang out.  Her little personality just seems to blossom during these times.  She is so curious and chatters away about everything she sees.  She loves to look at the mural at the cafe and point out each animal she sees.  She plays in the little house and with the train table.

We have a snack.  She likes to climb up in the chair at one of the other small tables, point to the other chair and say, “Sit?  Mama sit?”  Then we sit at the table, just the two of us and chit chat.

Yesterday she wouldn’t take off this paper bib after her snack.

She is growing and changing so quickly.  She’s 21 months old today.  Her vocabulary seems to grow every day and she now speaks in full sentences.  She has little things she likes to say a lot, like “No yet,” if you ask her to do something or “Okay?,” meaning, “Are you okay?”  She pats or rubs my arm or leg if she can when she asks this one.  She is very interested in taking care of her baby sister and tries to be able to do all the things her big sister can do.  She is now wearing a “big girl pony tail” like her big sis.  She looks so grown up.

I love my mornings with my middle girl. 

The Tantrum

Posted on by Amy

Last week my husband worked nights and Miss didn’t nap.  That wasn’t the best combination, and we had a few rough points during the week.  It reminded me of another time my husband was working nights and Miss had her first super crazy meltdown tantrum.  Aaaah, memories…
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Okay, so I am floundering a bit with this “Terrible Twos” thing. I hate even saying that. “Terrible Twos.” Having a nearly-two-year-old is not terrible. Most of the time, it’s pretty great. But I have found myself in this place recently where sometimes, just sometimes, it is totally. crazy. psycho. During Miss’s toddlerhood thus far we’ve had our share of “moments.” Brief little fits. Minor tantrums. They were usually short and they’d blow over quickly. Miss could be distracted pretty easily, and if not she’d pull herself together without too much drama. The one area where we sometimes would have a big meltdown would be after nap when Miss would sometimes wake up in a terrible mood and just have a screaming fit for what seemed like an age.
And then we had today. This morning. My girl woke up like a little ray of sunshine, as always. We had fun playing and coloring and watching a little bit of Sesame Street. We pretended to be dinosaurs. She pretended to make lemonade. Then she said she was hungry so I took her in the kitchen to get a snack. I asked her what she wanted. “Bunny crackers.” “Yogurt.” Okay, no problem. I got out the yogurt, got a spoon, opened the yogurt and started to put it in front of her. Strawberry yogurt. Yum. Then she asked for a sandwich. I simply said something like, “Well honey, let’s have a little snack now and then I’ll get you a sandwich at lunchtime.” Hello. Commence screaming. Seriously. She started howling like a banshee and did not stop. I tried all my usual tricks. I tried to get her to laugh. I said something like, “I’m sorry you’re upset. Please use your words to tell me what you want and I’ll be happy to help you.”  Ha!! After a while of more shrieking I thought I heard her say, “bunnies,” so to try to positively reinforce her “using her words” I got the bunny crackers out and put some on her placemat. She screamed harder. I ate her yogurt and tried to wait her out. She said “down” so I got her down from her chair, at which point she fell to the floor and continued howling. My husband, who was upstairs trying to sleep came downstairs and asked her why she was crying. She stopped for a second, said “Daddy” and then went right back to yelling. He looked at me, I shrugged, he went back upstairs with a comment to the effect of, “Well, I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t knocked out down here or something . . .” The rest of what he said was lost in the noise of our daughter. I’m pretty sure that was his no-so-subtle way of saying, “Okay, since you’re conscious, can you please do something about our child’s insane wailing?” It didn’t help that he happened to come downstairs during the part where I was eating her yogurt and trying to wait her out, so it probably looked like I was just chillin’, having a snack, not realizing that our child had turned into a little puddle of insanity on the floor.
Anyway, it went on. I could describe the whole painful morning in detail, I’m sure, as it feels as though the scene is scorched into my brain, never to be forgotten. The First Big One. But I’ll spare you the details. Okay, I probably already gave way too many details. So, we can leave it at, It Was Bad, and move on. I probably could have ended it rather quickly by turning on the TV or letting her watch Yo Gabba Gabba on the computer or something like that. But I could not bring myself to do that. It just felt like that would have been reinforcing a behavior I’m not anxious to have repeated. Okay, don’t laugh, I know it will be repeated in some form quite a few times and probably agonizingly in public on at least a few occasions too. I’m just saying, I don’t want to increase the frequency of the Tantrum From Hell by reinforcing it. I’m a psychologist. I’m all into my behavioral principles. I know them forwards and backwards. I guess I automatically get Skinnerian in my head when dealing with this discipline stuff. But I gotta say, this morning, I felt L.O.S.T. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t really even upset. I just had no idea how to make it stop. I knew I didn’t want to reinforce the behavior, but I also wasn’t trying to punish her. She’s almost two. She doesn’t have good control of her emotions and still has trouble expressing herself. She’s learning to deal with this stuff just like I am. But wow. I felt like I had been dropped into the deep end and had forgotten how to swim. I suppose, to stick with this simile, I managed to tread. And you know what eventually worked? I sat down on the floor where we had been coloring earlier, picked up a crayon, and started coloring. Within a minute she had stopped crying and was sitting next to me coloring away. Who knew?
So, I don’t really know where I’m going with this post, except to say that I am finding more and more Mommy-moments when I really feel like I’m not sure what the heck I’m doing. I always end up just going with what feels right to me, and things turn out okay. But then I look back and analyze everything and wonder if I did it right and am I going to screw my kid up forever or is she going to turn into a raging brat because I didn’t discipline her enough or did I do it too much and now she’s going to be insecure or rebellious??? Maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration. I’m not quite that neurotic. But I do tend to look back on what I did and see if there’s something I should do better or differently the next time. I guess I’m just making a mental note to myself that, even with all my principles of reinforcement swirling in my head, I still need to learn how to make it work with this girl. And maybe it will be different every time. And then I’ll have to learn it all over again with Lass. And so on. So, I’ve come to realize that there is no greater in vivo learning experience than motherhood. This is my classroom.
After Miss’s fit resolved, I got Lass (poor thing was just hanging out playing during the whole drawn out drama) down for a nap and asked Miss if she wanted to do some finger painting. This was a first for her so she had no idea what I was talking about, but she sure thought it sounded cool. So we got messy as our way to “make-up” (not quite the right word, but I liked the alliteration of the title) after the meltdown.
She liked squishing the paint between her fingers.
Masterpiece #1.
A bit of a lighter touch with this one.
After a while she got freaked out that her hands were so messy.
So she cleaned them off and got right back to it.
She decided to try tasting the paint and didn’t much care for it.
For the record, Crayola’s “washable” finger paints are indeed washable.
Gallery.
She seemed to like this set up better.
Aaand, we’re done.
What better way to finish a messy craft time than with a bubble bath?
Hanging out with Lass at lunch time. We had no more eating-related meltdowns. She had forgotten entirely about the sandwich. For lunch she wanted strawberry yogurt and Cheerios. Unfortunately I had eaten the last strawberry yogurt while she was howling face down on the floor, but she was content with apple. And I wasn’t gonna fuss about the lunch menu today. Apple yogurt and dry Cheerios? Sure.
And here she is proudly showing off her artwork to her Daddy when he woke up.
Before I click “Publish Post,” I feel like I should say that I know this is my second post in less than a week that might seem like it has a bit of a “complain-y” feel to it regarding mothering a toddler. I am not complaining. I realize all the time how lucky I am to have these two little people to bring up in the best way I can. Sometimes I screw up, and sometimes I nail it, and always I hope that I will learn and get better. And this blog is my way of chronicling this journey, and sharing it, and helping myself to figure it out by getting the words out of my head. So that’s it. Going to Arizona tomorrow. Wish us luck on the plane! Good night.
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Things are back to normal around here this week and much improved, though Miss still isn’t napping, which means she’s a bit of a mess by bedtime.  But nothing like she was that day^^^  

Simple

Posted on by Amy
This weekend I’m enjoying simple things.  Lilacs in mason jars on my counter and table.  Big smiles and hugs from my girls.  Playing outside in amazing, warm weather.  Watching imaginations bloom and sister games develop.  Great times with wonderful friends.  Date night.  Some lovely real snail mail notes from my Grandma and a sister in law.  We’re not doing anything extravagant or big this weekend, but doing simple things together is exactly what makes me happy right now.

Miss has had some trouble with a bit of eczema.  We discovered it was probably largely being caused by her frequent wearing of her “ballerina costume.”  So I have had to tell her she can no longer wear it and explain why.  I was worried this might lead to an all out screaming fit.  But to her credit, Miss has taken this in stride and is now just working on expanding her dress up repertoire.  At a play date on Friday she was a doctor.  Yesterday, she was a princess.  She had been wearing high-heeled play shoes and carrying a Snow White purse in addition to her tutu and crown, but in preparation to go outside to play, we discussed every princess’s need for real shoes and sunglasses.  She chose boots.  It’s a good look.

I believe this stick was supposed to be some sort of weapon for fending off the “Evil Queen,” her sister.

The weapon of the Evil Queen?  A watering can.

Miss chose this rock as her place from which to defend herself.
“Here she comes!!!”
Terrifying, eh?

The battle.

It was epic, of course.  Miss alternates between enlisting her sister in the roles of “Monster,” “Evil Queen,” and “Prince Charming.”  Lass plays along happily.  It’s so fun to watch.

Last night I think my husband and I finally reached real “grown up” status.  We had a grown up night and play date in one.  It was awesome.  Our friends came over with their three kids, my husband cooked ribs, the kids played, no one got hurt or threw a tantrum, my friend and I chased kids around and had a some great grown up conversation (as only moms can do while managing five kids running and climbing all over and one newborn), and our husbands consumed a couple of grown up beverages while talking about manly things and occasionally bouncing a baby.  Good food and good company led to a supremely enjoyable evening.

The four oldest kids all crammed into our tiny sandbox.  This thing was the entertainment hit of the evening.  They all played in there, even dumping sand over each others’ heads, and never once was there an argument amongst them.

It was beautiful.

This little munchkin was the star of the show.  She loves to be outside, and she rocked the bouncy seat when she wasn’t eating or napping in her swing inside.  A good time was had by all.

Today we’re having a lazy Sunday at home.  The big girls are outside playing with their daddy.  Our garden is starting to produce a few items ready to be eaten (radishes and lettuce).  We have lots of leftovers from dinner last night, so I won’t have to cook.  This is the life.  Happy weekend to you.

An Anniversary Post

Posted on by Amy

I had a date night with my hubby tonight for our anniversary, which was yesterday, but he has been working nights this week and just finished up this morning.  So, date night tonight.  It was fabulous.  First night out since Sis’s arrival BTW, and all went perfectly (I will never again underestimate the beauty of having a baby who will drink from a bottle).  Four years of wedded bliss with my BFF, my soul mate, the man of my dreams…  It’s late and I have had a glass of wine, so I don’t really have it in me to do an original anniversary post tonight.  But I like the one from last year.  It sums up my feelings for my hubby nicely, so here you go.  Good night!
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Three years ago today, I married the man of my dreams. I know. Saying “the man of my dreams” is totally cliche. However, I think the reason many phrases become cliche is that they are so true. My husband really is the man of my dreams. Before I met him, if I thought of the kind of person I wanted to, or dreamed of, spending my life with, I would have described him. Handsome. Intelligent. Funny. Considerate. Hard-working. Sans piercings… You name it. If I once wished for a quality in a potential mate, he has it. And then some.

Another way I could describe my husband is to say that he is my soul mate. All right. Another cliche. But it’s true! The man could have been created especially for me. He gets me. We’re a great team. He completes me. Oops! There’s another one 🙂

Okay, how about this? My hubby is my best friend. My BFF. Cliche? Maybe. But also true. I would rather spend time with him than anyone else. I love to spend time chatting with him about all sorts of things. I also just love to be in the same room with him even if we’re not talking. He could be working on his computer and I might be reading, and I will always choose to read my book in the same room as him just to be near him.
He is the person I look forward to waking up with every morning. He is my partner in all things. He makes me laugh. He does the dishes while I put the girls to bed. He encourages me to pursue my interests, like book clubs and cooking classes. He lets me know in many ways how much he appreciates me. He does fun things with me like our “Chopped” at home adventure. We share the same values. He loves me and respects me and takes care of me. He is a wonderful dad to our girls.
Here’s to three years of wedded bliss, harmonious matrimony, living real life every day with the man of my dreams. My soul mate. My best friend. My husband is all these things. Truly. Cliche or not. He floats my boat. Lights my fire. Trips my trigger. Yep. I love him.

Lessons on Bargain Shopping

Posted on by Amy
Yard sale season is upon us.  Oh, how I love yard sales (or rummage sales as they’re called around here).  I used to wake up early nearly every Saturday in graduate school with my sales already marked on my laminated city map and cruise around Louisville finding treasures galore.  I furnished my first apartment almost exclusively with yard sale finds.  It makes me almost giddy just thinking about it.
Since having kids I haven’t gone yard-sale-ing as much.  Mostly because I just don’t relish the idea of driving around town, finding a sale, getting the kids out for a quick look, strapping them back into their car seats, and repeating this over and over. Because of course many yard sales only warrant a quick glance and on to the next.  Not fun when you have to drive to get from one to the next with three small children.  
This weekend there was a big annual neighborhood sale that I have been wanting to go to.  I am all about being able to park the car once and walk to lots of sales in a short distance.  I have heard good things about this particular neighborhood sale.  I have been itching to go to it so much that I actually considered trying to get up extra early and hit the sales before going to our play date yesterday morning, knowing that all the best stuff would probably be gone by today.  I quickly discarded that idea as completely insane, but I couldn’t help but feel all antsy about getting to the sales this morning.  When we did get there late this morning, it was wonderful.  Big girls in the wagon, Baby Sis in my wrap, and we were all set to shop.  

It was awesome.

I love finding bargains.  But I think this time I loved teaching Miss and Lass what a “bargain” is even more than the bargains themselves.  We found one sale where they had lots of Little Mermaid books.  Very nice hardcover books that were like new (Miss is holding one in the photo below) for 50 cents each.  I grabbed up the books, gave each girl a dollar, and told them they could each pick two books.  The lady running the sale said, “They can have three for a dollar.”  Naturally, I said, “What a bargain!” and proceeded to try to explain to Miss why this was so.  She wasn’t really listening, because she was carefully going through each of the books to choose her three (which she has been “reading” nonstop and she is sleeping with tonight, BTW), but I was excited to tell her anyway.  I loved watching her select her books, take them to the lady with her dollar and shyly give her the money with a quiet, “Thank you” and a little sideways grin.

Later on I happened to find myself at a sale being run by two ladies in my book club.  They commented on how quietly and peacefully my girls were riding in their wagon.  Thank you Little Mermaid books.

One of my friends was selling Candy Land and Memory games, in great condition, for 50 cents each.  Score.

Miss and I played a game tonight before bed.  She kicked my butt.

I’m looking forward to many years of bargain shopping with my girls.  Next lesson?  I’m teaching them how to haggle…

La La La

Posted on by Amy
A few weeks ago I posted this entry about how much we all love to sing at our house, and included a video of Miss singing “Whistle While You Work.”  I still watch that video from time to time because it makes me chuckle.  
I mentioned in that post that Lass also loves to sing, though of course she can’t quite do all the words to the songs like Miss can yet.  Tonight my husband captured Lass singing on video.  One of Miss’s favorite songs to sing, besides “Whistle While You Work” is the theme from the new Care Bears movies.  She sings it loud and proud, “We are Care Bears, La La La-la-la!”  She sings this so often that Lass’s original word for “Care Bears” was “La-la.”  Now Lass can sing the La-la song herself.  Check it out.

Have a great weekend.  La La La.

Things I Loved This Week

Posted on by Amy
I lost my camera cord for uploading photos for a few days.  I found it yesterday and uploaded a ton of fun photos from the past week.  So here’s a big post of some things I’ve been loving this week, chock full of lots of pics. 
I’m loving new fashion statements.
My Auntie sent a package last week with some things for all of the girls.  My big girls had a field day with these headbands and balloons.  I love that they put the headbands on like little hippies.

When I was little, I was very into dressing up.  I used to have a field day at my Grandma’s house because she would let me play in her jewelry box, which was full of tons of necklaces and clip on earrings.  My Mom’s jewelry box, on the other hand, was sadly lacking fun dress up items, as was her closet.  I think she owned one pair of high heels.  They were silver, from my Auntie’s wedding, I think. I loved that one pair of beautiful shoes.  My Mom just wasn’t really a shoe gal.  Or a purse gal.  Or a clothes gal.  Therefore, my dress up options when I played in her closet were nearly nonexistent.  My girls will not have the same problem.  They get into my closet and have a field day with all sorts of heels and purses.

They have a box of their own things in their play room too.  Shoes have been big this week.

I’m loving sister bonding.

These two have really gotten into wrestling in the past few days.

But they’re always super sweet and gentle with Baby Sis.

I’m loving watching this one.

I’m loving conversations with my girls.

My two big girls are so chatty and have so much to say.  Lass’s language is really exploding and she is starting to speak in sentences.  She can say just about anything, though sometimes it’s hard to understand her at first.  She makes me smile and often laugh with the little things she says. She loves to play “Shark” right now, and so she tends to yell the word any time she’s in the mood to play, which is quite often.  It makes me giggle that her pronunciation of the word is “Shart.”  Yep.  Full volume.  All the time.  It cracks me up.

I also love listening to my girls talk to each other.  They have real conversations now.  Miss understands Lass nearly as well as I do, so they talk about all sorts of stuff.  I love that Miss calls her “Honey” a lot and likes to try to teach her new things and tell her what to do.  She’s trying to help her learn ABCs and counting.  It’s adorable to watch and listen to them.

Life is so good.

Reload

Posted on by Amy

As I’m adjusting to life as a mommy of three, I am finding I have not been blogging as much as I’d like. I intend to get better about this.  But in the meantime, I might “reload” a old favorite post here and there just to keep from going too long without posting.  Here’s an oldie but a goodie from the first days of Miss’s potty training.  I still cringe a bit when I read this one…
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When I started as a prison psychologist, I had to go to the same two-week training that the federal government makes all correctional workers go through. Among other things, I learned self defense, spent a lot of time on the firing range, had physical fitness tests, and learned lots about how to prevent and handle a “major disturbance,” which is prison staff lingo for a riot. I remember one instructor saying something like, “We have the control in our institutions because the inmates let us have control. There are way more of them than us, and they could take control at any time. We will always get it back, but don’t forget that they could take it.” I heard this idea several times in various trainings I went to over the years. I think the purpose of saying this was to stress to us that our control was fragile and we needed to exert it with respect, lest our residents decide they weren’t gonna take it anymore.
Fast forward seven-ish years to a day in the life of me, The Mom, the one with the “control,” and Miss, The Toddler, the one who generally goes along and lets me have control because life flows better that way. The one who decided yesterday that she wasn’t gonna take it anymore and went into all out riot mode. Yes folks. My 2’7″, 26-pound 2 year old brought me to my knees yesterday.
Remember my post from the other day when I said potty training was going so well? Remember how I said I firmly believe you can’t force a child to go to the bathroom? Well. My daughter firmly proved me right yesterday. And I never even tried to force her to go to the bathroom. I just tried to get her to not go on the floor. Or on her little chair in her room. Or on the couch. Yesterday was not my best day as Mommy, and Miss decided to seize control of things by controlling what she could – her bladder. Yes, potty training worked very well. Miss does know when she has to go and she is able to tell me. She had been doing this very well all week. One thing she had not been doing at all was napping. So after five days without a nap, we were both tired and a bit frayed. She had an accident yesterday because she did not tell me she had to go. Throughout the entire training process up to that point I had been super positive and upbeat, even with accidents. “Next time just make sure you tell Mommy when you have to go so we can keep those underwear dry, okay?” Well, yesterday I had a not-so-wonderful Mommy Moment and I scolded her for her accident. Nothing too awful, but I definitely used a stern voice and told her that she was supposed to tell me when she had to go and not pee-pee on the floor. I think I gave an exasperated sigh or two. I did manage to regroup fairly quickly and then in my more upbeat voice repeat the usual reminder to tell me when she has to go the next time. But apparently she was not all that forgiving of my moment of testiness. From that point forward, she was in control and letting me know it. She refused to go to the bathroom when I took her in to let her try. I never pushed the issue, but did try to get her to go a few times in an attempt to stop the madness that had begun. She wouldn’t even sit when I’d take her into the bathroom, but then would go moments later in a less favorable spot. She wasn’t giving an inch. Suffice it to say, she had many accidents throughout the afternoon. I was trying so hard not to get into a power struggle with her, which was ironic, given that I had absolutely no power with this issue at all.



Things did improve somewhat right before bed, but by that time I was a wreck. I was berating myself for being the most horrible mother ever, and thinking I had ruined all the hard work we had done on the potty training by scolding her and that I had perhaps scarred her for life as all sorts of Freudian theories came to mind. And yes, this is a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Just ask my mom, who I called near tears while chugging a glass of wine within minutes of putting Miss to bed. Or my husband who wasn’t able to get home until late last night and came in to find me grumpy and tearful and asking him to go get me ice cream (he did).
Of course, at the end of the day, when your toddler takes you down, you just have to get back up. By the time I went to bed, with the help of my husband, my mom, some wine, and some ice cream, I was feeling much better. I went to bed hopeful that yesterday would just be a bump in the road and that today would be a huge improvement. And of course it was. Miss had only one accident. She was happy to go on her potty and glowed at the praise she received. I was going to leave her with our babysitter so I could go grocery shopping this afternoon. I desperately needed to get some groceries and had wanted to go yesterday after her non-nap, but she refused to go to the bathroom, and I wasn’t willing to take her out in public with a full bladder with the way things were going yesterday. So today I thought I’d just avoid any problems and let her stay with our babysitter, whom she loves. But as I was getting ready to go she said, “I want to go store too. Pwease Mommy. I not get my pants all wet.” Well, that just melted my heart and so of course I let her come along. We had a great time. And when we got back, wonder of wonders, Miss finally took a nap! Oh halle-freaking-lujiah!!! All the world looks so much brighter on this side of a nap.



There are days when being a Mom just kicks the crap out of you. I really believe that there isn’t any more important job. Therefore, when things don’t go right, when I screw up, my feelings of inadequacy and guilt are greatly magnified. I question myself and feel like a failure. No one can make a mother of a two-year-old feel more impotent than that two-year-old. But amazingly, even when she is being a stinker and I’m at the end of my rope, the girl is sweet and loving and brightens my world. Just when I feel like I want to go crawl under my covers and stay there, she will say something like this comment from yesterday, “Lass so sweet, Lass so cute,” and then when I ask her if she’s cute say, “No, I not cute. I pwetty.” My girls make me laugh. They make me smile. They make my heart swell until it feels like it’s going to burst. Sometimes they make me want to pull my hair out. Always they make me want to be a better Mom. Even yesterday. Hell, especially yesterday! I’m not perfect, and sometimes I totally suck at this Mom thing, but in the words of that instructor, I “always get it back.” I guess that’s just what moms do. We do our best for our kids and sometimes we totally lose it. But we always get it back. 
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I hope to be back soon with a fresh post and some new photos!

A Little Daddy Time

Posted on by Amy
I have written many times about how much my older girls love their time with their Daddy.  When he comes home from work, they shriek and run to him.  As soon as dinner is over they’re begging him to play “monster” with them or read to them or dance with them.  They are definitely Daddy’s girls.  
Baby Sis is following right in their footsteps.

Every night she has a little special time with her Daddy and seems to enjoy it thoroughly.

Daddy’s Girl.

What Do I Do All Day Anyway?

Posted on by Amy
If you aren’t or have never been a stay-at-home mom (or dad), you might wonder what someone does who stays home with her kids all day.  I know I did before becoming a full-time mom myself.  I didn’t wonder about this in a malicious way, in a “what the H-E-double-hockey-stick-does-she-do-all-day?” kind of way.  I just wondered.
Well.  Now I know.  So, what do I do all day?  Here’s an idea:
I create mountains with couch cushions.  I encourage.  I insist “you can do it.”  I cheer for accomplishments.  I help when necessary.
I do laundry.
 
 

I have tea parties.  I color.  I read aloud.

I ask, “What color is this?”  “What does (fill in this blank with some animal) say?” “What sound does (fill in this blank with some letter) make?” “What do you think about that?”  All. day. long.

I sing songs.  I sound out words.  I count everything out loud.

I answer “Why?”  and “Why?” and “Why?”

I watch.  I praise.  I watch again.  And again.  And again.  I teach.  I spot.

I kiss boo boos.  I teach manners.  And responsibility.  And problem solving.  And everything.

I discourage whining.  I try to reinforce more effective ways of communicating.  I try to teach my girls to be strong and direct.

I do laundry.

I referee fights over who gets to wear which headband.  Over who gets the little Cinderella doll (or “Wedda” as Lass calls her).  Over who gets to hold Baby Sis first.

I change diapers.  I wash diapers.  I fold diapers.

I nurse a newborn. I take forever to get out of the house.

I cook.  I clean up.  I cook.  I clean up.

I wipe mouths and noses and counters and hands and tables and rear ends.

I give baths.  I comb hair that is like silk.  I fix pony tails.  I say “You’re beautiful.”  “You’re smart.” “You’re strong.”  “You’re funny.”

I do laundry.

I help to outfit Super Heros.

Daddy helps them to fly.

 

I do more laundry.

I give lots of hugs.  And kisses.  I snuggle.  I tickle.

Sometimes I just sit.  And watch.  And I’m thankful that I am fortunate enough to be able to do all of these things and so much more.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.